Vaporize and kill are, in my opinion, the same thing. Yes, Sovek is emotionally compromised.
Star Trek: USS Samaritan
- Thread starter admiralelm11
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Chapter Six: Tales of Glory and Honor
“Something has to be done about him, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei said, sitting across the desk from Kingsley in the CO’s quarters.
“He could have just been just trying to protect us,” Kingsley said. “The Jem’Hadar was holding Ensign Parker by the neck.”
“Ensign Bulloch swears that his phaser wasn’t set to full power. That means that Doctor Sovek set the weapon to vaporize before firing. He did so in violation of your orders to keep the Jem’Hadar alive.”
“I thought you disagreed with that order.”
“I did, but you have made your decision. It wasn’t my position to countermand your order, and it certainly wasn’t Sovek’s.”
“What would you have me do? We don’t have a Brig. He’s a civilian, and I can’t reduce him in rank. Should we hold a tribunal and bring the most skilled surgeon aboard this ship up on charges of murder?”
“Insubordination may be a more appropriate charge, but I don’t think a tribunal is the answer.” Ra-Gorvalei sighed. “This isn’t an isolated incident. I heard that he slapped a patient. The other day, he was sitting in this room, advising us to surrender. I’ve known other Vulcans and there’s something wrong with Sovek. I don’t know what it is, but something is seriously impairing his judgment.”
Suddenly the ship rocked violently.
“What was that?,” Kingsley asked him, gripping his desk to steady himself.
“Ra-Gorvalei to the Bridge. Report.”
* * * *
“Burns here, sir. We’re under attack,” the JG answered from the command chair. “Warp power is offline.”
“Taking evasive maneuvers,” Jared Parker called out from the helm.
The doors to the aft section of the command space swooshed open and Chief Shaw, a little winded from running to the Bridge, entered. “Who the hell is shooting at us?”
“A Dominion battleship,” Burns explained. “It came out of nowhere.”
Sitting down at the starboard station, Shaw powered up the phasers. “I’ll bet it’s the same one that chased us into the Badlands.”
“Return fire, Chief,” commanded Burns.
“No effect,” reported the Chief. “Their shields are too strong for our peashooters.”
The Bridge doors opened again with Kingsley and Ra-Gorvalei entering. Burns gave up the command chair and assumed a place at the port station. Kingsley looked at the Efrosian who gestured towards the command chair, indicating that the doctor should take the seat. He cautiously took his seat and as the ship shook again, the CO wondered if he shouldn’t have taken Ra-Gorvalei up on his offer at Haven Station.
Maybe he should be in command.
“Our phasers are useless against the battleship,” Ra-Gorvalei said, looking over Burns’ shoulder. “I suggest we divert phaser power to the shields.”
“Yes,” Kingsley ordered. “Divert power to the shields.”
“Shields are holding at sixty-four percent,” Burns reported once he had transferred the power from the phasers to the shields.
Kingsley gripped the armrests of his chair as the ship rocked again violently. “Maybe… maybe if we put some distance between us and the battleship. Their weapons wouldn’t be able to target us as accurately.”
“Attempting to open up some distance, sir,” Jared reported.
Ra-Gorvalei reached over Burns’ shoulder and called up a tactical analysis of the Dominion battleship on the port console. “Sir, there are gaps in the battleship’s firing patterns just off of its warp nacelles, but we have to get in close to utilize them.”
The ship rocked again as another volley of disruptor fire struck it. “Shields are now at forty-nine percent,” Burns reported.
“Ensign Parker, position us off of one of the battleship’s warp nacelles,” Kingsley ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Jared replied, bringing the Samaritan about.
“We need warp power,” Ra-Gorvalei said in frustration.
“We’re not likely to get it back as long as they’re shooting at us,” Shaw said. “We’ve got power fluctuations all over the board. A few more hits and we’re going to start losing more systems than warp drive.”
Jared was able to slide the Samaritan into position off of the battleship’s starboard nacelle, but not before incurring several more strikes from disruptor fire.
Looking at his console, Burns saw power beginning to fluctuate all over the ship. “Shields,” he reported,” are down to twenty-nine percent.”
Across the Bridge, the increasing power fluctuations ruptured an EPS conduit behind the starboard station. Sparks erupted out of the console and Chief Shaw was flung backwards in his chair as he grabbed at his face in pain.
Kingsley wasn’t sure what to do when the shields were at twenty-nine percent, but he did know that the Chief needed medical attention. He leapt out of his chair to help him.
“He needs surgery. Mister Ra-Gorvalei, take the conn.” Shaw was burned and bloodied, shards of the console were embedded in his face. The CO tapped his combadge. “Kingsley to Sickbay, two for emergency transport.”
Ra-Gorvalei took over the command chair as Kingsley and the Chief disappeared in the shimmering light of the transporter effect. He weighed his options or the lack of them. The ship rocked again as it drifted back into the battleship’s firing arc.
“Shields are at twenty-two percent!,” Burns cried out.
“Keep us out of their firing arc!,” Ra-Gorvalei commanded.
“I’m trying, sir,” Jared reported, frantically making minor adjustments to the Samaritan’s course. He tried to anticipate the maneuvers of the battleship before they made them. The blind spot of the massive warship’s firing arc was only slightly larger than the Samaritan herself, keeping the hospital ship inside that area was near impossible.
The Bridge shuddered as another shot grazed the Samaritan’s hull. “Shields are at fourteen percent!,” Burns reported.
“Thrusters are failing,” Parker reported. The ship was becoming sluggish and fighting against his commands.
“Ra-Gorvalei to Engineering. Transfer emergency power to the shields,” the XO commanded. “Take it from life-support if you have to.”
“I’ll give you all that we’ve got, sir, but it’s not much,” Ensign Bulloch replied over the intercom.
“Lieutenant, three ships are decloaking off of the battleship’s bow,” Burns said. Looking at the sensor readout, he felt a wave of hope wash over him. “They’re Klingon!”
“Hail them,” Ra-Gorvalei ordered.
The image of the Dominion ship on the main viewscreen was replaced with a Klingon face. “Federation starship, I am Bregath. Drop your shields on my command.” The viewscreen returned to the image of the battleship, but now three Klingon Birds of Prey could be seen heading directly towards the Dominion ship with their weapons blazing.
“If we drop our shields, we’ll be defenseless. What do we do, sir?,” Burns asked, all of his hope leaving him.
“We do exactly as he says,” Ra-Gorvalei instructed him. He wasn’t sure what the Klingons had in mind, but they were the Federation’s chief ally against the Dominion and unlike him, they had a plan.
The Birds of Prey were almost on top of the battleship now. Two of them suddenly cut towards the Samaritan.
“Lower your shields!,” Bregath’s voice boomed over the intercom.
Burns complied immediately, afraid to cross the intimidating voice.
Passing over the Samaritan, the two Birds of Prey locked tractor beams onto the hospital ship and jumped to high warp. After firing several more photon torpedoes at the battleship, the third Bird of Prey followed them.
* * * *
Kingsley was scrubbed up and ready to operate. He already had Nurse Haas administer a pain reliever. Chief Shaw was unconscious now. With all of the technology in the Samaritan’s incredible Sickbay, he began his work with a simple set of tweezers, carefully picking away the shards of the exploded console that had been embedded in Shaw’s skin. The Chief had no warning of the blast, he could tell. The natural Human reaction to an impending explosion would be to turn away and cover one’s eyes, but the shards of console hit the front of Shaw’s face and the only thing that covered his eyes were his eyelids.
That could be serious, Kingsley thought.
“Nurse Haas,” the doctor said without looking up from his work,” locate Doctor Flores. I may need her expertise.”
* * * *
“Federation starship, worry not about the Dominion battleship. It will take them a day of repairs before they have the speed to pursue us,” Bregath said from the trailing Bird of Prey.
“I am Ra-Gorvalei, Executive Officer of the USS Samaritan,” the lieutenant said from the command chair. “We’re in your debt, Captain Bregath.”
“Your ship took quite a beating. We’re taking you to a nearby area of space where you can make repairs. We will be masked from the Dominion’s long-range sensors there.”
“You’re not talking about the Badlands, are you?,” Burns asked from his station.
Bregath laughed out loud. “Only a fool would take a sloth of a ship like yours into the Badlands. Don’t worry, Human. There is a pulsar near here. It’s quite safe.”
Jared managed to remain silent, but he couldn’t resist cracking a smile.
* * * *
“What do you think?,” Kingsley asked as he methodically healed Shaw’s burns with a dermal regenerator.
Doctor Flores was at the wall display, studying the Chief’s ocular scans. “We can repair the corneal abrasions fairly easily. We only need to modify a dermal regenerator.” She sighed. “His retinas don’t look good.”
“What do you mean?,” Kingsley asked, finishing his work and approaching the display to better see what Flores was talking about.
“Chief Shaw’s retinas have been burned. I saw a lot of this on Amanecer, my home. Our sun is closer to our planet than most, and,” Flores said,” retinal burning is the most common cause of blindness.”
“Blindness,” Kingsley gasped. “Are you sure?”
“At best, Mister Shaw has lost all of his peripheral vision but he retains the ability to make out colors and blurs of people,” Krissy explained.
“Blurs of people?”
“These are very severe burns,” Krissy replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it was total blindness, but there is only one person that can tell us if that’s the case.”
Kingsley turned back to the sleeping Chief. “Very well,” he said. He turned towards Nurse Haas. “Wake him.”
* * * *
“Come,” Ra-Gorvalei responded to the sound of the door chimes to his quarters ringing. The doors swooshed open and Ensign Shane Bulloch stepped into the room.
“You wanted to see me, sir?,” asked the ensign.
“How are the repairs coming?”
“We’ve restored warp power and we’re in as good of a shape as it was when we left the Badlands. We’re still letting the Klingons’ tractor beams carry us along. We’re travelling at Warp Six which is faster than we could go on our own. I’ve diverted some extra power to the structural integrity field to offset the effects of tractor shearing.”
“Good.”
“If that’s all, sir, I’ll return to my duties. We should be arriving at the pulsar shortly.” The Chief Engineer turned to leave.
“One moment, Mister Bulloch,” Ra-Gorvalei said, bringing Bulloch to a halt. “Yesterday, in Sickbay, you hesitated when it was time to depressurize the bay and rid the ship of the Jem’Hadar soldiers. You endangered the ship.”
Confronted with his own failure, Bulloch stood frozen in the Efrosian’s gaze.
Ra-Gorvalei sighed, allowing a rare display of frustration to a junior officer. “What am I supposed to do with you? I can’t demote you. You’re an ensign. I can’t relieve you of your duties. You’re the only engineer that I have, but I also can’t trust you in holding the safety of the ship above the safety of a person.”
“Sir, I’ve known Jared, uh, Ensign Parker for years. I was afraid of what pressing that button might have done to him,” Bulloch stammered in response.
“Mister Parker knew the risks. He volunteered for his part in the plan. Is this really about not wanting to lose your friend, or is this about someone dying by your order?”
“Sir, do you mean the one on the other side of the hatch?,” Anderson’s voice came through with an obviously confused tone. “Wouldn’t that close me in?”
“Mister Bulloch?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked. “Are you listening to me?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Yes, sir. I’m listening.” Bulloch felt like a first-year cadet again.
Ra-Gorvalei could see that his point had been made. “Chief Shaw told me that you were experiencing some guilt over the death of Crewman Anderson. I sympathize with what you’re going through. It is a hard decision, choosing between the ship and a person. But you must make sure that the safety of this ship and its crew are always paramount. Personal feelings of guilt are a small price to pay for doing the right thing.”
Bulloch looked at the floor, not waiting to meet Ra-Gorvalei’s gaze. “I understand, sir.”
“I hope so,” he replied before standing up. “Now, let’s go meet some Klingons.”
* * * *
“Where am I?,” Chief Shaw demanded.
“You’re in Sickbay,” Flores calmly answered him.
“Who are you? What happened to the battleship? Is Samaritan okay? Why is it so dark in here?,” the Chief asked, rattling off questions.
“I’m Doctor Flores. The Samaritan is safe. We escaped the battleship, but you were injured during the attack.” Krissy kept her voice as peaceful as possible. She knew that the only connection that the Chief had now was with his environment.
“Power must be offline. Don't worry your pretty little head. Ensign Bulloch is a good engineer. He’ll have the lights back on in no time,” Shaw spoke quickly and nervously.
“The lights are on, Chief. During the attack, an EPS conduit ruptured behind the console that you were operating. The flash of light was so intense that it severely burned your retinas. Do you understand what I’m saying?,” Flores asked him.
“What the hell are you talking about? It’s darker than night in here! I feel fine. Give me a flashlight. Bulloch probably needs some help.” The Chief tried to sit up but he felt a firm hand push him back down.
“Chief, this is Lieutenant Commander Kingsley. I know that this is hard to accept, but you’re blind. Doctor Flores has more experience with cases like yours than anyone on the ship. There is no way that I know of to heal your eyes. They can be eventually replaced by prosthetic VISOR implants, but Samaritan isn’t equipped for such specialized treatment.”
Shaw lay back down. “There has to be something that you can do. You’re doctors, aren’t you?”
“Doctor Flores can explain your options to you but understand that there is no medical procedure that I know of that will restore your natural sight.” Kingsley patted Shaw on the shoulder, not knowing what else to do. He left, pulling the curtain shut around the medical alcove as he did.
* * * *
“Captain Bregath signals that he is ready for transport,” Bulloch reported from the transporter console at the forward end of Sickbay.
Ra-Gorvalei nodded. “Let’s not keep the captain waiting. Begin –”
“Am I late?,” Kingsley asked, quickly approaching the transporter panel.
“No, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei replied. “We were just initializing transport now. Ensign Bulloch, begin transport.”
Moments after the engineer tapped at the console, a blue shimmering light coalesced in front of the three Starfleet officers. When it finally dimmed, the massive frame of Captain Bregath was left in its place. If there were any naturally occurring species that were as intimidating in appearance as the genetically-engineered Jem’Hadar soldiers, it was the Klingons. Bregath was well over six feet tall. He wore the traditional uniform of a Klingon warrior but his family sash, worn over his shoulder like a bandoleer, was adorned with many more medals than the average warrior.
“I am as healthy as a wild targ,” he announced.
“That’s, um, good to hear,” Kingsley said, not sure if Bregath was using some Klingon idiom that he wasn’t familiar with.
“Then why have you transported me to your Sickbay?,” the Klingon captain asked, taking in his surroundings.
“The Samaritan is a hospital ship. Our transporter is integrated into the deck and overhead, making it easier to beam the sick and injured directly to this Sickbay,” Bulloch explained.
Bregath nodded. “A hospital ship? I have many wounded warriors. Will you treat them?”
“Of course,” Kingsley replied, extending his hand. “By the way, I’m Lieutenant Commander Dominic Kingsley, Commanding Officer and Chief Medical Officer of the Samaritan.”
“Captain Bregath, IKS Lor’Cha,” the Klingon said, shaking Kingsley’s hand more forcefully than the doctor was expecting. “Your ship took quite a beating from that battleship. It was fortunate that my squadron was passing through the sector.”
“Actually, the damage was fairly moderate,” Bulloch said.
Ra-Gorvalei shot a glance at the ensign, making the engineer realize that he had diminished the Klingon’s valiant rescue. He turned back to Bregath. “The majority of our damage occurred in an earlier engagement when we were trying to elude the very battleship that you rescued us from. We are in your debt.”
“I will consider it paid in full once you treat my warriors. And if you could provide us with medical supplies before we leave, I will be in your debt. I fear we won’t be able to refill our stores for some time, not on this side of the line.”
“You will have all that your cargo bays can hold,” Kingsley said, glad that he could be of service to a Klingon. He saw Nurse Haas walking past them and waved her over. “Nurse, we’ll be treating some Klingons. Please make room for additional patients and prepare to transport all of the medical supplies that they require to their ships.”
The nurse nodded and left to carry out her orders.
“What do you mean, ‘on this side of the line’?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
Bregath was surprised at the question. “On the Dominion side of the line. Are your navigational systems damaged as well?”
“We entered and exited the Badlands on the Federation side of the line,” Ra-Gorvalei answered.
“You took this ship into the Badlands?,” Bregath exclaimed in disbelief. “Several days ago, the area that you refer to may have been Federation space, but it is no longer. As of now, all Alliance forces are in retreat. There was a massive engagement in Sector 4452. We were there and songs will be sung about that battle. Unfortunately, they will be sad songs,” Bregath spoke in a low respectful tone. “We intercepted a Federation transmission, two days ago. It contains a list of ships that were lost.”
“Oh, my,” was all that Kingsley could manage to say.
After a moment of stunned silence as Bregath’s words set in, Ra-Gorvalei finally broke the silence. “We would appreciate a copy of that transmission, Captain. Is there anything else that we could do for you?”
Bregath thought for a second before smiling. “I have heard of a Human drink known as prune juice. It is said to be worthy of a warrior.”
Ra-Gorvalei thought of the perfect disciplinary action for Bulloch. “Ensign Bulloch, please escort our guest to the galley and get him a tall glass of prune juice.”
Bulloch thought about the Efrosian’s dressing down. It had left him in low spirits, but diplomatic duty with a Klingon sent them spiraling even lower. However, he felt that he deserved it so he mustered a smile and said,” This way, Captain.”
* * * *
Kingsley walked down the corridor that housed the medical staff’s quarters. He still had to talk to Sovek. Disciplining a doctor under his authority was nothing new to him but the particular circumstances that he was faced with changed everything now. He never had to deal with a doctor on his staff who vaporized someone.
“Doctor Kingsley, could I speak with you for a moment?,” Eskol said, quietly from behind the CO.
Kingsley jumped when he heard his voice. “Mister Eskol, where did you come from?” Looking at the Nelvian, he thought that the lights had just gone out. He realized that Eskol’s skin was the same shade of gray as the walls of the corridor. Shadows even seemed to fall across his face at the same places as they did on the bulkheads. It all gave the illusion that he was standing in a dark passageway, even though the lights were at their normal intensity.
“I was on my way to Doctor Sovek’s quarters, but I have a moment if this won’t take long,” Kingsley said, catching his breath.
“I apologize for startling you,” Eskol said as his pigment changed to match Kingsley’s. “The Vulcan is actually pertinent to what I wanted to discuss, sir. There is a gathering threat on this ship that must be dealt with.”
“I’m aware of the complaints against Doctor Sovek, and I assure you that I will personally deal with the situation,” Kingsley assured the Nelvian.
“The threat that I speak of isn’t isolated to the Vulcan. I am referring to the ship’s morale. The Vulcan is an extreme example of how the pressures of this war are wearing on the crew and on the patients. Feelings of hopelessness have a way of spreading like a cancer. This ship must believe that it will survive if it has any hope of getting home. Something must be done now, especially since the crew will soon be aware of the Federation retreat.”
“How did you know about the retreat,” Kingsley asked. “I only just found out myself.
“I find myself reminding many people on this ship that I am an intelligence officer. It’s my job to know things.”
“What would you have me do, Mister Eskol? I can’t change the tide of the war.”
“People crave leadership in times of trial. Give it to them and our chances for survival will improve dramatically.” Eskol stared at him, silently demanding a response.
“I’ll try,” Kingsley said before resuming his walk towards Sovek’s quarters. He couldn’t help but slouch ever so slightly under the burden of command.
“Something has to be done about him, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei said, sitting across the desk from Kingsley in the CO’s quarters.
“He could have just been just trying to protect us,” Kingsley said. “The Jem’Hadar was holding Ensign Parker by the neck.”
“Ensign Bulloch swears that his phaser wasn’t set to full power. That means that Doctor Sovek set the weapon to vaporize before firing. He did so in violation of your orders to keep the Jem’Hadar alive.”
“I thought you disagreed with that order.”
“I did, but you have made your decision. It wasn’t my position to countermand your order, and it certainly wasn’t Sovek’s.”
“What would you have me do? We don’t have a Brig. He’s a civilian, and I can’t reduce him in rank. Should we hold a tribunal and bring the most skilled surgeon aboard this ship up on charges of murder?”
“Insubordination may be a more appropriate charge, but I don’t think a tribunal is the answer.” Ra-Gorvalei sighed. “This isn’t an isolated incident. I heard that he slapped a patient. The other day, he was sitting in this room, advising us to surrender. I’ve known other Vulcans and there’s something wrong with Sovek. I don’t know what it is, but something is seriously impairing his judgment.”
Suddenly the ship rocked violently.
“What was that?,” Kingsley asked him, gripping his desk to steady himself.
“Ra-Gorvalei to the Bridge. Report.”
* * * *
“Burns here, sir. We’re under attack,” the JG answered from the command chair. “Warp power is offline.”
“Taking evasive maneuvers,” Jared Parker called out from the helm.
The doors to the aft section of the command space swooshed open and Chief Shaw, a little winded from running to the Bridge, entered. “Who the hell is shooting at us?”
“A Dominion battleship,” Burns explained. “It came out of nowhere.”
Sitting down at the starboard station, Shaw powered up the phasers. “I’ll bet it’s the same one that chased us into the Badlands.”
“Return fire, Chief,” commanded Burns.
“No effect,” reported the Chief. “Their shields are too strong for our peashooters.”
The Bridge doors opened again with Kingsley and Ra-Gorvalei entering. Burns gave up the command chair and assumed a place at the port station. Kingsley looked at the Efrosian who gestured towards the command chair, indicating that the doctor should take the seat. He cautiously took his seat and as the ship shook again, the CO wondered if he shouldn’t have taken Ra-Gorvalei up on his offer at Haven Station.
Maybe he should be in command.
“Our phasers are useless against the battleship,” Ra-Gorvalei said, looking over Burns’ shoulder. “I suggest we divert phaser power to the shields.”
“Yes,” Kingsley ordered. “Divert power to the shields.”
“Shields are holding at sixty-four percent,” Burns reported once he had transferred the power from the phasers to the shields.
Kingsley gripped the armrests of his chair as the ship rocked again violently. “Maybe… maybe if we put some distance between us and the battleship. Their weapons wouldn’t be able to target us as accurately.”
“Attempting to open up some distance, sir,” Jared reported.
Ra-Gorvalei reached over Burns’ shoulder and called up a tactical analysis of the Dominion battleship on the port console. “Sir, there are gaps in the battleship’s firing patterns just off of its warp nacelles, but we have to get in close to utilize them.”
The ship rocked again as another volley of disruptor fire struck it. “Shields are now at forty-nine percent,” Burns reported.
“Ensign Parker, position us off of one of the battleship’s warp nacelles,” Kingsley ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Jared replied, bringing the Samaritan about.
“We need warp power,” Ra-Gorvalei said in frustration.
“We’re not likely to get it back as long as they’re shooting at us,” Shaw said. “We’ve got power fluctuations all over the board. A few more hits and we’re going to start losing more systems than warp drive.”
Jared was able to slide the Samaritan into position off of the battleship’s starboard nacelle, but not before incurring several more strikes from disruptor fire.
Looking at his console, Burns saw power beginning to fluctuate all over the ship. “Shields,” he reported,” are down to twenty-nine percent.”
Across the Bridge, the increasing power fluctuations ruptured an EPS conduit behind the starboard station. Sparks erupted out of the console and Chief Shaw was flung backwards in his chair as he grabbed at his face in pain.
Kingsley wasn’t sure what to do when the shields were at twenty-nine percent, but he did know that the Chief needed medical attention. He leapt out of his chair to help him.
“He needs surgery. Mister Ra-Gorvalei, take the conn.” Shaw was burned and bloodied, shards of the console were embedded in his face. The CO tapped his combadge. “Kingsley to Sickbay, two for emergency transport.”
Ra-Gorvalei took over the command chair as Kingsley and the Chief disappeared in the shimmering light of the transporter effect. He weighed his options or the lack of them. The ship rocked again as it drifted back into the battleship’s firing arc.
“Shields are at twenty-two percent!,” Burns cried out.
“Keep us out of their firing arc!,” Ra-Gorvalei commanded.
“I’m trying, sir,” Jared reported, frantically making minor adjustments to the Samaritan’s course. He tried to anticipate the maneuvers of the battleship before they made them. The blind spot of the massive warship’s firing arc was only slightly larger than the Samaritan herself, keeping the hospital ship inside that area was near impossible.
The Bridge shuddered as another shot grazed the Samaritan’s hull. “Shields are at fourteen percent!,” Burns reported.
“Thrusters are failing,” Parker reported. The ship was becoming sluggish and fighting against his commands.
“Ra-Gorvalei to Engineering. Transfer emergency power to the shields,” the XO commanded. “Take it from life-support if you have to.”
“I’ll give you all that we’ve got, sir, but it’s not much,” Ensign Bulloch replied over the intercom.
“Lieutenant, three ships are decloaking off of the battleship’s bow,” Burns said. Looking at the sensor readout, he felt a wave of hope wash over him. “They’re Klingon!”
“Hail them,” Ra-Gorvalei ordered.
The image of the Dominion ship on the main viewscreen was replaced with a Klingon face. “Federation starship, I am Bregath. Drop your shields on my command.” The viewscreen returned to the image of the battleship, but now three Klingon Birds of Prey could be seen heading directly towards the Dominion ship with their weapons blazing.
“If we drop our shields, we’ll be defenseless. What do we do, sir?,” Burns asked, all of his hope leaving him.
“We do exactly as he says,” Ra-Gorvalei instructed him. He wasn’t sure what the Klingons had in mind, but they were the Federation’s chief ally against the Dominion and unlike him, they had a plan.
The Birds of Prey were almost on top of the battleship now. Two of them suddenly cut towards the Samaritan.
“Lower your shields!,” Bregath’s voice boomed over the intercom.
Burns complied immediately, afraid to cross the intimidating voice.
Passing over the Samaritan, the two Birds of Prey locked tractor beams onto the hospital ship and jumped to high warp. After firing several more photon torpedoes at the battleship, the third Bird of Prey followed them.
* * * *
Kingsley was scrubbed up and ready to operate. He already had Nurse Haas administer a pain reliever. Chief Shaw was unconscious now. With all of the technology in the Samaritan’s incredible Sickbay, he began his work with a simple set of tweezers, carefully picking away the shards of the exploded console that had been embedded in Shaw’s skin. The Chief had no warning of the blast, he could tell. The natural Human reaction to an impending explosion would be to turn away and cover one’s eyes, but the shards of console hit the front of Shaw’s face and the only thing that covered his eyes were his eyelids.
That could be serious, Kingsley thought.
“Nurse Haas,” the doctor said without looking up from his work,” locate Doctor Flores. I may need her expertise.”
* * * *
“Federation starship, worry not about the Dominion battleship. It will take them a day of repairs before they have the speed to pursue us,” Bregath said from the trailing Bird of Prey.
“I am Ra-Gorvalei, Executive Officer of the USS Samaritan,” the lieutenant said from the command chair. “We’re in your debt, Captain Bregath.”
“Your ship took quite a beating. We’re taking you to a nearby area of space where you can make repairs. We will be masked from the Dominion’s long-range sensors there.”
“You’re not talking about the Badlands, are you?,” Burns asked from his station.
Bregath laughed out loud. “Only a fool would take a sloth of a ship like yours into the Badlands. Don’t worry, Human. There is a pulsar near here. It’s quite safe.”
Jared managed to remain silent, but he couldn’t resist cracking a smile.
* * * *
“What do you think?,” Kingsley asked as he methodically healed Shaw’s burns with a dermal regenerator.
Doctor Flores was at the wall display, studying the Chief’s ocular scans. “We can repair the corneal abrasions fairly easily. We only need to modify a dermal regenerator.” She sighed. “His retinas don’t look good.”
“What do you mean?,” Kingsley asked, finishing his work and approaching the display to better see what Flores was talking about.
“Chief Shaw’s retinas have been burned. I saw a lot of this on Amanecer, my home. Our sun is closer to our planet than most, and,” Flores said,” retinal burning is the most common cause of blindness.”
“Blindness,” Kingsley gasped. “Are you sure?”
“At best, Mister Shaw has lost all of his peripheral vision but he retains the ability to make out colors and blurs of people,” Krissy explained.
“Blurs of people?”
“These are very severe burns,” Krissy replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all if it was total blindness, but there is only one person that can tell us if that’s the case.”
Kingsley turned back to the sleeping Chief. “Very well,” he said. He turned towards Nurse Haas. “Wake him.”
* * * *
“Come,” Ra-Gorvalei responded to the sound of the door chimes to his quarters ringing. The doors swooshed open and Ensign Shane Bulloch stepped into the room.
“You wanted to see me, sir?,” asked the ensign.
“How are the repairs coming?”
“We’ve restored warp power and we’re in as good of a shape as it was when we left the Badlands. We’re still letting the Klingons’ tractor beams carry us along. We’re travelling at Warp Six which is faster than we could go on our own. I’ve diverted some extra power to the structural integrity field to offset the effects of tractor shearing.”
“Good.”
“If that’s all, sir, I’ll return to my duties. We should be arriving at the pulsar shortly.” The Chief Engineer turned to leave.
“One moment, Mister Bulloch,” Ra-Gorvalei said, bringing Bulloch to a halt. “Yesterday, in Sickbay, you hesitated when it was time to depressurize the bay and rid the ship of the Jem’Hadar soldiers. You endangered the ship.”
Confronted with his own failure, Bulloch stood frozen in the Efrosian’s gaze.
Ra-Gorvalei sighed, allowing a rare display of frustration to a junior officer. “What am I supposed to do with you? I can’t demote you. You’re an ensign. I can’t relieve you of your duties. You’re the only engineer that I have, but I also can’t trust you in holding the safety of the ship above the safety of a person.”
“Sir, I’ve known Jared, uh, Ensign Parker for years. I was afraid of what pressing that button might have done to him,” Bulloch stammered in response.
“Mister Parker knew the risks. He volunteered for his part in the plan. Is this really about not wanting to lose your friend, or is this about someone dying by your order?”
“Sir, do you mean the one on the other side of the hatch?,” Anderson’s voice came through with an obviously confused tone. “Wouldn’t that close me in?”
“Mister Bulloch?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked. “Are you listening to me?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Yes, sir. I’m listening.” Bulloch felt like a first-year cadet again.
Ra-Gorvalei could see that his point had been made. “Chief Shaw told me that you were experiencing some guilt over the death of Crewman Anderson. I sympathize with what you’re going through. It is a hard decision, choosing between the ship and a person. But you must make sure that the safety of this ship and its crew are always paramount. Personal feelings of guilt are a small price to pay for doing the right thing.”
Bulloch looked at the floor, not waiting to meet Ra-Gorvalei’s gaze. “I understand, sir.”
“I hope so,” he replied before standing up. “Now, let’s go meet some Klingons.”
* * * *
“Where am I?,” Chief Shaw demanded.
“You’re in Sickbay,” Flores calmly answered him.
“Who are you? What happened to the battleship? Is Samaritan okay? Why is it so dark in here?,” the Chief asked, rattling off questions.
“I’m Doctor Flores. The Samaritan is safe. We escaped the battleship, but you were injured during the attack.” Krissy kept her voice as peaceful as possible. She knew that the only connection that the Chief had now was with his environment.
“Power must be offline. Don't worry your pretty little head. Ensign Bulloch is a good engineer. He’ll have the lights back on in no time,” Shaw spoke quickly and nervously.
“The lights are on, Chief. During the attack, an EPS conduit ruptured behind the console that you were operating. The flash of light was so intense that it severely burned your retinas. Do you understand what I’m saying?,” Flores asked him.
“What the hell are you talking about? It’s darker than night in here! I feel fine. Give me a flashlight. Bulloch probably needs some help.” The Chief tried to sit up but he felt a firm hand push him back down.
“Chief, this is Lieutenant Commander Kingsley. I know that this is hard to accept, but you’re blind. Doctor Flores has more experience with cases like yours than anyone on the ship. There is no way that I know of to heal your eyes. They can be eventually replaced by prosthetic VISOR implants, but Samaritan isn’t equipped for such specialized treatment.”
Shaw lay back down. “There has to be something that you can do. You’re doctors, aren’t you?”
“Doctor Flores can explain your options to you but understand that there is no medical procedure that I know of that will restore your natural sight.” Kingsley patted Shaw on the shoulder, not knowing what else to do. He left, pulling the curtain shut around the medical alcove as he did.
* * * *
“Captain Bregath signals that he is ready for transport,” Bulloch reported from the transporter console at the forward end of Sickbay.
Ra-Gorvalei nodded. “Let’s not keep the captain waiting. Begin –”
“Am I late?,” Kingsley asked, quickly approaching the transporter panel.
“No, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei replied. “We were just initializing transport now. Ensign Bulloch, begin transport.”
Moments after the engineer tapped at the console, a blue shimmering light coalesced in front of the three Starfleet officers. When it finally dimmed, the massive frame of Captain Bregath was left in its place. If there were any naturally occurring species that were as intimidating in appearance as the genetically-engineered Jem’Hadar soldiers, it was the Klingons. Bregath was well over six feet tall. He wore the traditional uniform of a Klingon warrior but his family sash, worn over his shoulder like a bandoleer, was adorned with many more medals than the average warrior.
“I am as healthy as a wild targ,” he announced.
“That’s, um, good to hear,” Kingsley said, not sure if Bregath was using some Klingon idiom that he wasn’t familiar with.
“Then why have you transported me to your Sickbay?,” the Klingon captain asked, taking in his surroundings.
“The Samaritan is a hospital ship. Our transporter is integrated into the deck and overhead, making it easier to beam the sick and injured directly to this Sickbay,” Bulloch explained.
Bregath nodded. “A hospital ship? I have many wounded warriors. Will you treat them?”
“Of course,” Kingsley replied, extending his hand. “By the way, I’m Lieutenant Commander Dominic Kingsley, Commanding Officer and Chief Medical Officer of the Samaritan.”
“Captain Bregath, IKS Lor’Cha,” the Klingon said, shaking Kingsley’s hand more forcefully than the doctor was expecting. “Your ship took quite a beating from that battleship. It was fortunate that my squadron was passing through the sector.”
“Actually, the damage was fairly moderate,” Bulloch said.
Ra-Gorvalei shot a glance at the ensign, making the engineer realize that he had diminished the Klingon’s valiant rescue. He turned back to Bregath. “The majority of our damage occurred in an earlier engagement when we were trying to elude the very battleship that you rescued us from. We are in your debt.”
“I will consider it paid in full once you treat my warriors. And if you could provide us with medical supplies before we leave, I will be in your debt. I fear we won’t be able to refill our stores for some time, not on this side of the line.”
“You will have all that your cargo bays can hold,” Kingsley said, glad that he could be of service to a Klingon. He saw Nurse Haas walking past them and waved her over. “Nurse, we’ll be treating some Klingons. Please make room for additional patients and prepare to transport all of the medical supplies that they require to their ships.”
The nurse nodded and left to carry out her orders.
“What do you mean, ‘on this side of the line’?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
Bregath was surprised at the question. “On the Dominion side of the line. Are your navigational systems damaged as well?”
“We entered and exited the Badlands on the Federation side of the line,” Ra-Gorvalei answered.
“You took this ship into the Badlands?,” Bregath exclaimed in disbelief. “Several days ago, the area that you refer to may have been Federation space, but it is no longer. As of now, all Alliance forces are in retreat. There was a massive engagement in Sector 4452. We were there and songs will be sung about that battle. Unfortunately, they will be sad songs,” Bregath spoke in a low respectful tone. “We intercepted a Federation transmission, two days ago. It contains a list of ships that were lost.”
“Oh, my,” was all that Kingsley could manage to say.
After a moment of stunned silence as Bregath’s words set in, Ra-Gorvalei finally broke the silence. “We would appreciate a copy of that transmission, Captain. Is there anything else that we could do for you?”
Bregath thought for a second before smiling. “I have heard of a Human drink known as prune juice. It is said to be worthy of a warrior.”
Ra-Gorvalei thought of the perfect disciplinary action for Bulloch. “Ensign Bulloch, please escort our guest to the galley and get him a tall glass of prune juice.”
Bulloch thought about the Efrosian’s dressing down. It had left him in low spirits, but diplomatic duty with a Klingon sent them spiraling even lower. However, he felt that he deserved it so he mustered a smile and said,” This way, Captain.”
* * * *
Kingsley walked down the corridor that housed the medical staff’s quarters. He still had to talk to Sovek. Disciplining a doctor under his authority was nothing new to him but the particular circumstances that he was faced with changed everything now. He never had to deal with a doctor on his staff who vaporized someone.
“Doctor Kingsley, could I speak with you for a moment?,” Eskol said, quietly from behind the CO.
Kingsley jumped when he heard his voice. “Mister Eskol, where did you come from?” Looking at the Nelvian, he thought that the lights had just gone out. He realized that Eskol’s skin was the same shade of gray as the walls of the corridor. Shadows even seemed to fall across his face at the same places as they did on the bulkheads. It all gave the illusion that he was standing in a dark passageway, even though the lights were at their normal intensity.
“I was on my way to Doctor Sovek’s quarters, but I have a moment if this won’t take long,” Kingsley said, catching his breath.
“I apologize for startling you,” Eskol said as his pigment changed to match Kingsley’s. “The Vulcan is actually pertinent to what I wanted to discuss, sir. There is a gathering threat on this ship that must be dealt with.”
“I’m aware of the complaints against Doctor Sovek, and I assure you that I will personally deal with the situation,” Kingsley assured the Nelvian.
“The threat that I speak of isn’t isolated to the Vulcan. I am referring to the ship’s morale. The Vulcan is an extreme example of how the pressures of this war are wearing on the crew and on the patients. Feelings of hopelessness have a way of spreading like a cancer. This ship must believe that it will survive if it has any hope of getting home. Something must be done now, especially since the crew will soon be aware of the Federation retreat.”
“How did you know about the retreat,” Kingsley asked. “I only just found out myself.
“I find myself reminding many people on this ship that I am an intelligence officer. It’s my job to know things.”
“What would you have me do, Mister Eskol? I can’t change the tide of the war.”
“People crave leadership in times of trial. Give it to them and our chances for survival will improve dramatically.” Eskol stared at him, silently demanding a response.
“I’ll try,” Kingsley said before resuming his walk towards Sovek’s quarters. He couldn’t help but slouch ever so slightly under the burden of command.
The quality of this story continues to impress. I really like the theme of leadership running among Eskol, Kingsley and Ra-Govarlai. Great save by some heroic klingons - always fun to see them in that role.
Thanks!! rbs
Thanks!! rbs
I thought of you as Bregath, RBS. I sometimes do that with my characters. I base them on people in my life, even the online people. Gibraltar is Ra-Gorvalei. TLR is Chief Shaw.
* * * *
“I never thought that it would end this way,” Chief Shaw muttered.
“What would end this way?,” asked Flores.
“My career. I never imagined that I would be rendered useless like this.”
“You aren’t useless, Chief. Once we get back to Starbase, we’ll be able to get you to a medical facility that can give you VISOR implants, and you’ll be able to see again.”
“After months of therapy,” scoffed the Chief,” and then I’ll only have some artificial approximation of sight.”
“VISOR implants will allow you to see farther than you ever have before. You’ll be able to pick up light outside of the Human visual spectrum. Your sight will be better than anything that you’ve ever experienced before and they won’t be as fragile as natural eyes,” Krissy said, hoping that the capabilities of artificial eyes might get the Chief’s mind off of his loss.
“They’re that good, huh?,” Shaw asked her.
“Yes, Chief. They are superior to natural eyes in every way,” she replied, happy that her ploy had worked.
Shaw said in a low tone,” Then why don’t you have them?”
* * * *
“Enter,” Sovek said as the door chimes rang. The doctor was sitting in the middle of his darkened cabin, meditating in front of a Vulcan candle.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation,” Kingsley apologized.
Sovek leaned forward and blew out the candle. “Computer, restore lights to normal levels.” He stood and faced him. “It is of no convenience. How may I be of service?”
“There have been complaints. Concerning you.”
“It is no surprise. Vulcan doctors are often said to have poor ‘bedside manners’ by species with less emotional control,” Sovek replied.
“I’m afraid that the complaints are much more substantial than that,” Kingsley paused, waiting for a response. When Sovek gave none, he continued,” Did you slap a patient?”
The Vulcan’s expression didn’t change but he did avert his eyes downward. He momentarily studied the deck before again looking Kingsley in the eyes. “I silenced an unruly patient.”
“By slapping the patient?”
“He was distracting the medical staff and causing duress to the other patients. Time was short. The patient needed to be silenced quickly. So I silenced him, using the quickest means available. It was the logical thing to do.”
Kingsley nodded, considering the Vulcan’s explanation. “Why did you vaporize the Jem’Hadar soldier?”
“It was the logical thing to do. The Jem’Hadar was threatening the life of a Starfleet officer. I removed that threat,” Sovek replied, quite unemotionally.
“You didn’t need to vaporize him,” Kingsley insisted.
“I am unfamiliar with phaser operations. If I failed to incapacitate the soldier on the first shot, harm was certain to come to Ensign Parker. I set the phaser to what I rightly believed to be maximum power to ensure that my attempt would be successful.”
Kingsley nodded again. He paced to the other side of Sovek’s quarters, reviewing the Vulcan’s logic in his head. The reasoning was sound, and he couldn’t find any fallacies. However, the logic didn’t make Sovek’s actions any more acceptable.
He turned back towards Sovek. “I don’t think you’re telling me the entire truth. These violent acts, your comment the other day about the Jem’Hadar ‘deserving’ his fate, in hindsight, even urging me to surrender could be a sign of hopelessness. If you were Human, I would almost say that you’re depressed.
“Vulcans do not experience depression.”
“Maybe, but I won’t tolerate violence towards a patient, any patient. You are relieved of your duties until further notice.”
“I never thought that it would end this way,” Chief Shaw muttered.
“What would end this way?,” asked Flores.
“My career. I never imagined that I would be rendered useless like this.”
“You aren’t useless, Chief. Once we get back to Starbase, we’ll be able to get you to a medical facility that can give you VISOR implants, and you’ll be able to see again.”
“After months of therapy,” scoffed the Chief,” and then I’ll only have some artificial approximation of sight.”
“VISOR implants will allow you to see farther than you ever have before. You’ll be able to pick up light outside of the Human visual spectrum. Your sight will be better than anything that you’ve ever experienced before and they won’t be as fragile as natural eyes,” Krissy said, hoping that the capabilities of artificial eyes might get the Chief’s mind off of his loss.
“They’re that good, huh?,” Shaw asked her.
“Yes, Chief. They are superior to natural eyes in every way,” she replied, happy that her ploy had worked.
Shaw said in a low tone,” Then why don’t you have them?”
* * * *
“Enter,” Sovek said as the door chimes rang. The doctor was sitting in the middle of his darkened cabin, meditating in front of a Vulcan candle.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation,” Kingsley apologized.
Sovek leaned forward and blew out the candle. “Computer, restore lights to normal levels.” He stood and faced him. “It is of no convenience. How may I be of service?”
“There have been complaints. Concerning you.”
“It is no surprise. Vulcan doctors are often said to have poor ‘bedside manners’ by species with less emotional control,” Sovek replied.
“I’m afraid that the complaints are much more substantial than that,” Kingsley paused, waiting for a response. When Sovek gave none, he continued,” Did you slap a patient?”
The Vulcan’s expression didn’t change but he did avert his eyes downward. He momentarily studied the deck before again looking Kingsley in the eyes. “I silenced an unruly patient.”
“By slapping the patient?”
“He was distracting the medical staff and causing duress to the other patients. Time was short. The patient needed to be silenced quickly. So I silenced him, using the quickest means available. It was the logical thing to do.”
Kingsley nodded, considering the Vulcan’s explanation. “Why did you vaporize the Jem’Hadar soldier?”
“It was the logical thing to do. The Jem’Hadar was threatening the life of a Starfleet officer. I removed that threat,” Sovek replied, quite unemotionally.
“You didn’t need to vaporize him,” Kingsley insisted.
“I am unfamiliar with phaser operations. If I failed to incapacitate the soldier on the first shot, harm was certain to come to Ensign Parker. I set the phaser to what I rightly believed to be maximum power to ensure that my attempt would be successful.”
Kingsley nodded again. He paced to the other side of Sovek’s quarters, reviewing the Vulcan’s logic in his head. The reasoning was sound, and he couldn’t find any fallacies. However, the logic didn’t make Sovek’s actions any more acceptable.
He turned back towards Sovek. “I don’t think you’re telling me the entire truth. These violent acts, your comment the other day about the Jem’Hadar ‘deserving’ his fate, in hindsight, even urging me to surrender could be a sign of hopelessness. If you were Human, I would almost say that you’re depressed.
“Vulcans do not experience depression.”
“Maybe, but I won’t tolerate violence towards a patient, any patient. You are relieved of your duties until further notice.”
I am highly honored... although my cellist generally makes a more convincing klingon than I. (I secretly think he actually is klingon, surgically altered to appear human...)
Ra-Gorvalei is easily my favorite character in this story - nice choice modeling Gibraltar for that role.
I am a fan of very short, pithy scenes. Kingsley definitely made the right choice. And Sovek is lying - whether deliberately or out of denial remains to be seen. An emotionally compromised vulcan - that's a great story in itself.
Also quite amused with the callback to STNG about the artificial eyes. I can't recall offhand which episode in which that question was asked or even who asked it, but I'm a big fan of writing callbacks like that into our fanfics.
Thanks!! rbs
* * * *
“And the other Jem’Hadar ship was stupid enough to run into your second antimatter pod?!” Bregath laughed and took another swig of prune juice, downing the glass.
“Actually, the second assault ship avoided the pod and Samaritan ended up getting struck by a plasma column,” Jared said. He had groaned internally when Bulloch had spotted him entering the galley and invited him to share a glass of prune juice with a Klingon. However, while his suspicions about prune juice had held true, he was actually having fun, exchanging war stories with Captain Bregath. He had already told Jared and Bulloch about his squadron getting trapped behind enemy lines, and the Dominion ships that they had ambushed over the past couple of days. But the Klingon seemed to be more impressed at the story of the Samaritan running away from battle than he was with his own tales for running into them.
“Out of antimatter, and severely damaged, how did you escape?,” Bregath asked. “Did the Jem’Hadar simply take pity on you?”
“Well, I took over the helm. I saw a swirl in the plasma field, indicating a column was about to spring up. I turned towards it, put the engines to full, and the assault ship followed. The plasma column formed, just as the assault ship was passing over the swirl,” Jared said, smiling. “They took it right in their broadside.”
Bregath laughed again. “I’m still amazed that you even managed to navigate the Badlands in this ship, but to defeat two Jem’Hadar warships, and a third as you left. That is a story worthy of song.” He turned to Bulloch, who had been quiet for most of the storytelling. “And I suppose you, the engineer, were holding that damaged warp nacelle to the ship with your own bare hands?”
“Something like that. I was fighting fires,” Bulloch said, quietly. He wasn’t comfortable talking about the battle. “Could I get you another prune juice?”
Bregath nodded. Bulloch took the Klingon’s empty glass and headed for the replicators.
“Your friend is uncomfortable talking about your adventures,” Bregath said to Jared, once Bulloch was out of hearing range.
“Yeah, Bull had a rough time during the battle. We took one casualty and he blames himself for it.” Jared grew very quiet, wondering if he should be telling any of this to Captain Bregath.
“Was it a friend?”
“No, it was one of his engineering technicians.”
“A subordinate. Often, that can be even harder to endure.”
“I’ve tried telling him that he didn’t do anything wrong. I wish he could see that, but he just…” He couldn’t put it into words.
“Sometimes, the hardest things to see about ourselves are clear as day to others,” Bregath said. “Guilt, and remorse are some of the enemies within that can cripple a warrior as effectively as a well-placed blow from a bat’leth.”
“Cripple? Do you think that Bull will ever let it go? Ever stop carrying the burden?”
“Wounds heal, Ensign Parker. I can see that you are a good friend, and a cunning warrior. You have earned much glory in an unlikely place.”
Jared smiled and shrugged his shoulders as he said,” I try.” He took a swig of prune juice, which he regretted immediately.
“One tall glass of prune juice,” Bulloch announced, placing the glass of purple liquid in front of Bregath and reclaiming his seat.
The Klingon took a swig of his new drink. “Now, tell me more about how you escaped from the Badlands by surrendering to a Jem’Hadar assault ship…”
“Bridge to Ensign Parker,” the unmistakable voice of Carson Burns came over the intercom.
Jared rolled his eyes and tapped the combadge on his chest. “Parker here. Go ahead, JG.”
“Are you aware that you have the duty at 1400?”
Jared looked at the time readout on a nearby wall console. “It’s 1350. I have ten minutes until my shift.”
“If you had bothered to read the ship’s Standard Operating Procedures, you would know that you are supposed to report fifteen minutes early in order to conduct a proper turnover brief,” Burns said.
“Who wrote the SOP?”
“As Operations Officer, I wrote it,” Burns replied, very pleased with himself.
“Fine. I’m on my way.” Jared tapped his combadge and turned his attention to Bregath. “I’m sorry, Captain. The story will have to wait.”
“You’re not even going to finish your prune juice?,” Bregath asked him, astonished at how much of the precious beverage still remained in Jared’s glass.
“I had a lot of prune juice with breakfast,” the ensign said before turning to leave.
“Ensign Bulloch, perhaps you could finish the tale,” Bregath suggested.
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I would really rather not,” Bulloch replied.
“Ensign Parker told me that someone under your command lost his life during the battle.”
“And I suppose that you’re going to tell me that I did the right thing, just like everyone else on this ship keeps telling me.” Bulloch was clearly angry that the subject had been brought up. He didn’t care that he was raising his voice to a Klingon, or the man that had saved the Samaritan. The engineer wanted the issue to be dropped.
“I think you know that you did the right thing. The choice was between the ship or the man.”
“But it was my choice! I’m the one who made it and now Crewman Anderson is dead!” Bulloch pounded his fist on the table, causing the galley to go silent, all eyes on him and the Klingon captain.
“And you continue to relive that moment, looking for another solution!,” Bregath shouted back at him. He lowered his voice before he continued,” “You are not going to find another solution. Some battles cannot be won without sacrifice. And you forget, it wasn’t your choice. It never was.”
“What do you mean? Whose choice was it?”
“Crewman Anderson,” Bregath replied. “Did he not know what the consequences of your order was?”
Bulloch didn’t reply immediately. His mind wandered back to the Jefferies Tube. “Sir, do you mean the one on the other side of the hatch?,” Anderson’s voice came through with an obviously confused tone. “Wouldn’t that close me in?”
“He knew the consequences,” Bulloch finally said.
“It was Crewman Anderson’s choice to follow or not to follow your orders.” Bregath reached across the table and put his hand on Bulloch’s shoulder. “Your friend Jared has found much glory through his actions these past few days, but you have men willing to go to their death for you. That tells me that you have found honor. I know that you feel guilty for giving that order. It’s to be expected, but in the end, Anderson is dead and you are not. Honor his memory by being the man that he was willing to die for.”
* * * *
“Quite frankly, sir, he’s right,” Ra-Gorvalei replied after Kingsley had finished relaying Eskol’s concerns to him. “The conditions that we have been going through have obviously been wearing on Sovek. Ensign Bulloch is holding onto some sort of guilt over the death of Crewman Anderson, and after hitting that plasma column in the Badlands, Lieutenant Burns’ confidence at the helm is questionable at best.”
“Chief Shaw’s spirits have also been shaken by his recent injuries. Eskol suggested providing the crew with leadership, but where could we possibly lead them?,” Kingsley asked, wondering if the great captains of the Federation like Archer, Kirk, Sulu, or Hrelle ever felt so helpless against their own crew.
“We can’t lead them anywhere until we get that damaged nacelle fixed.” Ra-Gorvalei stared at the portrait of the Samaritan hanging on Kingsley’s wall. It was hard to believe that less than a week had passed since the ship had looked as pristine as it did in the painting. “Currently, even at our maximum warp factor, it would take nearly four years to make it back to Federation space. I can’t say that I blame the crew for their spirits being so low. I’ve found myself questioning whether or not we’ll see home again.”
Kingsley was surprised. Ra-Gorvalei’s demeanor seemed no different now than any other time that they had spoken. The Efrosian seemed serious and no more or less serious now than he had ever been.
Before he could respond, the door chimes to his quarters rang. “Enter,” the CO said.”
The doors swooshed open and Captain Bregath entered. “I have a copy of the Federation transmission. Looking over it, I noticed that Samaritan is among the ships listed as missing and presumed destroyed.” The Klingon handed his PADD over to Kingsley.
“There are only fourteen ships listed here, and Samaritan isn’t one of them,” Kingsley said after looking over the list.
“Those are the survivors.”
Ra-Gorvalei looked over his shoulder as the CO switched the PADD display to the losses. “Ninety-eight ships,” he said, his normally measured voice giving way to horrified astonishment. “And all of this happened in the past few days?”
“Those ships were lost in one battle,” Bregath corrected him. “I was there. Your compatriots fought bravely, but the Dominion ships just kept coming.”
“I can’t believe it,” Ra-Gorvalei said. “The Seventh Fleet wiped out in a single engagement.”
“Oh, my,” Kingsley gasped. “The Pegasus has been lost. Doctor Flores, a member of my medical staff… Her fiancé was on that ship.”
“Hopefully, he got to an escape pod,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
“Even if he did, I would not hold out hope. Before my ships escaped, we saw the Jem’Hadar destroying even the escape pods. They left no one alive,” Bregath explained to the CO and the XO.
“This isn’t going to help our morale situation. I’m sure that there are more of the crew than Doctor Flores that lost loved ones in that battle.”
Kingsley put the list down. He couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. “Captain Bregath, after such a crushing defeat, how do you keep your men willing to fight?”
Bregath thought for a moment. “We grieve. We sing songs, and we celebrate how our warrior brothers met their ends with courage and valor. We continue to fight, to honor the memories of our fallen and find our own glory.”
“I’m afraid that most of the species of the Federation don’t feel like singing in times such as these,” Kingsley replied.
“Then you must find something that will bring comfort to the Federation species. Poor morale is a mutiny against the soul,” the Klingon captain told them,” and as dangerous to a ship as a genuinely treacherous crew.”
* * * *
Krissy walked down the corridor, trying to think about ways to raise Chief Shaw’s spirits. Restoring his natural sight would do it but it was a near medical impossibility to repair retinas as damaged as the Chief’s. She smiled as she saw Doctor Kingsley heading down the corridor in the opposite direction. The Chief Medical Officer looked worried somehow.
“Good evening, Doctor Kingsley,” Flores greeted him. She noticed that he was avoiding looking her directly in the eye.
“Doctor Flores, I need to speak with you,” he said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
* * * *
She wasn’t hungry. She didn’t know why she came to the galley or why she ordered anything from the replicator. She pushed the food around on her plate, staring at it so she could avoid the eyes of those around her.
“Doctor, may I sit with you?” The request was unmistakably from Sovek.
“If you want,” she said softly. She figured if she could tolerate anyone’s company right now, out of all of the souls aboard the Samaritan, it would be an emotionless Vulcan.
Sovek sat down with a bowl of soup and ate in silence. After several minutes, the Vulcan asked her,” Is your meal not satisfactory?”
“It’s fine,” she replied. “I’m just not hungry.”
“It is illogical to come to the galley and order a meal if you’re not hungry.”
Krissy dropped her fork and covered her face with her hands. “I really don’t need any lectures in logic today.”
“It was only an observation. Could I speak to you on another matter?”
“What’s that?,” Krissy asked him, wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye.
“I have been forbidden to have direct dealings with any patients. I am in need of someone to take over my rounds.”
“This really isn’t the best time, Sovek.”
“The time was not of my choosing. While I may be prohibited from treating them, my patients still require care.”
“Then ask someone else!,” Krissy spat at him.
“You are becoming needlessly emotional, Doctor Flores. I will ask someone else.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not you, Sovek. It’s…” Krissy’s voice trailed off. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I doubt that. Vulcans are often able to fully understand many situations much quicker than other species. We lack the weakness of emotions.”
Sovek’s comments enraged Flores. She found herself yelling at the Vulcan. “My fiancé, Jacob, is dead! His ship was destroyed by the Jem’Hadar! Can you understand that?! Or does your lack of emotional weakness make my behavior seem logical to you?!”
“I understand loss.” Sovek’s reply was short.
“I’m sure that you understand its definition, but I’m talking about what it means and how it affects the Human soul!”
“Maintain control,” Sovek said, his rate of breathing increasing.
“Maintain control?!,” Krissy yelled back at him, thinking that the Vulcan was speaking to her. “The man that I was going to marry is dead! Do you know what that feels like?”
Sovek violently smacked his bowl of soup off of the table with rage. “Do not lecture me on the difficulty of loss! I watched my son die on the surface of MN-1375!” Krissy stared back in disbelief as tears ran down the Vulcan’s face. “I might have been able to save him, but I was operating on another patient. I asked him to hold on. I asked too much.” He stood up and left the galley.
* * * *
Unlike most of the crew, Jared Parker was feeling quite pleased with himself. A Klingon captain had told him that he had found glory. Bregath was the first Klingon that he had met, but the ensign knew that no Klingon warrior gave away praise lightly.
He was passing by the galley when the door swooshed open and Krissy almost ran into him. “Oh, Jared, excuse me.”
Jared thought back to her wishing him luck before he went to greet the Jem’Hadar First with Eskol. He remembered how badly he had treated her before that. “Krissy, listen, I want to apologize for how I’ve been treating you.”
“Not now, Jared,” Krissy said. She was fighting back her tears and she really didn’t want to have another outburst like she had in the galley.
“I just want to say – “
“Not now,” Krissy said, cutting him off. “I… I’m needed in Sickbay. I have patients that I need to attend to.” She pushed past him and put her hands over her eyes, trying to push the tears back in.
Krissy had enough control that Jared didn’t notice that she had been on the verge of crying. He thought that she was just being rude to him, intentionally. “Fine. forget about it,” he called after her. “I’m not sorry.”
* * * *
Krissy had to go to her quarters for twenty minutes to get herself under control. She had cried continuously since she had left the galley. She felt so stupid. First, she yelled at Sovek, a man who had lost his son. Then there was Jared. She had no idea what had happened with him outside the galley. And then there was Jacob. She knew that it could happen, but she never really believed it. She thought that the war would just delay their marriage. She never thought that it would end like this, so far away from him, and so far away from him. She was now in Sickbay, checking on Chief Shaw. At least, the Chief couldn’t see how red her eyes were.
“Who’s there?,” Shaw asked.
“It’s me, Chief,” she replied. “Doctor Flores.”
“Oh, are you okay?”
“What do you mean?” Krissy had no idea how the Chief could have possibly picked up on her mood.
“Wel, you’re being so quiet. You’re not trying to convince me that everything will be okay.”
“I thought that you didn’t like me telling you those things.”
“I don’t.” Shaw half-chuckled at his own joke. “I was just about to thank you.”
Krissy sighed. “I’m beginning to think that you’re right, Chief. Maybe when you lose some things, your life can never be as good as it once was.”
* * * *
Parker paced back and forth across his quarters while Bulloch sat at the room’s only desk. “I tried, Bull. I tried apologizing, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“So?,” Bulloch asked. “Try again. I know for a fact that she likes you.”
“She’s engaged,” Jared shot back.
“I meant as a friend, Jared. She likes you as a friend.”
“Maybe once, but not anymore. You weren’t there today, Bull. You didn’t see how she was acting. Forget it. I’m through with her.”
* * * *
“Come,” Ra-Gorvalei said from his desk. The XO stood when he saw that Kingsley was his visitor. “How can I help you, sir?”
“I had an idea on how we might address the morale problem.”
“Are we going to sit around and sing sad songs?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“Not exactly,” Kingsley replied. “Arrange for the crew to assemble in the shuttle bay, tomorrow morning.”
* * * *
The Shuttle Bay was crowded. Along with the crew of the Samaritan, many patients and even Bregath and several of his officers had shown up to pay their respects. The main bay doors had been opened so that the stars could be seen beyond the force-field. Kingsley stood at a podium with his back to the starry landscape. In front of him, Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei, Ensign Parker, Ensign Bulloch, and Crewman Mazhk held the four corners of the flag of the United Federation of Planets. The men held the powder-blue flag, taught and flat.
Kingsley took a deep breath before beginning. “We are gathered here today in memory of Crewman Christopher Anderson and our compatriots that lost their lives at the Battle of MN-1375. This ship’s mission is one of life. I know that none of you expected us to be forced into battle but regardless of it, we were forced into it. I know that this ship wasn’t built for what we have been demanding of it, but thanks to the commitment and sacrifice of this crew. Of men like Christopher Anderson, this ship was able to rise above its station. The truth is that we are at war, and this war continues to take from us.”
Kingsley made eye contact with Ensign Bulloch. “It takes our shipmates.” The CO found Flores standing sat the front of the crowd. “Our closest friends.” He looked at Sovek who was standing near the back of the shuttle bay. “And our dearest blood.”
Kingsley paused for a moment before continuing. “What we must remember… What is so easy to forget in times as difficult as these, is that our mission is a success. This ship is now treating one hundred and twenty percent of its patient capacity, and those patients’ prognosis is good. This ship’s mission is one of life, and we are accomplishing that mission.”
* * * *
“Sovek,” Dominic Kingsley called out, catching up to the Vulcan after the memorial service. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?”
“It was fascinating to witness a Human death ritual,” replied Sovek.
“I heard about your son, and I am sorry. You have my condolences.”
“It is I who should apologize. My behavior was not logical. I should have controlled my emotions more effectively, rather than letting them interfere with my duties.”
“Sovek, you lost your son. It’s perfectly logical. You loved him.”
“Love is not logical. It is not logical to value one life above another.”
“Tell me,” Kingsley asked,” in triage, why do we give treatment to the healthiest patients first?”
“The healthier patients have the best potential for survival.”
“Maybe you value your son more than others because you knew of the potential that he had, the potential that you helped nurture as a father, and the potential that was cut short in front of your eyes.”
Sovek weighed the argument before replying. “Perhaps. How do Humans deal with such losses?”
“We talk about the deceased’s life. We hold funerals. We share the burden that we feel.”
“There is some logic in that,” Sovek said after some time. “Doctor Kingsley, if there is no imposition, may I tell you about my son?”
“And the other Jem’Hadar ship was stupid enough to run into your second antimatter pod?!” Bregath laughed and took another swig of prune juice, downing the glass.
“Actually, the second assault ship avoided the pod and Samaritan ended up getting struck by a plasma column,” Jared said. He had groaned internally when Bulloch had spotted him entering the galley and invited him to share a glass of prune juice with a Klingon. However, while his suspicions about prune juice had held true, he was actually having fun, exchanging war stories with Captain Bregath. He had already told Jared and Bulloch about his squadron getting trapped behind enemy lines, and the Dominion ships that they had ambushed over the past couple of days. But the Klingon seemed to be more impressed at the story of the Samaritan running away from battle than he was with his own tales for running into them.
“Out of antimatter, and severely damaged, how did you escape?,” Bregath asked. “Did the Jem’Hadar simply take pity on you?”
“Well, I took over the helm. I saw a swirl in the plasma field, indicating a column was about to spring up. I turned towards it, put the engines to full, and the assault ship followed. The plasma column formed, just as the assault ship was passing over the swirl,” Jared said, smiling. “They took it right in their broadside.”
Bregath laughed again. “I’m still amazed that you even managed to navigate the Badlands in this ship, but to defeat two Jem’Hadar warships, and a third as you left. That is a story worthy of song.” He turned to Bulloch, who had been quiet for most of the storytelling. “And I suppose you, the engineer, were holding that damaged warp nacelle to the ship with your own bare hands?”
“Something like that. I was fighting fires,” Bulloch said, quietly. He wasn’t comfortable talking about the battle. “Could I get you another prune juice?”
Bregath nodded. Bulloch took the Klingon’s empty glass and headed for the replicators.
“Your friend is uncomfortable talking about your adventures,” Bregath said to Jared, once Bulloch was out of hearing range.
“Yeah, Bull had a rough time during the battle. We took one casualty and he blames himself for it.” Jared grew very quiet, wondering if he should be telling any of this to Captain Bregath.
“Was it a friend?”
“No, it was one of his engineering technicians.”
“A subordinate. Often, that can be even harder to endure.”
“I’ve tried telling him that he didn’t do anything wrong. I wish he could see that, but he just…” He couldn’t put it into words.
“Sometimes, the hardest things to see about ourselves are clear as day to others,” Bregath said. “Guilt, and remorse are some of the enemies within that can cripple a warrior as effectively as a well-placed blow from a bat’leth.”
“Cripple? Do you think that Bull will ever let it go? Ever stop carrying the burden?”
“Wounds heal, Ensign Parker. I can see that you are a good friend, and a cunning warrior. You have earned much glory in an unlikely place.”
Jared smiled and shrugged his shoulders as he said,” I try.” He took a swig of prune juice, which he regretted immediately.
“One tall glass of prune juice,” Bulloch announced, placing the glass of purple liquid in front of Bregath and reclaiming his seat.
The Klingon took a swig of his new drink. “Now, tell me more about how you escaped from the Badlands by surrendering to a Jem’Hadar assault ship…”
“Bridge to Ensign Parker,” the unmistakable voice of Carson Burns came over the intercom.
Jared rolled his eyes and tapped the combadge on his chest. “Parker here. Go ahead, JG.”
“Are you aware that you have the duty at 1400?”
Jared looked at the time readout on a nearby wall console. “It’s 1350. I have ten minutes until my shift.”
“If you had bothered to read the ship’s Standard Operating Procedures, you would know that you are supposed to report fifteen minutes early in order to conduct a proper turnover brief,” Burns said.
“Who wrote the SOP?”
“As Operations Officer, I wrote it,” Burns replied, very pleased with himself.
“Fine. I’m on my way.” Jared tapped his combadge and turned his attention to Bregath. “I’m sorry, Captain. The story will have to wait.”
“You’re not even going to finish your prune juice?,” Bregath asked him, astonished at how much of the precious beverage still remained in Jared’s glass.
“I had a lot of prune juice with breakfast,” the ensign said before turning to leave.
“Ensign Bulloch, perhaps you could finish the tale,” Bregath suggested.
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I would really rather not,” Bulloch replied.
“Ensign Parker told me that someone under your command lost his life during the battle.”
“And I suppose that you’re going to tell me that I did the right thing, just like everyone else on this ship keeps telling me.” Bulloch was clearly angry that the subject had been brought up. He didn’t care that he was raising his voice to a Klingon, or the man that had saved the Samaritan. The engineer wanted the issue to be dropped.
“I think you know that you did the right thing. The choice was between the ship or the man.”
“But it was my choice! I’m the one who made it and now Crewman Anderson is dead!” Bulloch pounded his fist on the table, causing the galley to go silent, all eyes on him and the Klingon captain.
“And you continue to relive that moment, looking for another solution!,” Bregath shouted back at him. He lowered his voice before he continued,” “You are not going to find another solution. Some battles cannot be won without sacrifice. And you forget, it wasn’t your choice. It never was.”
“What do you mean? Whose choice was it?”
“Crewman Anderson,” Bregath replied. “Did he not know what the consequences of your order was?”
Bulloch didn’t reply immediately. His mind wandered back to the Jefferies Tube. “Sir, do you mean the one on the other side of the hatch?,” Anderson’s voice came through with an obviously confused tone. “Wouldn’t that close me in?”
“He knew the consequences,” Bulloch finally said.
“It was Crewman Anderson’s choice to follow or not to follow your orders.” Bregath reached across the table and put his hand on Bulloch’s shoulder. “Your friend Jared has found much glory through his actions these past few days, but you have men willing to go to their death for you. That tells me that you have found honor. I know that you feel guilty for giving that order. It’s to be expected, but in the end, Anderson is dead and you are not. Honor his memory by being the man that he was willing to die for.”
* * * *
“Quite frankly, sir, he’s right,” Ra-Gorvalei replied after Kingsley had finished relaying Eskol’s concerns to him. “The conditions that we have been going through have obviously been wearing on Sovek. Ensign Bulloch is holding onto some sort of guilt over the death of Crewman Anderson, and after hitting that plasma column in the Badlands, Lieutenant Burns’ confidence at the helm is questionable at best.”
“Chief Shaw’s spirits have also been shaken by his recent injuries. Eskol suggested providing the crew with leadership, but where could we possibly lead them?,” Kingsley asked, wondering if the great captains of the Federation like Archer, Kirk, Sulu, or Hrelle ever felt so helpless against their own crew.
“We can’t lead them anywhere until we get that damaged nacelle fixed.” Ra-Gorvalei stared at the portrait of the Samaritan hanging on Kingsley’s wall. It was hard to believe that less than a week had passed since the ship had looked as pristine as it did in the painting. “Currently, even at our maximum warp factor, it would take nearly four years to make it back to Federation space. I can’t say that I blame the crew for their spirits being so low. I’ve found myself questioning whether or not we’ll see home again.”
Kingsley was surprised. Ra-Gorvalei’s demeanor seemed no different now than any other time that they had spoken. The Efrosian seemed serious and no more or less serious now than he had ever been.
Before he could respond, the door chimes to his quarters rang. “Enter,” the CO said.”
The doors swooshed open and Captain Bregath entered. “I have a copy of the Federation transmission. Looking over it, I noticed that Samaritan is among the ships listed as missing and presumed destroyed.” The Klingon handed his PADD over to Kingsley.
“There are only fourteen ships listed here, and Samaritan isn’t one of them,” Kingsley said after looking over the list.
“Those are the survivors.”
Ra-Gorvalei looked over his shoulder as the CO switched the PADD display to the losses. “Ninety-eight ships,” he said, his normally measured voice giving way to horrified astonishment. “And all of this happened in the past few days?”
“Those ships were lost in one battle,” Bregath corrected him. “I was there. Your compatriots fought bravely, but the Dominion ships just kept coming.”
“I can’t believe it,” Ra-Gorvalei said. “The Seventh Fleet wiped out in a single engagement.”
“Oh, my,” Kingsley gasped. “The Pegasus has been lost. Doctor Flores, a member of my medical staff… Her fiancé was on that ship.”
“Hopefully, he got to an escape pod,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
“Even if he did, I would not hold out hope. Before my ships escaped, we saw the Jem’Hadar destroying even the escape pods. They left no one alive,” Bregath explained to the CO and the XO.
“This isn’t going to help our morale situation. I’m sure that there are more of the crew than Doctor Flores that lost loved ones in that battle.”
Kingsley put the list down. He couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. “Captain Bregath, after such a crushing defeat, how do you keep your men willing to fight?”
Bregath thought for a moment. “We grieve. We sing songs, and we celebrate how our warrior brothers met their ends with courage and valor. We continue to fight, to honor the memories of our fallen and find our own glory.”
“I’m afraid that most of the species of the Federation don’t feel like singing in times such as these,” Kingsley replied.
“Then you must find something that will bring comfort to the Federation species. Poor morale is a mutiny against the soul,” the Klingon captain told them,” and as dangerous to a ship as a genuinely treacherous crew.”
* * * *
Krissy walked down the corridor, trying to think about ways to raise Chief Shaw’s spirits. Restoring his natural sight would do it but it was a near medical impossibility to repair retinas as damaged as the Chief’s. She smiled as she saw Doctor Kingsley heading down the corridor in the opposite direction. The Chief Medical Officer looked worried somehow.
“Good evening, Doctor Kingsley,” Flores greeted him. She noticed that he was avoiding looking her directly in the eye.
“Doctor Flores, I need to speak with you,” he said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
* * * *
She wasn’t hungry. She didn’t know why she came to the galley or why she ordered anything from the replicator. She pushed the food around on her plate, staring at it so she could avoid the eyes of those around her.
“Doctor, may I sit with you?” The request was unmistakably from Sovek.
“If you want,” she said softly. She figured if she could tolerate anyone’s company right now, out of all of the souls aboard the Samaritan, it would be an emotionless Vulcan.
Sovek sat down with a bowl of soup and ate in silence. After several minutes, the Vulcan asked her,” Is your meal not satisfactory?”
“It’s fine,” she replied. “I’m just not hungry.”
“It is illogical to come to the galley and order a meal if you’re not hungry.”
Krissy dropped her fork and covered her face with her hands. “I really don’t need any lectures in logic today.”
“It was only an observation. Could I speak to you on another matter?”
“What’s that?,” Krissy asked him, wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye.
“I have been forbidden to have direct dealings with any patients. I am in need of someone to take over my rounds.”
“This really isn’t the best time, Sovek.”
“The time was not of my choosing. While I may be prohibited from treating them, my patients still require care.”
“Then ask someone else!,” Krissy spat at him.
“You are becoming needlessly emotional, Doctor Flores. I will ask someone else.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not you, Sovek. It’s…” Krissy’s voice trailed off. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I doubt that. Vulcans are often able to fully understand many situations much quicker than other species. We lack the weakness of emotions.”
Sovek’s comments enraged Flores. She found herself yelling at the Vulcan. “My fiancé, Jacob, is dead! His ship was destroyed by the Jem’Hadar! Can you understand that?! Or does your lack of emotional weakness make my behavior seem logical to you?!”
“I understand loss.” Sovek’s reply was short.
“I’m sure that you understand its definition, but I’m talking about what it means and how it affects the Human soul!”
“Maintain control,” Sovek said, his rate of breathing increasing.
“Maintain control?!,” Krissy yelled back at him, thinking that the Vulcan was speaking to her. “The man that I was going to marry is dead! Do you know what that feels like?”
Sovek violently smacked his bowl of soup off of the table with rage. “Do not lecture me on the difficulty of loss! I watched my son die on the surface of MN-1375!” Krissy stared back in disbelief as tears ran down the Vulcan’s face. “I might have been able to save him, but I was operating on another patient. I asked him to hold on. I asked too much.” He stood up and left the galley.
* * * *
Unlike most of the crew, Jared Parker was feeling quite pleased with himself. A Klingon captain had told him that he had found glory. Bregath was the first Klingon that he had met, but the ensign knew that no Klingon warrior gave away praise lightly.
He was passing by the galley when the door swooshed open and Krissy almost ran into him. “Oh, Jared, excuse me.”
Jared thought back to her wishing him luck before he went to greet the Jem’Hadar First with Eskol. He remembered how badly he had treated her before that. “Krissy, listen, I want to apologize for how I’ve been treating you.”
“Not now, Jared,” Krissy said. She was fighting back her tears and she really didn’t want to have another outburst like she had in the galley.
“I just want to say – “
“Not now,” Krissy said, cutting him off. “I… I’m needed in Sickbay. I have patients that I need to attend to.” She pushed past him and put her hands over her eyes, trying to push the tears back in.
Krissy had enough control that Jared didn’t notice that she had been on the verge of crying. He thought that she was just being rude to him, intentionally. “Fine. forget about it,” he called after her. “I’m not sorry.”
* * * *
Krissy had to go to her quarters for twenty minutes to get herself under control. She had cried continuously since she had left the galley. She felt so stupid. First, she yelled at Sovek, a man who had lost his son. Then there was Jared. She had no idea what had happened with him outside the galley. And then there was Jacob. She knew that it could happen, but she never really believed it. She thought that the war would just delay their marriage. She never thought that it would end like this, so far away from him, and so far away from him. She was now in Sickbay, checking on Chief Shaw. At least, the Chief couldn’t see how red her eyes were.
“Who’s there?,” Shaw asked.
“It’s me, Chief,” she replied. “Doctor Flores.”
“Oh, are you okay?”
“What do you mean?” Krissy had no idea how the Chief could have possibly picked up on her mood.
“Wel, you’re being so quiet. You’re not trying to convince me that everything will be okay.”
“I thought that you didn’t like me telling you those things.”
“I don’t.” Shaw half-chuckled at his own joke. “I was just about to thank you.”
Krissy sighed. “I’m beginning to think that you’re right, Chief. Maybe when you lose some things, your life can never be as good as it once was.”
* * * *
Parker paced back and forth across his quarters while Bulloch sat at the room’s only desk. “I tried, Bull. I tried apologizing, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“So?,” Bulloch asked. “Try again. I know for a fact that she likes you.”
“She’s engaged,” Jared shot back.
“I meant as a friend, Jared. She likes you as a friend.”
“Maybe once, but not anymore. You weren’t there today, Bull. You didn’t see how she was acting. Forget it. I’m through with her.”
* * * *
“Come,” Ra-Gorvalei said from his desk. The XO stood when he saw that Kingsley was his visitor. “How can I help you, sir?”
“I had an idea on how we might address the morale problem.”
“Are we going to sit around and sing sad songs?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“Not exactly,” Kingsley replied. “Arrange for the crew to assemble in the shuttle bay, tomorrow morning.”
* * * *
The Shuttle Bay was crowded. Along with the crew of the Samaritan, many patients and even Bregath and several of his officers had shown up to pay their respects. The main bay doors had been opened so that the stars could be seen beyond the force-field. Kingsley stood at a podium with his back to the starry landscape. In front of him, Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei, Ensign Parker, Ensign Bulloch, and Crewman Mazhk held the four corners of the flag of the United Federation of Planets. The men held the powder-blue flag, taught and flat.
Kingsley took a deep breath before beginning. “We are gathered here today in memory of Crewman Christopher Anderson and our compatriots that lost their lives at the Battle of MN-1375. This ship’s mission is one of life. I know that none of you expected us to be forced into battle but regardless of it, we were forced into it. I know that this ship wasn’t built for what we have been demanding of it, but thanks to the commitment and sacrifice of this crew. Of men like Christopher Anderson, this ship was able to rise above its station. The truth is that we are at war, and this war continues to take from us.”
Kingsley made eye contact with Ensign Bulloch. “It takes our shipmates.” The CO found Flores standing sat the front of the crowd. “Our closest friends.” He looked at Sovek who was standing near the back of the shuttle bay. “And our dearest blood.”
Kingsley paused for a moment before continuing. “What we must remember… What is so easy to forget in times as difficult as these, is that our mission is a success. This ship is now treating one hundred and twenty percent of its patient capacity, and those patients’ prognosis is good. This ship’s mission is one of life, and we are accomplishing that mission.”
* * * *
“Sovek,” Dominic Kingsley called out, catching up to the Vulcan after the memorial service. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?”
“It was fascinating to witness a Human death ritual,” replied Sovek.
“I heard about your son, and I am sorry. You have my condolences.”
“It is I who should apologize. My behavior was not logical. I should have controlled my emotions more effectively, rather than letting them interfere with my duties.”
“Sovek, you lost your son. It’s perfectly logical. You loved him.”
“Love is not logical. It is not logical to value one life above another.”
“Tell me,” Kingsley asked,” in triage, why do we give treatment to the healthiest patients first?”
“The healthier patients have the best potential for survival.”
“Maybe you value your son more than others because you knew of the potential that he had, the potential that you helped nurture as a father, and the potential that was cut short in front of your eyes.”
Sovek weighed the argument before replying. “Perhaps. How do Humans deal with such losses?”
“We talk about the deceased’s life. We hold funerals. We share the burden that we feel.”
“There is some logic in that,” Sovek said after some time. “Doctor Kingsley, if there is no imposition, may I tell you about my son?”
Quite liking this klingon - and the idea that what a hospital ship needs for healing its crew in the wake of disaster is a big badass klingon warrior. Nicely done on all storylines - really one of the most creative and well crafted fanfics I've run across. And I've run across some really great stuff.
Thanks!! rbs
Thank you, RBS. I try my best and with this rewrite, I'm putting in some of the things that I've learned as a writer.
I'm a slow reader but finally caught up. Quite a roller coaster ride here. Initially I figured this to be just a short little wartime vignette, turns out this is an emotionally packed saga of a little hospital ship that could, filled with inexperienced yet colorful characters.
And their ordeal seems to be far from over.
And their ordeal seems to be far from over.
Oh, there's plenty more than I plan to throw at the Samaritan crew. ::evil grin::
Star Trek: USS Samaritan
“Healer’s Hope”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Part Four
Chapter Seven: Night Swimming
Samaritan’s Sickbay was uncharacteristically noisy. The Klingon patients were well on their way to recovery and showed their regained health by boisterously singing songs and recalling tales of battle. Dominic Kingsley looked over the PADD that Nurse Haas had just handed him. The Klingons’ injuries had been light, compared to the ones that the Federation ground troops had sustained on MN-1375.
Kingsley looked up from the report when he heard heavy footsteps heading in his direction. Captain Bregath was quickly approaching him, followed by Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei.
“Commander Kingsley, are my men ready to return to their duties?,” the Klingon asked as he stopped in front of the doctor.
“I can clear most of them for duty. There are two or three that should have another day of rest,” Kingsley told him. “They’re fresh out of surgery and still at risk of infection.”
“Infection is a risk that they will have to take. My ships are leaving in two hours, “ Bregath stated,” and I need every one of my warriors at their stations.”
“Where are we going?,” Kingsley asked.
“We aren’t going with them,” Ra-Gorvalei interjected. “Captain Bregath sent one of his Birds of Prey to scout out the surrounding area. The Dominion battleship is heading in this direction.”
Bregath continued. “There are a limited number of places in this area of space where four ships could hide themselves from long-range sensors. It will not be long before the Jem’Hadar decide to take a closer look at the pulsar that we’re orbiting.”
“Where are we supposed to go? The Samaritan can’t outrun the battleship,” Kingsley asked. He had felt a certain degree of security with three Klingon ships escorting the Nightingale. He wasn’t very experienced in combat, but in the past week, he had gained enough understanding to know that Samaritan had been lucky enough to survive the attacks that it had endured. He feared that another attack would be fatal.
“Captain Bregath has given us the coordinates of a planet where his ships engaged a squadron of Jem’Hadar assault ships. One of the vessels crashed into the surface of the planet,” Ra-Gorvalei explained. “If we’re lucky, we may be able to scavenge parts to repair our damaged warp nacelle.”
“This planet is composed of heavy metals and it should mask your ship’s warp signature. In the meantime,” Bregath assured the doctor,” I will give your Dominion battleship something else to chase.”
* * * *
Flores wanted to be alone or maybe she just felt alone. She wasn’t sure. Either way, she had no idea what she was doing in the galley. With many of the patients from MN-1375 recovering, the galley was even more crowded than normal. It didn’t make sense for her to be there, not if she wanted to be alone. Not much made sense since Jacob had died. She was looking at a PADD, pretending to read the medical study that it displayed. In actuality, she was just avoiding eye contact with those around her. She was doing such a good job of avoiding eye contact with others that she didn’t even notice that someone had sat down across the table from her.
“My dear doctor, you look like you are in desperate need of company,” a familiar voice came from across the table. Krissy looked up, finally noticing the gray-skinned newcomer, but she didn’t recognize who it was until the gray pigment warmed to a deep golden tan, matching her own skin.
“Eskol, how are you doing?,” she asked him in a tone that was much less cheerful and optimistic than her usual demeanor.
“Much better than you, if your voice is any indication,” the Nelvian said, munching on a chip of wood from his plate.
“I’m sorry,” Krissy said, looking back down at her PADD. “I just don’t feel like talking much right now.”
“I doubt that. If you were trying to avoid company, you wouldn’t have come to the galley. The one space on the ship that most encourages casual conversation.”
“Maybe I was just hungry?”
“Then where is your food?,” Eskol asked, gesturing to his own plate and the lack of one in front of Krissy.
“You’re really having fun with me, aren’t you?”
“Some, but I’m also concerned as to what is troubling you.”
Krissy didn’t answer. Her throat was closing up and she could feel the tear trying to escape her eyes. She dropped the PADD and put her hand over her eyes.
Eskol dropped the wood chip in his hand back onto his plate and stared at his meal. “I know what it’s like to carry a deep pain of the soul. It’s like trying to carry a great stone. You feel as if the weight of it will crush you, but it’s easier to bear if you ask someone to share it.”
Krissy wiped the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know if there is anyone like that for me… anymore.”
“I think that’s why you came here to the galley. You’re looking for someone to share your pain. If you don’t wish to share it with me, please share it with someone before you are crushed underneath its weight.”
“Who did you share your pain with?”
Eskol’s complexion turned to a dark magenta as the question washed over him. “I’ve shared it with no one.”
“The weight hasn’t crushed you.”
“In time, Doctor,” Eskol said quietly. He stared at the table and took a deep breath. When he looked up again, his skin had returned to the golden tan that matched Flores’ own. “What are you reading?,” he asked her.
Krissy was relieved that Eskol had changed the subject. “It’s a medical research paper by an optometrist from Amanecer. He was experimenting with an isogenic enzyme to help regenerate ocular tissue. I thought that I might be able to find a way to help Chief Shaw.” She sighed and added,” But we don’t have any of this experimental enzyme aboard."
“You can’t replicate it or synthesize it?”
Flores shook her head. “And according to the research, there’s only a limited amount of time after the injury occurs that the procedure has any chance of being successful.”
“May I see?,” Eskol asked, and she handed him the PADD. The Nelvian browsed through it until he reached a chemical diagram of the substance. “This is Ketracel White.”
“The drug that the Jem’Hadar are addicted to?,” Krissy asked in disbelief.
“Ketracel White is much more than a drug. It enhances body functions, strength, speed, the immune system, and healing processes. And this substance is chemically identical to it,” he explained.
Flores’ excitement about the revelation quickly left her as she realized that she was no closer to securing a supply of the drug. “I don’t suppose you know where I could get some Ketracel White?”
“As a matter of fact, I believe that the ship is heading towards a supply of it now.”
* * * *
“We’ll be arriving at the coordinates that the Klingons provided in twenty minutes,” Burns reported from the helm.
“Excellent,” Kingsley said from the command chair. “Hopefully, we’ll find all of the parts that we need.”
“I’ll order Mister Bulloch to assemble his technicians,” Ra-Gorvalei said from the port station. “Lieutenant Burns, who will be piloting the runabout?”
“I’ve ordered Ensign Parker to pilot the McCoy. He should be preflighting it now. Would you like me to check up on him, sir?,” asked the helmsman.
“That’s all right,” replied Ra-Gorvalei. “I’m sure that Ensign Parker is carrying out his duties.”
“Mister Ra-Gorvalei, how do we know that we’ll be able to use the parts from the Dominion ship?”
“I’m not sure who’s there to object,” the Efrosian answered Kingsley.
“That’s not what I meant.” Kingsley took a moment to figure out just how to explain his concern. “If a Tellarite were having kidney failure, I couldn’t replace it with an organ from a Bolian. The physiology of the two races are simply incompatible. Are we sure that the parts from a Dominion ship are even compatible with our own?”
“I don’t know,” Ra-Gorvalei admitted. “But I think that there is someone aboard who does.” The Efrosian tapped his combadge. “Ra-Gorvalei to Eskol.”
After a moment, Eskol’s voice came across the intercom. “Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei, allow me to guess. You would like my assistance in recovering parts from the Jem’Hadar ship and installing them aboard Samaritan?”
“Mister Eskol, in light of all of your other capabilities, I am beginning to believe that Nelvians must be telepathic as well.”
“Not at all. I’m just very astute. It’s obvious that I’ve had prior dealing with the Dominion. Experience that I highly doubt that any of your crew share. I thought it would only be a matter of time before you solicited my assistance,” Eskol explained.
“Fair enough. Please meet Ensign Bulloch’s engineering team in the shuttle bay in twenty minutes,” Ra-Gorvalei instructed him. “And you’re sure that Dominion technologies are compatible with our own?”
“Quite sure, Lieutenant. Most of them, anyway,” Eskol said before he signed off.
The door to the Bridge swooshed open. The three Starfleet officers all turned to see Doctor Floes standing in the doorway.
“Can I help you, Doctor?,” Kingsley asked her.
“I need to talk to you about Chief Shaw,” Krissy said, feeling out of place standing on the Bridge. “It can’t wait.”
Kingsley stepped to the back of the Bridge and spoke quietly with the young woman. After a short conversation, he nodded and Flores left the Bridge.
“Is everything all right?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“Fine,” Kingsley replied. “Doctor Flores will be joining the away team.”
* * * *
Chief Shaw couldn’t remember a time that he was on a starship and in such low spirits. When he was young, he couldn’t wait to leave the weighty bonds of natural gravity and head off into the void of space. He never experienced the longing to be planetside like many young starfarers did. He didn’t understand the homesickness that his friends complained about until the end of his first tour. He had to wait an agonizing two months on Earth before his new ship left for the stars again.
“Underway is the only way”, was a saying that he used to tell the crewmen that he served with. He loved being part of a crew, always having some job vital to the ship before him, knowing that even a task as mundane as calibrating the injector assembly could prove crucial to the survival of the ship while it traveled through the void. That part of his life was over as far as he could see. He would always be in a void now, but not the massless space between planetary systems. He was now trapped in the dark void of blindness. He had been relieved of his duties and reclassified as a patient. He was useless to Starfleet now.
“How are you doing, Chief?,” Doctor Flores asked him.
“Still blind,” he said. “Do you really need to check on me this much? I was blind yesterday, and chances are that I’ll be blind tomorrow.”
“This time is different. I have to ask for your permission to perform a procedure.”
“The implant thing again? I thought you said that we had to wait until we got back to a starbase to do that. Did we get home without anybody telling me?”
“We’re still not home yet, Chief, but I’ve come across a treatment that might be able to restore your sight. There has been very little research done on the technique. It might not even work, but there is a possibility that it may partially, maybe even, fully restore your vision.”
“I knew that there was a way. Anything can be fixed. That’s what I’ve always told my crewmen. Let’s get started,” the Chief replied, feeling excitement and hope surge through his being. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner? I want to go under the knife, right now.”
“We’ll have to wait a little while before we can start. The treatment is time critical, and I didn’t think that we would come across a supply of the drug before our window had passed,” Flores explained. “That’s why I didn’t bring it up.”
“You don’t keep that kind of stuff aboard?”
“The drug is Ketracel White.”
“You mean the stuff that the Jem’Hadar are addicted to?,” the Chief asked in disbelief. “How do you come across a supply of that?”
* * * *
Jared Parker was working his way through the startup sequence on the McCoy. He was surprised that Burns hadn’t checked up on him over the communicator.
“Hey, Jared,” Bulloch said, walking into the cockpit from the passageway that led to the medical hold.
“What’s up, Bull? Your crew’s ready to go?,” he asked, turning to face his friend.
“Waiting for a couple of stragglers,” Bulloch said. “You know, I really think you should…”
“Hold on a second,” Jared said, turning back to his instruments.
“Something wrong?”
“The starboard nacelle looked like it was getting a little hot on startup, but it’s within limits. Startup is complete. We’re ready to go,” Jared said. “What was it you were saying?”
* * * *
Eskol was standing at the stern of the McCoy, staring at an odd area of the shuttle bay’s deck plating. He ran his foot over the deformation and felt the rippled texture of the deck.
“Excuse me, Crewman,” he said, stopping a passing engineering technician. He pointed at the odd rippling in the deck. “What is that?”
“The deck was warped by a disruptor blast back in the Badlands,” the Crewman explained, pointing at a metal patch welded on the shuttle bay door. “It came through right here. We scrubbed off the scorch marks, but we haven’t had time to smooth out the deck yet.”
* * * *
“I was saying I really think that you should try to work things out with Flores,” Bulloch said, finishing his previous thought.
“Why? What is your obsession with her and I getting along?,” Jared asked him. “She’s engaged to some other guy, remember?”
“I just think it would make things a lot easier since –”
“Since what? What things will make it easier?,” he interrupted him. “I told you. I’m done with her. She doesn’t matter to me.”
The port door to the cockpit swooshed open. Both Jared and Bulloch turned to see Krissy step in from the shuttle bay.
“Since she’s coming with us,” Bulloch finished quietly. He turned to Krissy and pointed at the copilot’s chair. “Why don’t you sit up here? It’s a lot more comfortable than the medical hold. Especially a medical hold filled with my engineers.”
“Thank you, Shane,” she said, taking a seat.
“Well, I’d better go and make sure that my techs are all ready,” Bulloch said. Jared shot him a dirty look, but the engineer just smiled back and left through the door that he had come in from.
* * * *
“Entering standard orbit,” Burns reported.
“Captain Bregath wasn’t exaggerating,” Ra-Gorvalei said, looking over the sensor readouts. “There are exceptionally high concentrations of kelbonite in the planet’s crust. Our warp signature will be masked completely. As anticipated, our targeting sensors are nearly useless when we turn them towards the planet. So transporters won’t function.”
“Can we find the Jem’Hadar assault ship without targeting sensors?,” Kingsley asked.
“That depends. The engines of all starships emit charged ions. In space or a fluid medium, the charge dissipates quickly, but if the ship comes near a conductive material, the charge will remain for some time. If the assault ship’s engines were still emitting an ion trail when it crashed, the ore in the ground should retain the charge.”
Ra-Gorvalei switched the sensor readout to display magnetic flux.
“I’m picking up an odd divergence in the planet’s magnetic field. I’m displaying the area on screen.” He tapped a control and the main viewscreen switched from an orbital view to a visual scan of the surface. A large grassy plain with what looked like a short black hash mark in the center could be seen.
“Can you make it bigger?,” Kingsley asked him.
“Maximum magnification,” Ra-Gorvalei said, pressing another control. The unmistakable scarab shape of a Jem’Hadar assault ship was clearly seen at the end of the scorched path that the ship had cut through the grassy plain during its forced landing. “That’s it.”
“Are there any survivors?”
“I can’t tell, sir. The kelbonite is interfering with the scans,” the Efrosian replied,” but I did equip the away team with the three remaining hand phasers.”
* * * *
“Mister Bulloch, I was wondering if I shouldn’t have a phaser?,” Eskol asked. “After all, the Jem’Hadar aren’t very fond of me.” The Nelvian used one of the biobeds to steady himself against a slight jolt in the medical hold as the McCoy lifted off of the deck and fired its maneuvering thrusters to back the runabout out of the shuttle bay.
“Sorry, Eskol, but we only have three of them. The fourth one got sucked out into space in our last confrontation with the Jem’Hadar,” explained Bulloch.
“This ship was only issued four phasers?”
“Shouldn’t you know that?,” Bulloch asked him, mockingly. “I thought you were an intelligence officer.”
“I am,” Eskol said,” but a ship of this size having that few phasers has nothing to do with intelligence. It’s pure stupidity.”
* * * *
“Healer’s Hope”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
Part Four
Chapter Seven: Night Swimming
Samaritan’s Sickbay was uncharacteristically noisy. The Klingon patients were well on their way to recovery and showed their regained health by boisterously singing songs and recalling tales of battle. Dominic Kingsley looked over the PADD that Nurse Haas had just handed him. The Klingons’ injuries had been light, compared to the ones that the Federation ground troops had sustained on MN-1375.
Kingsley looked up from the report when he heard heavy footsteps heading in his direction. Captain Bregath was quickly approaching him, followed by Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei.
“Commander Kingsley, are my men ready to return to their duties?,” the Klingon asked as he stopped in front of the doctor.
“I can clear most of them for duty. There are two or three that should have another day of rest,” Kingsley told him. “They’re fresh out of surgery and still at risk of infection.”
“Infection is a risk that they will have to take. My ships are leaving in two hours, “ Bregath stated,” and I need every one of my warriors at their stations.”
“Where are we going?,” Kingsley asked.
“We aren’t going with them,” Ra-Gorvalei interjected. “Captain Bregath sent one of his Birds of Prey to scout out the surrounding area. The Dominion battleship is heading in this direction.”
Bregath continued. “There are a limited number of places in this area of space where four ships could hide themselves from long-range sensors. It will not be long before the Jem’Hadar decide to take a closer look at the pulsar that we’re orbiting.”
“Where are we supposed to go? The Samaritan can’t outrun the battleship,” Kingsley asked. He had felt a certain degree of security with three Klingon ships escorting the Nightingale. He wasn’t very experienced in combat, but in the past week, he had gained enough understanding to know that Samaritan had been lucky enough to survive the attacks that it had endured. He feared that another attack would be fatal.
“Captain Bregath has given us the coordinates of a planet where his ships engaged a squadron of Jem’Hadar assault ships. One of the vessels crashed into the surface of the planet,” Ra-Gorvalei explained. “If we’re lucky, we may be able to scavenge parts to repair our damaged warp nacelle.”
“This planet is composed of heavy metals and it should mask your ship’s warp signature. In the meantime,” Bregath assured the doctor,” I will give your Dominion battleship something else to chase.”
* * * *
Flores wanted to be alone or maybe she just felt alone. She wasn’t sure. Either way, she had no idea what she was doing in the galley. With many of the patients from MN-1375 recovering, the galley was even more crowded than normal. It didn’t make sense for her to be there, not if she wanted to be alone. Not much made sense since Jacob had died. She was looking at a PADD, pretending to read the medical study that it displayed. In actuality, she was just avoiding eye contact with those around her. She was doing such a good job of avoiding eye contact with others that she didn’t even notice that someone had sat down across the table from her.
“My dear doctor, you look like you are in desperate need of company,” a familiar voice came from across the table. Krissy looked up, finally noticing the gray-skinned newcomer, but she didn’t recognize who it was until the gray pigment warmed to a deep golden tan, matching her own skin.
“Eskol, how are you doing?,” she asked him in a tone that was much less cheerful and optimistic than her usual demeanor.
“Much better than you, if your voice is any indication,” the Nelvian said, munching on a chip of wood from his plate.
“I’m sorry,” Krissy said, looking back down at her PADD. “I just don’t feel like talking much right now.”
“I doubt that. If you were trying to avoid company, you wouldn’t have come to the galley. The one space on the ship that most encourages casual conversation.”
“Maybe I was just hungry?”
“Then where is your food?,” Eskol asked, gesturing to his own plate and the lack of one in front of Krissy.
“You’re really having fun with me, aren’t you?”
“Some, but I’m also concerned as to what is troubling you.”
Krissy didn’t answer. Her throat was closing up and she could feel the tear trying to escape her eyes. She dropped the PADD and put her hand over her eyes.
Eskol dropped the wood chip in his hand back onto his plate and stared at his meal. “I know what it’s like to carry a deep pain of the soul. It’s like trying to carry a great stone. You feel as if the weight of it will crush you, but it’s easier to bear if you ask someone to share it.”
Krissy wiped the tears from her eyes. “I don’t know if there is anyone like that for me… anymore.”
“I think that’s why you came here to the galley. You’re looking for someone to share your pain. If you don’t wish to share it with me, please share it with someone before you are crushed underneath its weight.”
“Who did you share your pain with?”
Eskol’s complexion turned to a dark magenta as the question washed over him. “I’ve shared it with no one.”
“The weight hasn’t crushed you.”
“In time, Doctor,” Eskol said quietly. He stared at the table and took a deep breath. When he looked up again, his skin had returned to the golden tan that matched Flores’ own. “What are you reading?,” he asked her.
Krissy was relieved that Eskol had changed the subject. “It’s a medical research paper by an optometrist from Amanecer. He was experimenting with an isogenic enzyme to help regenerate ocular tissue. I thought that I might be able to find a way to help Chief Shaw.” She sighed and added,” But we don’t have any of this experimental enzyme aboard."
“You can’t replicate it or synthesize it?”
Flores shook her head. “And according to the research, there’s only a limited amount of time after the injury occurs that the procedure has any chance of being successful.”
“May I see?,” Eskol asked, and she handed him the PADD. The Nelvian browsed through it until he reached a chemical diagram of the substance. “This is Ketracel White.”
“The drug that the Jem’Hadar are addicted to?,” Krissy asked in disbelief.
“Ketracel White is much more than a drug. It enhances body functions, strength, speed, the immune system, and healing processes. And this substance is chemically identical to it,” he explained.
Flores’ excitement about the revelation quickly left her as she realized that she was no closer to securing a supply of the drug. “I don’t suppose you know where I could get some Ketracel White?”
“As a matter of fact, I believe that the ship is heading towards a supply of it now.”
* * * *
“We’ll be arriving at the coordinates that the Klingons provided in twenty minutes,” Burns reported from the helm.
“Excellent,” Kingsley said from the command chair. “Hopefully, we’ll find all of the parts that we need.”
“I’ll order Mister Bulloch to assemble his technicians,” Ra-Gorvalei said from the port station. “Lieutenant Burns, who will be piloting the runabout?”
“I’ve ordered Ensign Parker to pilot the McCoy. He should be preflighting it now. Would you like me to check up on him, sir?,” asked the helmsman.
“That’s all right,” replied Ra-Gorvalei. “I’m sure that Ensign Parker is carrying out his duties.”
“Mister Ra-Gorvalei, how do we know that we’ll be able to use the parts from the Dominion ship?”
“I’m not sure who’s there to object,” the Efrosian answered Kingsley.
“That’s not what I meant.” Kingsley took a moment to figure out just how to explain his concern. “If a Tellarite were having kidney failure, I couldn’t replace it with an organ from a Bolian. The physiology of the two races are simply incompatible. Are we sure that the parts from a Dominion ship are even compatible with our own?”
“I don’t know,” Ra-Gorvalei admitted. “But I think that there is someone aboard who does.” The Efrosian tapped his combadge. “Ra-Gorvalei to Eskol.”
After a moment, Eskol’s voice came across the intercom. “Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei, allow me to guess. You would like my assistance in recovering parts from the Jem’Hadar ship and installing them aboard Samaritan?”
“Mister Eskol, in light of all of your other capabilities, I am beginning to believe that Nelvians must be telepathic as well.”
“Not at all. I’m just very astute. It’s obvious that I’ve had prior dealing with the Dominion. Experience that I highly doubt that any of your crew share. I thought it would only be a matter of time before you solicited my assistance,” Eskol explained.
“Fair enough. Please meet Ensign Bulloch’s engineering team in the shuttle bay in twenty minutes,” Ra-Gorvalei instructed him. “And you’re sure that Dominion technologies are compatible with our own?”
“Quite sure, Lieutenant. Most of them, anyway,” Eskol said before he signed off.
The door to the Bridge swooshed open. The three Starfleet officers all turned to see Doctor Floes standing in the doorway.
“Can I help you, Doctor?,” Kingsley asked her.
“I need to talk to you about Chief Shaw,” Krissy said, feeling out of place standing on the Bridge. “It can’t wait.”
Kingsley stepped to the back of the Bridge and spoke quietly with the young woman. After a short conversation, he nodded and Flores left the Bridge.
“Is everything all right?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“Fine,” Kingsley replied. “Doctor Flores will be joining the away team.”
* * * *
Chief Shaw couldn’t remember a time that he was on a starship and in such low spirits. When he was young, he couldn’t wait to leave the weighty bonds of natural gravity and head off into the void of space. He never experienced the longing to be planetside like many young starfarers did. He didn’t understand the homesickness that his friends complained about until the end of his first tour. He had to wait an agonizing two months on Earth before his new ship left for the stars again.
“Underway is the only way”, was a saying that he used to tell the crewmen that he served with. He loved being part of a crew, always having some job vital to the ship before him, knowing that even a task as mundane as calibrating the injector assembly could prove crucial to the survival of the ship while it traveled through the void. That part of his life was over as far as he could see. He would always be in a void now, but not the massless space between planetary systems. He was now trapped in the dark void of blindness. He had been relieved of his duties and reclassified as a patient. He was useless to Starfleet now.
“How are you doing, Chief?,” Doctor Flores asked him.
“Still blind,” he said. “Do you really need to check on me this much? I was blind yesterday, and chances are that I’ll be blind tomorrow.”
“This time is different. I have to ask for your permission to perform a procedure.”
“The implant thing again? I thought you said that we had to wait until we got back to a starbase to do that. Did we get home without anybody telling me?”
“We’re still not home yet, Chief, but I’ve come across a treatment that might be able to restore your sight. There has been very little research done on the technique. It might not even work, but there is a possibility that it may partially, maybe even, fully restore your vision.”
“I knew that there was a way. Anything can be fixed. That’s what I’ve always told my crewmen. Let’s get started,” the Chief replied, feeling excitement and hope surge through his being. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner? I want to go under the knife, right now.”
“We’ll have to wait a little while before we can start. The treatment is time critical, and I didn’t think that we would come across a supply of the drug before our window had passed,” Flores explained. “That’s why I didn’t bring it up.”
“You don’t keep that kind of stuff aboard?”
“The drug is Ketracel White.”
“You mean the stuff that the Jem’Hadar are addicted to?,” the Chief asked in disbelief. “How do you come across a supply of that?”
* * * *
Jared Parker was working his way through the startup sequence on the McCoy. He was surprised that Burns hadn’t checked up on him over the communicator.
“Hey, Jared,” Bulloch said, walking into the cockpit from the passageway that led to the medical hold.
“What’s up, Bull? Your crew’s ready to go?,” he asked, turning to face his friend.
“Waiting for a couple of stragglers,” Bulloch said. “You know, I really think you should…”
“Hold on a second,” Jared said, turning back to his instruments.
“Something wrong?”
“The starboard nacelle looked like it was getting a little hot on startup, but it’s within limits. Startup is complete. We’re ready to go,” Jared said. “What was it you were saying?”
* * * *
Eskol was standing at the stern of the McCoy, staring at an odd area of the shuttle bay’s deck plating. He ran his foot over the deformation and felt the rippled texture of the deck.
“Excuse me, Crewman,” he said, stopping a passing engineering technician. He pointed at the odd rippling in the deck. “What is that?”
“The deck was warped by a disruptor blast back in the Badlands,” the Crewman explained, pointing at a metal patch welded on the shuttle bay door. “It came through right here. We scrubbed off the scorch marks, but we haven’t had time to smooth out the deck yet.”
* * * *
“I was saying I really think that you should try to work things out with Flores,” Bulloch said, finishing his previous thought.
“Why? What is your obsession with her and I getting along?,” Jared asked him. “She’s engaged to some other guy, remember?”
“I just think it would make things a lot easier since –”
“Since what? What things will make it easier?,” he interrupted him. “I told you. I’m done with her. She doesn’t matter to me.”
The port door to the cockpit swooshed open. Both Jared and Bulloch turned to see Krissy step in from the shuttle bay.
“Since she’s coming with us,” Bulloch finished quietly. He turned to Krissy and pointed at the copilot’s chair. “Why don’t you sit up here? It’s a lot more comfortable than the medical hold. Especially a medical hold filled with my engineers.”
“Thank you, Shane,” she said, taking a seat.
“Well, I’d better go and make sure that my techs are all ready,” Bulloch said. Jared shot him a dirty look, but the engineer just smiled back and left through the door that he had come in from.
* * * *
“Entering standard orbit,” Burns reported.
“Captain Bregath wasn’t exaggerating,” Ra-Gorvalei said, looking over the sensor readouts. “There are exceptionally high concentrations of kelbonite in the planet’s crust. Our warp signature will be masked completely. As anticipated, our targeting sensors are nearly useless when we turn them towards the planet. So transporters won’t function.”
“Can we find the Jem’Hadar assault ship without targeting sensors?,” Kingsley asked.
“That depends. The engines of all starships emit charged ions. In space or a fluid medium, the charge dissipates quickly, but if the ship comes near a conductive material, the charge will remain for some time. If the assault ship’s engines were still emitting an ion trail when it crashed, the ore in the ground should retain the charge.”
Ra-Gorvalei switched the sensor readout to display magnetic flux.
“I’m picking up an odd divergence in the planet’s magnetic field. I’m displaying the area on screen.” He tapped a control and the main viewscreen switched from an orbital view to a visual scan of the surface. A large grassy plain with what looked like a short black hash mark in the center could be seen.
“Can you make it bigger?,” Kingsley asked him.
“Maximum magnification,” Ra-Gorvalei said, pressing another control. The unmistakable scarab shape of a Jem’Hadar assault ship was clearly seen at the end of the scorched path that the ship had cut through the grassy plain during its forced landing. “That’s it.”
“Are there any survivors?”
“I can’t tell, sir. The kelbonite is interfering with the scans,” the Efrosian replied,” but I did equip the away team with the three remaining hand phasers.”
* * * *
“Mister Bulloch, I was wondering if I shouldn’t have a phaser?,” Eskol asked. “After all, the Jem’Hadar aren’t very fond of me.” The Nelvian used one of the biobeds to steady himself against a slight jolt in the medical hold as the McCoy lifted off of the deck and fired its maneuvering thrusters to back the runabout out of the shuttle bay.
“Sorry, Eskol, but we only have three of them. The fourth one got sucked out into space in our last confrontation with the Jem’Hadar,” explained Bulloch.
“This ship was only issued four phasers?”
“Shouldn’t you know that?,” Bulloch asked him, mockingly. “I thought you were an intelligence officer.”
“I am,” Eskol said,” but a ship of this size having that few phasers has nothing to do with intelligence. It’s pure stupidity.”
* * * *
Ensign Jared Parker found himself making corrections for the slightest deviation from the desired course. He wondered if there had ever been a track that had conformed so precisely to the preflight course. His precision and accuracy were unnecessary for such a simple flight plan. It did make him look busy so that it was easier to ignore the girl sitting next to him.
Krissy didn’t feel any great desire to talk to him either. She didn’t feel like talking to anybody. She didn’t quite understand why but sat silently in the runabout next to Jared. It was even harder than normal not to think of Jacob. She wished that they were on the planet already so that she could distract herself with work.
The stars in the forward windows began to face away and a blue haze became more pronounced until the black of space had been blocked out by the brilliant blue of a daytime sky. White wisps across the cockpit’s windows as the McCoy passed through a cloud layer. The runabout broke out into clear skies, eight thousand feet above the ground. The assault ship could clearly be seen at the end of a dirt trail that it had kicked up in the otherwise undisturbed green meadow.
“We’re on final approach,” Jared announced over the intercom.
“Have you scanned for life signs?,” Eskol’s voice called back.
“Scanning,” Jared said. “I’m not picking up anything, but the sensor resolution is pretty low.”
“The kelbonite is interfering with the scans, but I think we can trust them at this close of a range,” Bulloch’s voice said over the intercom. “We’ll still inspect the ship with phasers drawn, just in case.”
The McCoy set down gently near the downed assault ship. The doors to the medical hold opened and Ensign Bulloch, followed by two of his technicians, stepped out, holding their phasers at the ready. The air smelled slightly foul. Several limb bodies of Jem’Hadar soldiers could be seen lying in unnatural positions around their ship. Eskol and the rest of the engineering team came out last.
Jared walked up beside Bulloch. “Wow, it’s hot out here.”
“It’s nice to finally be out in the sun again,” Flores commented. She flipped open a tricorder and scanned the nearest Jem’Hadar. “He’s dead.”
“For several days, from the smell of it,” Eksol said.
Krissy pointed her tricorder towards the assault ship. “I’m picking up ten other biomasses, but no life signs.”
“That’s only eleven,” Eskol said with concern in his voice.
“Is that bad?,” asked Bulloch.
“The standard crew complement of an assault ship is twelve.”
Flores knelt down next to the dead Jem’Hadar. The tube coming out of the soldier’s neck was empty. She reached into the receptacle affixed to his chest at the other end of the tube and pulled out a glass container.
“Empty,” she said, dejectedly. She had to find some Ketracel for the Chief’s procedure.
“That’s probably what he died from. They can’t survive without it,” Eskol said, kneeling beside her. He removed the Jem’Hadar’s sidearm from its holster. He stood up and turned towards Bulloch. “You should have your men collect any weapons that they see. The ship could use them, and we should be armed, in case that missing crew member shows up.”
The team spread out, scavenging the weapons that they found and checking for any full vials of Ketracel White. Nine Jem’Hadar bodies were found outside the ship. None of them had a trace of the Dominion narcotic left in their systems, let alone left in their chest-mounted dispensers.
* * * *
Bulloch dropped down from an open hatch in the overhead of the Bridge of the assault ship. He swept the space with his phaser. There were two more corpses lying on the Bridge. One Jem’Hadar and one Vorta.
“Clear,” he called out.
Parker, Eskol, and Flores came down through the hatch. Krissy immediately went to the Jem’Hadar. Eskol picked up an odd-looking box with a hole blown into it.
“These two make eleven,” Bulloch said, referring to the bodies.
“What’s that?,” Jared asked, gesturing towards the box.
“It contained the vials of Ketracel White for this ship, but it appears that someone tried to open it with a phaser. Any attempt to open a box like this with force and the box destroys the White,” Eskol explained.
“Then why to try to open it by force?,” Bulloch asked him.
“The only person that can open this box is a live Vorta. And the ship’s Vorta seems to have died in the crash,” Eskol said. “With the Vorta as the only source of the drug, the Jem’Hadar’s loyalty to the Dominion is guaranteed.”
“That’s odd. It looks like the air filtration system hasn’t been working for a month,” Krissy said, looking at her tricorder. “Or these Jem’Hadar shed dead skin like no species that I’ve seen before. There is an incredible amount of Jem’Hadar bio-matter in the air.”
Eskol looked over her shoulder at the tricorder readout. “It looks like we’ve found number twelve.” His comment drew quizzical looks from everyone standing on the Bridge. “The unaccounted Jem’Hadar soldier was vaporized by this one.” He nodded towards the soldier lying in front of him. The soldier was clutching his pistol.
“He was shot too,” Krissy said, scanning the dead Jem’Hadar’s wound. “He bled to death.”
“Why would they kill each other?,” Jared asked.
“Probably over this box,” Eskol said, tossing it aside,” but it doesn’t matter.”
Krissy reached into the dead soldier’s dispenser. She felt the glass vial and closed her eyes as she pulled it out. This was the Chief’s last hope for treatment. She opened her eyes to see a vial filled slightly less than halfway with a white liquid. It was enough.
“We should get this back to the ship as soon as possible. The sooner that I can give Chief Shaw the treatment, the better are the chances of success.”
“My techs should have all of our equipment unloaded by now. We’ll have to be here for a while. Jared, why don’t you run the doctor back to Samaritan while my team gets to work,” Bulloch said.
“All right,” Jared said, turning towards the hatch. “Come on, Doctor.”
* * * *
Jared and Krissy were sharing another uncomfortable silence in the cockpit of the McCoy as the small vessel lifted off of the ground and began climbing up to altitude. He didn’t mind piloting a runabout as he was actually glad that he was flying rather than assisting the engineering team. What he was annoyed about was that he seemed to be doing another favor for Krissy. He knew that this trip back to the Samaritan was to help the Chief, and he really hoped that the treatment would work. After the way that she had treated him, the way that she wouldn’t even hear his apology. He was pulled out of his brooding when the entire runabout shuttered.
“What was that?,” Flores asked him, gripping the armrest of her chair.
“Maybe we hit a pocket of turbulence,” Jared said, checking the inertial dampening system. It was in the green. The McCoy shuttered again, only this time it was much more violent. The runabout was pulling to the right, despite his attempts at trying to correct the heading drift. It was like a maneuvering thruster had been left on.
Towards the stern of the vessel, drive plasma had melted a small hole through the alloy of the starboard nacelle. It had been fatigued by a phased polaron beam from the Jem’Hadar assault ship that had punched through the shuttle bay door almost a week before. The superheated plasma widened the hole exponentially.
“The starboard nacelle temperature is all over the place,” Jared said as the McCoy became increasingly hard to control.
“Is that bad?,” Krissy asked him. There was a sudden jolt and the runabout began rolling out of control. Both she and Jared had to strain to sit upright.
“It looks like the nacelle has exploded. It took out most of the starboard thrusters along with it,” Jared said over the warning sirens that began to blare their klaxons as system after system began to fail. The months of emergency procedure training that every Starfleet officer had to endure took control of his actions like an instinctive response. He shut off the plasma flow to the starboard nacelle and then he isolated the antimatter pod from the main reactor.
He tried the emergency transporters but the computer system replied with an unpromising beep.
“Emergency transporters can’t find a destination point. It’s the damned kelbonite. We’re going to have to eject the command module. Sit up straight in your car, put your head against the headrest, and your arms on the armrests.”
Krissy was sitting slightly hunched over and she was beginning to hyperventilate. Spinning as it was, the ground grew closer and closer in the forward window.
“Krissy!,” Jared yelled at her. “Put your head against the headrest and your arms on the armrests!”
Flores was startled by his hollering but the message finally registered with her. She sat rigid, pressing against the back of her chair. Jared pressed a control and a strap shot up from between her legs. It was met around her breastbone by two others from over either shoulder. The straps pulled tight and held her to her chair. She looked over at Jared who was restrained as well.
* * * *
“How is the away team doing?,” Kingsley asked, entering the Bridge.
“Ensign Bulloch signaled from the surface. He reports that his team has identified all of the parts necessary to repair our damaged nacelle, but it will take some time to remove them from the assault ship. He also said that Ensign Parker and Doctor Flores are returning to the ship with a vial of Ketracel White,” Ra-Gorvalei reported.
“Everything seems to be going as well as expected.” The CO was pleased. The ship would soon be repaired and he could take his patients back behind friendly lines where they belonged.
“Transmission coming in from the McCoy,” Burns said.
The message was short but the meaning was immediately apparent to the Starfleet officers. Even to Kingsley who feared that he was about to learn another hard lesson in command.
“McCoy to Samaritan,” Jared’s voice sounded over the Bridge speakers. “Ditch, ditch, ditch.”
* * * *
Krissy’s breaths were fast and shallow. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. There was no sky in the window, only the ground spinning in a green blur.
“Ditch, ditch, ditch!,” Jared hollered.
Krissy felt sick, partly from the spinning, but mostly from panic.
“Hold on,” Jared told her. There was a loud clunk as an emergency bulkhead sealed off the aft door of the command module. There was a jolt from behind as explosive bolts forcefully separated the cockpit from the rest of the runabout.
“Stardrive section released,” he added, his hands flying over the flight controls, and the spinning in the forward window ceased. “Leveling descent.”
Krissy felt her body was being pulled down from the inside. Looking out the window, she saw the sky creep back into view. The G-forces eased off her body as the module levelled off. The green land beneath them suddenly ended and it was replaced by a deep blue.
“It looks like we’re making a water landing.”
Krissy was amazed at how calm he seemed. She couldn’t keep a thought in her head. Fear prevented any coherent idea from forming.
“Brace for impact!,” Jared commanded.
The sea was coming up fast as the command module plummeted downwards. Krissy closed her eyes and grit her teeth. Violent splashes filled the forward window as the module struck the water. It was airborne again, launching several meters into the air by the force of its own impact. Consoles and screens went dark as their delicate electronics were shattered by the force of the crash. The emergency harnesses held Jared and Flores securely in their seats, and in a much better condition than the damaged electronics. The module skipped across the surface of the water twice more before bobbing to a relative stop.
* * * *
“The emergency beacon should be broadcasting,” Ra-Gorvalei said, swiftly before methodically going through every scanning method that he knew. “The signal may be distorted. Make sure that you monitor the surrounding frequency bands.”
“There’s too much interference from the metals in the planet’s crust,” Burns replied. “I’m not picking up anything.”
“What does that mean?,” Kingsley asked.
The Efrosian sighed. “It means that we have no idea where our people are.”
* * * *
Parker looked at his feet, resting on the floor in a pool of water. He craned his neck and looked around the cockpit. More water was slowly trickling in, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He tried to operate the console in front of him, but the computer didn’t respond. The command module was useless, and it was slowly filling with water. Again, his emergency procedure training took over his actions.
“We’ve got to get out of here!,” Krissy screamed, grabbing at the straps that held her connected to her chair. “How do you get this off?! I can’t get it off!”
“Krissy! Be quiet and listen up!,” Jared yelled at her. The volume and authority in his voice silenced the doctor immediately. “We’re going to get out of here, but you can’t un-strap yourself yet.” He paused and added. “I’m going to open the doors, but this module isn’t buoyant. That means that water will come rushing in. We’re going to stay strapped in as the water comes in, so the current doesn’t fling us against the bulkheads. Do you understand?”
Krissy nodded. Her panic had her on the verge of tears.
“This module is also top-heavy, so it’s going to flip over once it fills with water,” Jared continued. “It’ll be very disorienting and it’s going to get dark so I want you to put one hand on the console in front of you and hold onto it. That will be your reference point. Once the cockpit is completely filled with water and it’s stopped rotating, that reference point will let you know where you are. You will then release your straps with that button in the middle of your chest. Move to your right and head out the door. Do you understand?”
Krissy nodded again.
“When you’re out, swim to the surface. Air bubbles float to the surface. Remember to follow the bubbles. Do you understand?”
Krissy nodded.
“Good. Now tell me what we’re going to do when the doors open.”
Krissy’s voice shook as she spoke. “Grab the console, and let the water come in. wait until it stops moving. Release the straps. Go to the right, and follow the bubbles.”
“Good. Ready?”
Krissy took a deep breath and tried to calm herself without much success. She grabbed the console in front of her before looking back at Jared. Nodding, she said,” Ready.”
Jared pressed one of the only controls that were still lit on his console. Explosive bolts fired and blew off the port and starboard doors of the cockpit. The water came in at a fast and steady rate.
Krissy felt the water seep down her boots as the level rose past her ankles. As the level rose past her waist, the chill of the water made her breath swallow. She had to concentrate to force her breathing under control. When the water was up to her chest, the entire cockpit began to rotate to the left. She was lifted out of the water as the port side of the module sank. She took a deep breath and she plunged back into the water, head first.
After a moment, the movement stopped. She pressed the button and the straps retracted. “To the right,” she said in her head. She pulled herself along the consoles, hand over hand until she got to the door, pulling herself out and beginning to swim hard. As she kicked, she was surprised by how far the module had sunk.
Several small bubbles of air escaped her nose and unexpectedly floated towards her feet. She was swimming in the wrong direction. Reversing course, her chest spasmed, begging her for more air. She knew that Humans still had half a minute of air left when this natural response occurred, but she panicked and kicked more frantically.
She burst to the surface and took in new air. She swallowed a mouth load of metallic-tasting water as she gasped for air. She felt something pulling at her shoulders. She was dragged onto something slippery, and she began to cough up the water that she had swallowed.
* * * *
“We’ve located the stardrive of the McCoy by scanning for its ion trail. We suspect that the command module made a water landing,” Ra-Gorvalei said over the intercom,” so similar scans were useless.”
Ensign Shane Bulloch couldn’t believe it. He knew Jared’s skills as a pilot were as good as they came. It had to have been an engineering flaw. If he was dead, then he was responsible. “I’ll figure out a way to find them, sir.”
“We still need the parts from the assault ship, Mister Bulloch. That’s your first priority. We’ll send down the Phlox to pick up your team and everything that you’ve scavenged,” the lieutenant told him.
“Negative, sir. The Phlox is down. Its antimatter pod is fueling the Samaritan,” Bulloch said. “A runabout can make an emergency landing on the surface on its fusion reactors alone, but its antimatter reactor needs to be functioning for it to take off again and reach escape velocity.”
“Couldn’t the Phlox borrow the pod?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“I wouldn’t recommend it. After that pod is unhooked from Samaritan’s reactor, we’ll only have thirty minutes to put it back before auxiliary power runs out. Non-vital systems will start to shut down, including the medical equipment that’s still keeping some patients alive.”
“It would take, at least, an hour just to recover you and your team,” Ra-Gorvalei said. “There’s just not enough time.”
* * * *
Finally catching her breath, Krissy looked up at her surroundings. She was in the middle of a large octagonal yellow raft. In every direction, nothing could be seen but the deep blue sea. “What happened?,” she finally asked.
Jared was lying on one end of the raft, his hands clasped across his chest and his head resting on the raft wall. He raised his head to look at her. “We crashed.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I mean, why did we crash?”
Jared looked to the sky, resting his head on the raft wall again. What kind of question was that? He felt like she was blaming him. “The starboard nacelle exploded so we crashed. I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter. We got out alive, and I managed to grab the raft from under my seat.”
“When are they coming for us?,” Flores asked.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
“Well, did you contact them?,” she asked. Jared said nothing. “They’re coming, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know. Somehow I..” Jared sighed. “I lost my communicator getting out of the command module.”
* * * *
The heat didn’t help Bulloch get his head around the problem. Neither did the fact that his friend was lost somewhere else on the planet, or the possibility that his own team was stranded here. His technicians were collecting anything that could be used in the Samaritan’s repairs. Most importantly, a section of one of the assault ship’s warp nacelles was being removed, but how would he get these parts back to the Samaritan to be properly installed?
He pulled out his tricorder, scanning the assault ship and the surrounding plain once again. Down here on the surface, so close to the downed ship, the scans were fairly clear. At least, clear enough for a transporter lock. If only he could bring the Samaritan’s targeting scanners down here to the surface.
Bulloch gasped slightly as inspiration struck him. He moved closer to the assault ship and scanned it. It should work.
* * * *
“Does the assault ship have any shuttles?,” Kingsley asked. He and Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei were sitting at his desk in the CO’s quarters.
“None that are serviceable, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei replied. “They were destroyed in the crash.”
“What about their antimatter? Could we use that to power the other runabout?”
“We could use it if we could get it into our reactor. The Dominion stores its antimatter in a tank that’s physically part of the ship, instead of pods. We could fill an antimatter pod from it if we had a spare one but we don’t.”
“We’ve been able to survive three attacks from Dominion ships,” Kingsley said despondently. “Now it appears that circumstances will achieve what the Jem’Hadar could not.”
“The ship is not in immediate danger, sir. We’re far safer now than we were in the Badlands,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
Kingsley turned in his chair and looked out the window at the planet below. “Members of our crew are stranded on the surface. We’re not even certain that two of them are alive.”
“Mister Burns and I did calculate a likely crash area. They probably made a water landing, but the search area is the size of Calto Province on Efros.”
The men sat in silence until a voice came over the intercom. “Bulloch to Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei. I have an idea.”
* * * *
Krissy didn’t feel any great desire to talk to him either. She didn’t feel like talking to anybody. She didn’t quite understand why but sat silently in the runabout next to Jared. It was even harder than normal not to think of Jacob. She wished that they were on the planet already so that she could distract herself with work.
The stars in the forward windows began to face away and a blue haze became more pronounced until the black of space had been blocked out by the brilliant blue of a daytime sky. White wisps across the cockpit’s windows as the McCoy passed through a cloud layer. The runabout broke out into clear skies, eight thousand feet above the ground. The assault ship could clearly be seen at the end of a dirt trail that it had kicked up in the otherwise undisturbed green meadow.
“We’re on final approach,” Jared announced over the intercom.
“Have you scanned for life signs?,” Eskol’s voice called back.
“Scanning,” Jared said. “I’m not picking up anything, but the sensor resolution is pretty low.”
“The kelbonite is interfering with the scans, but I think we can trust them at this close of a range,” Bulloch’s voice said over the intercom. “We’ll still inspect the ship with phasers drawn, just in case.”
The McCoy set down gently near the downed assault ship. The doors to the medical hold opened and Ensign Bulloch, followed by two of his technicians, stepped out, holding their phasers at the ready. The air smelled slightly foul. Several limb bodies of Jem’Hadar soldiers could be seen lying in unnatural positions around their ship. Eskol and the rest of the engineering team came out last.
Jared walked up beside Bulloch. “Wow, it’s hot out here.”
“It’s nice to finally be out in the sun again,” Flores commented. She flipped open a tricorder and scanned the nearest Jem’Hadar. “He’s dead.”
“For several days, from the smell of it,” Eksol said.
Krissy pointed her tricorder towards the assault ship. “I’m picking up ten other biomasses, but no life signs.”
“That’s only eleven,” Eskol said with concern in his voice.
“Is that bad?,” asked Bulloch.
“The standard crew complement of an assault ship is twelve.”
Flores knelt down next to the dead Jem’Hadar. The tube coming out of the soldier’s neck was empty. She reached into the receptacle affixed to his chest at the other end of the tube and pulled out a glass container.
“Empty,” she said, dejectedly. She had to find some Ketracel for the Chief’s procedure.
“That’s probably what he died from. They can’t survive without it,” Eskol said, kneeling beside her. He removed the Jem’Hadar’s sidearm from its holster. He stood up and turned towards Bulloch. “You should have your men collect any weapons that they see. The ship could use them, and we should be armed, in case that missing crew member shows up.”
The team spread out, scavenging the weapons that they found and checking for any full vials of Ketracel White. Nine Jem’Hadar bodies were found outside the ship. None of them had a trace of the Dominion narcotic left in their systems, let alone left in their chest-mounted dispensers.
* * * *
Bulloch dropped down from an open hatch in the overhead of the Bridge of the assault ship. He swept the space with his phaser. There were two more corpses lying on the Bridge. One Jem’Hadar and one Vorta.
“Clear,” he called out.
Parker, Eskol, and Flores came down through the hatch. Krissy immediately went to the Jem’Hadar. Eskol picked up an odd-looking box with a hole blown into it.
“These two make eleven,” Bulloch said, referring to the bodies.
“What’s that?,” Jared asked, gesturing towards the box.
“It contained the vials of Ketracel White for this ship, but it appears that someone tried to open it with a phaser. Any attempt to open a box like this with force and the box destroys the White,” Eskol explained.
“Then why to try to open it by force?,” Bulloch asked him.
“The only person that can open this box is a live Vorta. And the ship’s Vorta seems to have died in the crash,” Eskol said. “With the Vorta as the only source of the drug, the Jem’Hadar’s loyalty to the Dominion is guaranteed.”
“That’s odd. It looks like the air filtration system hasn’t been working for a month,” Krissy said, looking at her tricorder. “Or these Jem’Hadar shed dead skin like no species that I’ve seen before. There is an incredible amount of Jem’Hadar bio-matter in the air.”
Eskol looked over her shoulder at the tricorder readout. “It looks like we’ve found number twelve.” His comment drew quizzical looks from everyone standing on the Bridge. “The unaccounted Jem’Hadar soldier was vaporized by this one.” He nodded towards the soldier lying in front of him. The soldier was clutching his pistol.
“He was shot too,” Krissy said, scanning the dead Jem’Hadar’s wound. “He bled to death.”
“Why would they kill each other?,” Jared asked.
“Probably over this box,” Eskol said, tossing it aside,” but it doesn’t matter.”
Krissy reached into the dead soldier’s dispenser. She felt the glass vial and closed her eyes as she pulled it out. This was the Chief’s last hope for treatment. She opened her eyes to see a vial filled slightly less than halfway with a white liquid. It was enough.
“We should get this back to the ship as soon as possible. The sooner that I can give Chief Shaw the treatment, the better are the chances of success.”
“My techs should have all of our equipment unloaded by now. We’ll have to be here for a while. Jared, why don’t you run the doctor back to Samaritan while my team gets to work,” Bulloch said.
“All right,” Jared said, turning towards the hatch. “Come on, Doctor.”
* * * *
Jared and Krissy were sharing another uncomfortable silence in the cockpit of the McCoy as the small vessel lifted off of the ground and began climbing up to altitude. He didn’t mind piloting a runabout as he was actually glad that he was flying rather than assisting the engineering team. What he was annoyed about was that he seemed to be doing another favor for Krissy. He knew that this trip back to the Samaritan was to help the Chief, and he really hoped that the treatment would work. After the way that she had treated him, the way that she wouldn’t even hear his apology. He was pulled out of his brooding when the entire runabout shuttered.
“What was that?,” Flores asked him, gripping the armrest of her chair.
“Maybe we hit a pocket of turbulence,” Jared said, checking the inertial dampening system. It was in the green. The McCoy shuttered again, only this time it was much more violent. The runabout was pulling to the right, despite his attempts at trying to correct the heading drift. It was like a maneuvering thruster had been left on.
Towards the stern of the vessel, drive plasma had melted a small hole through the alloy of the starboard nacelle. It had been fatigued by a phased polaron beam from the Jem’Hadar assault ship that had punched through the shuttle bay door almost a week before. The superheated plasma widened the hole exponentially.
“The starboard nacelle temperature is all over the place,” Jared said as the McCoy became increasingly hard to control.
“Is that bad?,” Krissy asked him. There was a sudden jolt and the runabout began rolling out of control. Both she and Jared had to strain to sit upright.
“It looks like the nacelle has exploded. It took out most of the starboard thrusters along with it,” Jared said over the warning sirens that began to blare their klaxons as system after system began to fail. The months of emergency procedure training that every Starfleet officer had to endure took control of his actions like an instinctive response. He shut off the plasma flow to the starboard nacelle and then he isolated the antimatter pod from the main reactor.
He tried the emergency transporters but the computer system replied with an unpromising beep.
“Emergency transporters can’t find a destination point. It’s the damned kelbonite. We’re going to have to eject the command module. Sit up straight in your car, put your head against the headrest, and your arms on the armrests.”
Krissy was sitting slightly hunched over and she was beginning to hyperventilate. Spinning as it was, the ground grew closer and closer in the forward window.
“Krissy!,” Jared yelled at her. “Put your head against the headrest and your arms on the armrests!”
Flores was startled by his hollering but the message finally registered with her. She sat rigid, pressing against the back of her chair. Jared pressed a control and a strap shot up from between her legs. It was met around her breastbone by two others from over either shoulder. The straps pulled tight and held her to her chair. She looked over at Jared who was restrained as well.
* * * *
“How is the away team doing?,” Kingsley asked, entering the Bridge.
“Ensign Bulloch signaled from the surface. He reports that his team has identified all of the parts necessary to repair our damaged nacelle, but it will take some time to remove them from the assault ship. He also said that Ensign Parker and Doctor Flores are returning to the ship with a vial of Ketracel White,” Ra-Gorvalei reported.
“Everything seems to be going as well as expected.” The CO was pleased. The ship would soon be repaired and he could take his patients back behind friendly lines where they belonged.
“Transmission coming in from the McCoy,” Burns said.
The message was short but the meaning was immediately apparent to the Starfleet officers. Even to Kingsley who feared that he was about to learn another hard lesson in command.
“McCoy to Samaritan,” Jared’s voice sounded over the Bridge speakers. “Ditch, ditch, ditch.”
* * * *
Krissy’s breaths were fast and shallow. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. There was no sky in the window, only the ground spinning in a green blur.
“Ditch, ditch, ditch!,” Jared hollered.
Krissy felt sick, partly from the spinning, but mostly from panic.
“Hold on,” Jared told her. There was a loud clunk as an emergency bulkhead sealed off the aft door of the command module. There was a jolt from behind as explosive bolts forcefully separated the cockpit from the rest of the runabout.
“Stardrive section released,” he added, his hands flying over the flight controls, and the spinning in the forward window ceased. “Leveling descent.”
Krissy felt her body was being pulled down from the inside. Looking out the window, she saw the sky creep back into view. The G-forces eased off her body as the module levelled off. The green land beneath them suddenly ended and it was replaced by a deep blue.
“It looks like we’re making a water landing.”
Krissy was amazed at how calm he seemed. She couldn’t keep a thought in her head. Fear prevented any coherent idea from forming.
“Brace for impact!,” Jared commanded.
The sea was coming up fast as the command module plummeted downwards. Krissy closed her eyes and grit her teeth. Violent splashes filled the forward window as the module struck the water. It was airborne again, launching several meters into the air by the force of its own impact. Consoles and screens went dark as their delicate electronics were shattered by the force of the crash. The emergency harnesses held Jared and Flores securely in their seats, and in a much better condition than the damaged electronics. The module skipped across the surface of the water twice more before bobbing to a relative stop.
* * * *
“The emergency beacon should be broadcasting,” Ra-Gorvalei said, swiftly before methodically going through every scanning method that he knew. “The signal may be distorted. Make sure that you monitor the surrounding frequency bands.”
“There’s too much interference from the metals in the planet’s crust,” Burns replied. “I’m not picking up anything.”
“What does that mean?,” Kingsley asked.
The Efrosian sighed. “It means that we have no idea where our people are.”
* * * *
Parker looked at his feet, resting on the floor in a pool of water. He craned his neck and looked around the cockpit. More water was slowly trickling in, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He tried to operate the console in front of him, but the computer didn’t respond. The command module was useless, and it was slowly filling with water. Again, his emergency procedure training took over his actions.
“We’ve got to get out of here!,” Krissy screamed, grabbing at the straps that held her connected to her chair. “How do you get this off?! I can’t get it off!”
“Krissy! Be quiet and listen up!,” Jared yelled at her. The volume and authority in his voice silenced the doctor immediately. “We’re going to get out of here, but you can’t un-strap yourself yet.” He paused and added. “I’m going to open the doors, but this module isn’t buoyant. That means that water will come rushing in. We’re going to stay strapped in as the water comes in, so the current doesn’t fling us against the bulkheads. Do you understand?”
Krissy nodded. Her panic had her on the verge of tears.
“This module is also top-heavy, so it’s going to flip over once it fills with water,” Jared continued. “It’ll be very disorienting and it’s going to get dark so I want you to put one hand on the console in front of you and hold onto it. That will be your reference point. Once the cockpit is completely filled with water and it’s stopped rotating, that reference point will let you know where you are. You will then release your straps with that button in the middle of your chest. Move to your right and head out the door. Do you understand?”
Krissy nodded again.
“When you’re out, swim to the surface. Air bubbles float to the surface. Remember to follow the bubbles. Do you understand?”
Krissy nodded.
“Good. Now tell me what we’re going to do when the doors open.”
Krissy’s voice shook as she spoke. “Grab the console, and let the water come in. wait until it stops moving. Release the straps. Go to the right, and follow the bubbles.”
“Good. Ready?”
Krissy took a deep breath and tried to calm herself without much success. She grabbed the console in front of her before looking back at Jared. Nodding, she said,” Ready.”
Jared pressed one of the only controls that were still lit on his console. Explosive bolts fired and blew off the port and starboard doors of the cockpit. The water came in at a fast and steady rate.
Krissy felt the water seep down her boots as the level rose past her ankles. As the level rose past her waist, the chill of the water made her breath swallow. She had to concentrate to force her breathing under control. When the water was up to her chest, the entire cockpit began to rotate to the left. She was lifted out of the water as the port side of the module sank. She took a deep breath and she plunged back into the water, head first.
After a moment, the movement stopped. She pressed the button and the straps retracted. “To the right,” she said in her head. She pulled herself along the consoles, hand over hand until she got to the door, pulling herself out and beginning to swim hard. As she kicked, she was surprised by how far the module had sunk.
Several small bubbles of air escaped her nose and unexpectedly floated towards her feet. She was swimming in the wrong direction. Reversing course, her chest spasmed, begging her for more air. She knew that Humans still had half a minute of air left when this natural response occurred, but she panicked and kicked more frantically.
She burst to the surface and took in new air. She swallowed a mouth load of metallic-tasting water as she gasped for air. She felt something pulling at her shoulders. She was dragged onto something slippery, and she began to cough up the water that she had swallowed.
* * * *
“We’ve located the stardrive of the McCoy by scanning for its ion trail. We suspect that the command module made a water landing,” Ra-Gorvalei said over the intercom,” so similar scans were useless.”
Ensign Shane Bulloch couldn’t believe it. He knew Jared’s skills as a pilot were as good as they came. It had to have been an engineering flaw. If he was dead, then he was responsible. “I’ll figure out a way to find them, sir.”
“We still need the parts from the assault ship, Mister Bulloch. That’s your first priority. We’ll send down the Phlox to pick up your team and everything that you’ve scavenged,” the lieutenant told him.
“Negative, sir. The Phlox is down. Its antimatter pod is fueling the Samaritan,” Bulloch said. “A runabout can make an emergency landing on the surface on its fusion reactors alone, but its antimatter reactor needs to be functioning for it to take off again and reach escape velocity.”
“Couldn’t the Phlox borrow the pod?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“I wouldn’t recommend it. After that pod is unhooked from Samaritan’s reactor, we’ll only have thirty minutes to put it back before auxiliary power runs out. Non-vital systems will start to shut down, including the medical equipment that’s still keeping some patients alive.”
“It would take, at least, an hour just to recover you and your team,” Ra-Gorvalei said. “There’s just not enough time.”
* * * *
Finally catching her breath, Krissy looked up at her surroundings. She was in the middle of a large octagonal yellow raft. In every direction, nothing could be seen but the deep blue sea. “What happened?,” she finally asked.
Jared was lying on one end of the raft, his hands clasped across his chest and his head resting on the raft wall. He raised his head to look at her. “We crashed.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I mean, why did we crash?”
Jared looked to the sky, resting his head on the raft wall again. What kind of question was that? He felt like she was blaming him. “The starboard nacelle exploded so we crashed. I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter. We got out alive, and I managed to grab the raft from under my seat.”
“When are they coming for us?,” Flores asked.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
“Well, did you contact them?,” she asked. Jared said nothing. “They’re coming, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know. Somehow I..” Jared sighed. “I lost my communicator getting out of the command module.”
* * * *
The heat didn’t help Bulloch get his head around the problem. Neither did the fact that his friend was lost somewhere else on the planet, or the possibility that his own team was stranded here. His technicians were collecting anything that could be used in the Samaritan’s repairs. Most importantly, a section of one of the assault ship’s warp nacelles was being removed, but how would he get these parts back to the Samaritan to be properly installed?
He pulled out his tricorder, scanning the assault ship and the surrounding plain once again. Down here on the surface, so close to the downed ship, the scans were fairly clear. At least, clear enough for a transporter lock. If only he could bring the Samaritan’s targeting scanners down here to the surface.
Bulloch gasped slightly as inspiration struck him. He moved closer to the assault ship and scanned it. It should work.
* * * *
“Does the assault ship have any shuttles?,” Kingsley asked. He and Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei were sitting at his desk in the CO’s quarters.
“None that are serviceable, sir,” Ra-Gorvalei replied. “They were destroyed in the crash.”
“What about their antimatter? Could we use that to power the other runabout?”
“We could use it if we could get it into our reactor. The Dominion stores its antimatter in a tank that’s physically part of the ship, instead of pods. We could fill an antimatter pod from it if we had a spare one but we don’t.”
“We’ve been able to survive three attacks from Dominion ships,” Kingsley said despondently. “Now it appears that circumstances will achieve what the Jem’Hadar could not.”
“The ship is not in immediate danger, sir. We’re far safer now than we were in the Badlands,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
Kingsley turned in his chair and looked out the window at the planet below. “Members of our crew are stranded on the surface. We’re not even certain that two of them are alive.”
“Mister Burns and I did calculate a likely crash area. They probably made a water landing, but the search area is the size of Calto Province on Efros.”
The men sat in silence until a voice came over the intercom. “Bulloch to Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei. I have an idea.”
* * * *
“Damn, it’s hot,” Jared said. They were the first words between the raft’s two occupants in almost twenty minutes.
“It feels good,” Krissy said, lying on the other side of the raft. “It reminds me of home. I missed being in the sun.”
Jared sat up and unzipped his black and gray uniform jacket. He wrestled himself out of the wet garment and threw it aside.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m hot,” Jared said, removing the long-sleeved red shirt that he wore underneath.
“You’ll burn,” Krissy protested. “You have to keep your skin covered.”
“At least, I won’t be hot.” He lay back down and sighed in relief as the breeze cooled his bare skin.
“You’re impossible,” Krissy huffed at him. “I’m trying to help you. I am a doctor.”
“Maybe I’ll let you treat my sunburn,” Jared replied without looking up. He paused for a moment before adding,” On second thought, never mind. I don’t need you doing me any favors.”
“Is that what this is about?,” Krissy asked. She looked down and stared at the yellow raft bottom. “What did I ever do that was so wrong?”
Jared opened his eyes and looked at the woman across from him. “I was wrong about that. I tried to tell you.” He sat up. Krissy looked up and the two of them locked their eyes for a moment before both of them averted their gaze towards the floor of the raft. He added quietly. “I tried to apologize, but you didn’t care. You brushed me aside and you wouldn’t even hear me out.”
“It wasn’t you, Jared,” she said, rubbing the corner of her eye to wipe away tears before they formed. “It’s Jacob…” The name was almost choked off as her throat tightened. She fought to keep control, but she knew that she would burst into tears at any moment.
Ensign Parker stared at the bottom of the raft. He didn’t see her face reddening in her struggle to control her emotions. He didn’t even see the yellow of the raft. All that he saw was Krissy wrapping her arms around Jacob Muller’s neck on the shuttle bay of the Pegasus. He remembered how betrayed he had felt and it made him angry.
“Your fiancé doesn’t want you talking to me?” He looked up when he heard sobs.
Krissy raised her head, tears streaming down her face. “The Pegasus was destroyed. Jacob is dead.”
* * * *
“I’ve input the scan into the transporter buffer,” Ra-Gorvalei told Kingsley. They were standing in front of the transporter panel in Sickbay. “Energizing.”
The Efrosian activated the transporter. A shimmering light appeared on the deck, not far from either officer. When the light died out, there was a Jem’Hadar disruptor pistol in its place. The XO picked up the weapon and tapped his combadge. “Ra-Gorvalei to Bulloch. Transport complete. We have the disruptor.”
“Is it functional?,” Bulloch asked over their combadges.
Ra-Gorvalei pressed a button on the transporter panel, activating the force field that they had rigged on their escape from the Badlands. He raised the disruptor and fired it into the field. Kingsley jumped as a blue beam lashed out from the pistol and the force field sizzled as it absorbed the energy.
“It works.”
“We’ll begin scanning the rest of the weapons and equipment for transport immediately.”
“Excellent,” Kingsley said, smiling. “Then you and your team can scan yourselves and get back to the ship.”
“Sir, this method of transport will allow us to recover the equipment that we’ve scavenged.” Bulloch let out a sigh. “But it’s not safe for bio-transport. After scanning an object with our tricorders and then transmitting that pattern to Samaritan’s transporter buffer, the scan is half a minute old. Since we’re only transporting inanimate objects, nothing in the pattern has changed between the scan and the actual transport. However, living beings breathe, pump blood, and have a constantly changing transporter pattern. Simply by shifting weight from one foot to another in between the tricorder scan and the transport, a person could materialize with half of their blood vessels out of alignment. I’ve run through the numbers. There’s less than a fifteen percent chance for a successful bio-transport.”
“Ensign Bulloch, I’m going to need my Chief Engineer back aboard to finish these repairs,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
“I can’t see how that’s going to be possible, sir. You have surgeons aboard. They put bodies back together. I’m sure that I’ll be able to talk them through putting the ship back together. Besides, my team and I aren’t going anywhere. Starfleet can send someone for us after Samaritan makes it home,” Bulloch said from the surface, miles beneath the Samaritan, but his voice sounded even more distant. The grave reality of his words was carried in his tone of voice.
“What about Doctor Flores and Ensign Parker?,” Kingsley asked him. “We still don’t know where they are, if they need help.”
“Samaritan’s safety should be our chief concern, and that safety can’t be assured until the ship is back in Federation space,” Bulloch replied.
Ra-Gorvalei deactivated his combadge and turned towards Kingsley. “He’s right, sir.” Kingsley looked at the Efrosian for a moment before nodding.
Ra-Gorvalei opened the channel again. “Mister Bulloch, carry out your plan. We haven’t given up yet on recovering your team ourselves, but repairing the Samaritan is priority number one.” Before closing the channel, the XO added,” If we must leave you here, I trust that you’ll make the best decisions for your team.”
I understand. Thank you, sir. Bulloch out.”
* * * *
“Did I hear you right?”
A cold voice came from behind Bulloch, causing him to jump. He looked back and forth. The sun was getting low in the sky. The shadow of the assault ship was growing longer on the plain. Part of the shadow began to move and he realized that it wasn’t a shadow at all.
“Eskol, you scared me. How long have you been standing behind me?”
“Long enough to hear that Samaritan is going to leave us here.”
“I’m sorry, but there really isn’t any way to get back to the ship.”
“I cannot stay on this planet, Ensign. It is imperative that I’m not left here.”
“None of us want to stay here, but we have no choice at the moment.”
Eskol’s face grew bright red. He grabbed the engineer by the front of his uniform jacket. “You have no idea what’s at stake! I cannot stay on this planet! I will be found before my task is done!”
Bulloch pushed him away. “There isn’t anything I can do!”
Eskol took a deep breath and allowed his complexion to turn to the same flesh tone as Bulloch’s. “I apologize.”
“It’s all right. Just calm down. I want to get off this planet as much as you do, but I can’t see any way to do that, right now.”
Eskol sat down on a large rock. He seemed tired and deflated. “My mission has endangered your ship and claimed the life of one of its crew.”
“Why is the Dominion chasing after you? What is your mission?”
“To right a wrong. To do no more harm. I thought I was finally outrunning my enemies, and that I would, at last, be able to complete my task.”
“The Dominion doesn’t know that we’re here. You won’t be found.”
“He will find me,” the Nelvian muttered. He looked Bulloch in the eye. “Perhaps I was being too much like a Human, incredibly optimistic, and wholly unrealistic. I am walking the road to Hell.”
“Then, at least, your intentions are good.”
“Do you really believe that?,” Eskol asked.
“Something has been eating at you since we met. I don’t think doing the wrong thing is ever that hard on a person.”
Half a smile crossed Eskol’s face. “I’ll have to tell that to the Devil, the next time that I see him.”
* * * *
The sun touched the horizon and looked as if it was sinking into the sea. Its orange reflection stretched out, touching the raft. Jared put his uniform jacket back on. “It’s cooling down.”
“Yeah,” Krissy replied, and that was about all that she had said since she had told him about Jacob. Her fiancé's death was like a disease for conversations. Once it was mentioned, the talking just died out. She had only told two people about Jacob, Jared, and Sovek. At least with Sovek, she could leave the room, but here in the raft, she couldn’t run away and hide.
Jared grunted and shifted the position of his shirt.
“Your sunburn?,” she asked him.
“It’s not bad. I should have listened to you,” he replied. After a moment, he added,” I’m sorry, Flores.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Krissy said, forcing a brief smile. “You’ll just have to live with your sunburn.”
“I meant about the other day when I hollered at you for pushing by me. With all that you were going through, I shouldn’t have gotten angry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have known that something was wrong. I should’ve treated you like a friend. Like you treated me.”
“What are you talking about? Every time that I see you, I end up asking you for something.”
“Not every time,” he said. “The day that we left the Badlands, just before I went to the shuttle bay to face the Jem’Hadar with Eskol, you didn’t ask me for anything then. You wished me luck, and that meant more to me than you can know. I was scared that day, but knowing that there was someone counting on me… Knowing that you were rooting for me, I wasn’t so scared after that.”
Krissy wiped a tear from her eye. She wasn’t sure if it was one of joy or sorrow. She looked out across the water, only a small part of the sun peaked out above the horizon. “I’ve never seen a sunset like this. It’s beautiful.”
“You’ve never watched a sunset back home?,” Jared asked her.
“Never like this, on the water. Amanecer doesn’t have any large bodies of water on the surface. We have plenty of underground lakes, but I’ve never seen the sunlight dancing on the waves.”
“I’ve never seen a more stunning sunset,” Jared agreed, but it wasn’t because of the reflections of light off of the water.
Krissy turned back to him. “It’s been a long time. Do you think they’ll find us?”
“The sensors are a little out of whack because of the kelbonite. Give them time,” Jared assured her, but he wasn’t as confident as he sounded.
* * * *
“We have little time to find the lost crew members,” Sovek said as he approached Lieutenant Commander Kingsley.
“Excuse me?,” he said, unprepared for the statement.
Sovek held up a PADD. “I have done a climate study on the planet. If Doctor Flores and Ensign Parker did land in the search area that Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei determined, the temperature will drop below Human tolerances. It is nearly nighttime in the search area. With the clothing that we know them to have been wearing, I estimate that both of them will be dead approximately six hours after sunset.”
Kingsley looked over the PADD. “Six hours? I’m not sure if that will be enough time.”
“There is a related matter that I would also like to address, sir. With Doctor Flores lost, there is no one attending to her patients. With the help that you have given me, I am certain that I can control my emotions. I am prepared to resume my regular duties.”
Kingsley nodded. “Yes, please attend to Doctor Flores’ patients, except for Chief Shaw. I’ll attend to him myself.”
Sovek bowed his head slightly. “As you wish.”
* * * *
Shaw heard steps near his bed. “Doctor Flores?,” he asked.
“No, it’s Lieutenant Commander Kingsley, Chief.”
“Did the away team find the Ketracel White? Are we going to start this treatment soon?”
Kingsley sighed. “I’m afraid that I have some bad news, Chief. Doctor Flores was in a runabout accident, along with the only vial of Ketracel White that the away team found.”
“What happened?”
“We’re not sure. We received a distress call and we located the stardrive section of the runabout. So, we know that the command module was successfully ejected but we don’t know where it is.” Kingsley leaned against the Chief’s biobed and stared down at the deck. “We can’t send the other runabout down to look for them because it’s missing a pod or something.”
“Probably the antimatter pod.”
“That was it. We can’t even recover the engineering team, and we know right where they are.”
“Then I guess I’m stuck this way.” Shaw sighed. Both men were quiet for a moment. Then the Chief suddenly straightened up. He looked more alert. “Who was piloting the runabout?”
“Ensign Parker. A terrible loss.”
“Flying is the only thing that kid takes seriously. He wouldn’t panic in a bind. He would remember his procedures, and isolate the antimatter,” Shaw said, thinking out loud. “Sir, did the stardrive section explode?”
“I don’t know. We’re not sure what caused the crash.”
“No, I mean when it impacted with the ground. Is it pretty much intact or is there a massive crater where it hit?” For the first time since the Chief found out that he was blind, he was seeing things clearly.
“I saw a visual scan. It crashed in a wooded area. It knocked over some trees but there wasn’t any crater that I could see. Why?”
“Skipper, I think we’ve just found a spare antimatter pod.”
* * * *
“Chief Shaw thinks that we can use the antimatter from the crashed runabout to power our good one,” Kingsley said, standing on the Bridge with Ra-Gorvalei and Burns.
“How are we supposed to get the McCoy’s pod?,” Burns asked.
“We land the Phlox next to the crash site,” Ra-Gorvalei said, guessing the rest of the plan. Kingsley nodded.
“The Phlox’s main reactor is offline. We can’t land it on a planet,” Burns protested. “That’s completely against procedure. Regulations clearly state that planetary landings without main power are only to be attempted in emergencies.”
“Our people need our help,” Kingsley said. “This is an emergency, Mister Burns.”
“Your concerns will be noted in my log, Lieutenant. Start prepping the Phlox. We’ll leave as soon as possible,” Ra-Gorvalei commanded.
“Mister Ra-Gorvalei, I only want one of you to go. We’re running short of Starfleet personnel. For some reason, if the other runabout can’t get off of the planet, I cannot run this ship alone,” Kingsley interjected.
“Very well, sir. Mister Burns, you will go alone.”
“But, sir…,” Burns said meekly, looking down at his feet. “Sir, the landing zone is in a wooded area on uneven ground. Without main power, there is little room for error. I’m not sure I can do this.”
Ra-Gorvalei gave him a piercing stare. “You are the best pilot left aboard this ship, but if you have no confidence in yourself, then I will not put the confidence of this ship in you.” The XO turned towards the CO. “I’ve been meaning to knock some of the rust off of my piloting skills. I’ll pilot the runabout.”
Burns straightened his stance and inhaled deeply as if summoning up some internal strength. “That won’t be necessary, sir. I am the Samaritan’s lead helmsman, and I can pilot the Phlox.”
Ra-Gorvalei grasped his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “Yes, you can.”
* * * *
“It feels good,” Krissy said, lying on the other side of the raft. “It reminds me of home. I missed being in the sun.”
Jared sat up and unzipped his black and gray uniform jacket. He wrestled himself out of the wet garment and threw it aside.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m hot,” Jared said, removing the long-sleeved red shirt that he wore underneath.
“You’ll burn,” Krissy protested. “You have to keep your skin covered.”
“At least, I won’t be hot.” He lay back down and sighed in relief as the breeze cooled his bare skin.
“You’re impossible,” Krissy huffed at him. “I’m trying to help you. I am a doctor.”
“Maybe I’ll let you treat my sunburn,” Jared replied without looking up. He paused for a moment before adding,” On second thought, never mind. I don’t need you doing me any favors.”
“Is that what this is about?,” Krissy asked. She looked down and stared at the yellow raft bottom. “What did I ever do that was so wrong?”
Jared opened his eyes and looked at the woman across from him. “I was wrong about that. I tried to tell you.” He sat up. Krissy looked up and the two of them locked their eyes for a moment before both of them averted their gaze towards the floor of the raft. He added quietly. “I tried to apologize, but you didn’t care. You brushed me aside and you wouldn’t even hear me out.”
“It wasn’t you, Jared,” she said, rubbing the corner of her eye to wipe away tears before they formed. “It’s Jacob…” The name was almost choked off as her throat tightened. She fought to keep control, but she knew that she would burst into tears at any moment.
Ensign Parker stared at the bottom of the raft. He didn’t see her face reddening in her struggle to control her emotions. He didn’t even see the yellow of the raft. All that he saw was Krissy wrapping her arms around Jacob Muller’s neck on the shuttle bay of the Pegasus. He remembered how betrayed he had felt and it made him angry.
“Your fiancé doesn’t want you talking to me?” He looked up when he heard sobs.
Krissy raised her head, tears streaming down her face. “The Pegasus was destroyed. Jacob is dead.”
* * * *
“I’ve input the scan into the transporter buffer,” Ra-Gorvalei told Kingsley. They were standing in front of the transporter panel in Sickbay. “Energizing.”
The Efrosian activated the transporter. A shimmering light appeared on the deck, not far from either officer. When the light died out, there was a Jem’Hadar disruptor pistol in its place. The XO picked up the weapon and tapped his combadge. “Ra-Gorvalei to Bulloch. Transport complete. We have the disruptor.”
“Is it functional?,” Bulloch asked over their combadges.
Ra-Gorvalei pressed a button on the transporter panel, activating the force field that they had rigged on their escape from the Badlands. He raised the disruptor and fired it into the field. Kingsley jumped as a blue beam lashed out from the pistol and the force field sizzled as it absorbed the energy.
“It works.”
“We’ll begin scanning the rest of the weapons and equipment for transport immediately.”
“Excellent,” Kingsley said, smiling. “Then you and your team can scan yourselves and get back to the ship.”
“Sir, this method of transport will allow us to recover the equipment that we’ve scavenged.” Bulloch let out a sigh. “But it’s not safe for bio-transport. After scanning an object with our tricorders and then transmitting that pattern to Samaritan’s transporter buffer, the scan is half a minute old. Since we’re only transporting inanimate objects, nothing in the pattern has changed between the scan and the actual transport. However, living beings breathe, pump blood, and have a constantly changing transporter pattern. Simply by shifting weight from one foot to another in between the tricorder scan and the transport, a person could materialize with half of their blood vessels out of alignment. I’ve run through the numbers. There’s less than a fifteen percent chance for a successful bio-transport.”
“Ensign Bulloch, I’m going to need my Chief Engineer back aboard to finish these repairs,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
“I can’t see how that’s going to be possible, sir. You have surgeons aboard. They put bodies back together. I’m sure that I’ll be able to talk them through putting the ship back together. Besides, my team and I aren’t going anywhere. Starfleet can send someone for us after Samaritan makes it home,” Bulloch said from the surface, miles beneath the Samaritan, but his voice sounded even more distant. The grave reality of his words was carried in his tone of voice.
“What about Doctor Flores and Ensign Parker?,” Kingsley asked him. “We still don’t know where they are, if they need help.”
“Samaritan’s safety should be our chief concern, and that safety can’t be assured until the ship is back in Federation space,” Bulloch replied.
Ra-Gorvalei deactivated his combadge and turned towards Kingsley. “He’s right, sir.” Kingsley looked at the Efrosian for a moment before nodding.
Ra-Gorvalei opened the channel again. “Mister Bulloch, carry out your plan. We haven’t given up yet on recovering your team ourselves, but repairing the Samaritan is priority number one.” Before closing the channel, the XO added,” If we must leave you here, I trust that you’ll make the best decisions for your team.”
I understand. Thank you, sir. Bulloch out.”
* * * *
“Did I hear you right?”
A cold voice came from behind Bulloch, causing him to jump. He looked back and forth. The sun was getting low in the sky. The shadow of the assault ship was growing longer on the plain. Part of the shadow began to move and he realized that it wasn’t a shadow at all.
“Eskol, you scared me. How long have you been standing behind me?”
“Long enough to hear that Samaritan is going to leave us here.”
“I’m sorry, but there really isn’t any way to get back to the ship.”
“I cannot stay on this planet, Ensign. It is imperative that I’m not left here.”
“None of us want to stay here, but we have no choice at the moment.”
Eskol’s face grew bright red. He grabbed the engineer by the front of his uniform jacket. “You have no idea what’s at stake! I cannot stay on this planet! I will be found before my task is done!”
Bulloch pushed him away. “There isn’t anything I can do!”
Eskol took a deep breath and allowed his complexion to turn to the same flesh tone as Bulloch’s. “I apologize.”
“It’s all right. Just calm down. I want to get off this planet as much as you do, but I can’t see any way to do that, right now.”
Eskol sat down on a large rock. He seemed tired and deflated. “My mission has endangered your ship and claimed the life of one of its crew.”
“Why is the Dominion chasing after you? What is your mission?”
“To right a wrong. To do no more harm. I thought I was finally outrunning my enemies, and that I would, at last, be able to complete my task.”
“The Dominion doesn’t know that we’re here. You won’t be found.”
“He will find me,” the Nelvian muttered. He looked Bulloch in the eye. “Perhaps I was being too much like a Human, incredibly optimistic, and wholly unrealistic. I am walking the road to Hell.”
“Then, at least, your intentions are good.”
“Do you really believe that?,” Eskol asked.
“Something has been eating at you since we met. I don’t think doing the wrong thing is ever that hard on a person.”
Half a smile crossed Eskol’s face. “I’ll have to tell that to the Devil, the next time that I see him.”
* * * *
The sun touched the horizon and looked as if it was sinking into the sea. Its orange reflection stretched out, touching the raft. Jared put his uniform jacket back on. “It’s cooling down.”
“Yeah,” Krissy replied, and that was about all that she had said since she had told him about Jacob. Her fiancé's death was like a disease for conversations. Once it was mentioned, the talking just died out. She had only told two people about Jacob, Jared, and Sovek. At least with Sovek, she could leave the room, but here in the raft, she couldn’t run away and hide.
Jared grunted and shifted the position of his shirt.
“Your sunburn?,” she asked him.
“It’s not bad. I should have listened to you,” he replied. After a moment, he added,” I’m sorry, Flores.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Krissy said, forcing a brief smile. “You’ll just have to live with your sunburn.”
“I meant about the other day when I hollered at you for pushing by me. With all that you were going through, I shouldn’t have gotten angry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have known that something was wrong. I should’ve treated you like a friend. Like you treated me.”
“What are you talking about? Every time that I see you, I end up asking you for something.”
“Not every time,” he said. “The day that we left the Badlands, just before I went to the shuttle bay to face the Jem’Hadar with Eskol, you didn’t ask me for anything then. You wished me luck, and that meant more to me than you can know. I was scared that day, but knowing that there was someone counting on me… Knowing that you were rooting for me, I wasn’t so scared after that.”
Krissy wiped a tear from her eye. She wasn’t sure if it was one of joy or sorrow. She looked out across the water, only a small part of the sun peaked out above the horizon. “I’ve never seen a sunset like this. It’s beautiful.”
“You’ve never watched a sunset back home?,” Jared asked her.
“Never like this, on the water. Amanecer doesn’t have any large bodies of water on the surface. We have plenty of underground lakes, but I’ve never seen the sunlight dancing on the waves.”
“I’ve never seen a more stunning sunset,” Jared agreed, but it wasn’t because of the reflections of light off of the water.
Krissy turned back to him. “It’s been a long time. Do you think they’ll find us?”
“The sensors are a little out of whack because of the kelbonite. Give them time,” Jared assured her, but he wasn’t as confident as he sounded.
* * * *
“We have little time to find the lost crew members,” Sovek said as he approached Lieutenant Commander Kingsley.
“Excuse me?,” he said, unprepared for the statement.
Sovek held up a PADD. “I have done a climate study on the planet. If Doctor Flores and Ensign Parker did land in the search area that Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei determined, the temperature will drop below Human tolerances. It is nearly nighttime in the search area. With the clothing that we know them to have been wearing, I estimate that both of them will be dead approximately six hours after sunset.”
Kingsley looked over the PADD. “Six hours? I’m not sure if that will be enough time.”
“There is a related matter that I would also like to address, sir. With Doctor Flores lost, there is no one attending to her patients. With the help that you have given me, I am certain that I can control my emotions. I am prepared to resume my regular duties.”
Kingsley nodded. “Yes, please attend to Doctor Flores’ patients, except for Chief Shaw. I’ll attend to him myself.”
Sovek bowed his head slightly. “As you wish.”
* * * *
Shaw heard steps near his bed. “Doctor Flores?,” he asked.
“No, it’s Lieutenant Commander Kingsley, Chief.”
“Did the away team find the Ketracel White? Are we going to start this treatment soon?”
Kingsley sighed. “I’m afraid that I have some bad news, Chief. Doctor Flores was in a runabout accident, along with the only vial of Ketracel White that the away team found.”
“What happened?”
“We’re not sure. We received a distress call and we located the stardrive section of the runabout. So, we know that the command module was successfully ejected but we don’t know where it is.” Kingsley leaned against the Chief’s biobed and stared down at the deck. “We can’t send the other runabout down to look for them because it’s missing a pod or something.”
“Probably the antimatter pod.”
“That was it. We can’t even recover the engineering team, and we know right where they are.”
“Then I guess I’m stuck this way.” Shaw sighed. Both men were quiet for a moment. Then the Chief suddenly straightened up. He looked more alert. “Who was piloting the runabout?”
“Ensign Parker. A terrible loss.”
“Flying is the only thing that kid takes seriously. He wouldn’t panic in a bind. He would remember his procedures, and isolate the antimatter,” Shaw said, thinking out loud. “Sir, did the stardrive section explode?”
“I don’t know. We’re not sure what caused the crash.”
“No, I mean when it impacted with the ground. Is it pretty much intact or is there a massive crater where it hit?” For the first time since the Chief found out that he was blind, he was seeing things clearly.
“I saw a visual scan. It crashed in a wooded area. It knocked over some trees but there wasn’t any crater that I could see. Why?”
“Skipper, I think we’ve just found a spare antimatter pod.”
* * * *
“Chief Shaw thinks that we can use the antimatter from the crashed runabout to power our good one,” Kingsley said, standing on the Bridge with Ra-Gorvalei and Burns.
“How are we supposed to get the McCoy’s pod?,” Burns asked.
“We land the Phlox next to the crash site,” Ra-Gorvalei said, guessing the rest of the plan. Kingsley nodded.
“The Phlox’s main reactor is offline. We can’t land it on a planet,” Burns protested. “That’s completely against procedure. Regulations clearly state that planetary landings without main power are only to be attempted in emergencies.”
“Our people need our help,” Kingsley said. “This is an emergency, Mister Burns.”
“Your concerns will be noted in my log, Lieutenant. Start prepping the Phlox. We’ll leave as soon as possible,” Ra-Gorvalei commanded.
“Mister Ra-Gorvalei, I only want one of you to go. We’re running short of Starfleet personnel. For some reason, if the other runabout can’t get off of the planet, I cannot run this ship alone,” Kingsley interjected.
“Very well, sir. Mister Burns, you will go alone.”
“But, sir…,” Burns said meekly, looking down at his feet. “Sir, the landing zone is in a wooded area on uneven ground. Without main power, there is little room for error. I’m not sure I can do this.”
Ra-Gorvalei gave him a piercing stare. “You are the best pilot left aboard this ship, but if you have no confidence in yourself, then I will not put the confidence of this ship in you.” The XO turned towards the CO. “I’ve been meaning to knock some of the rust off of my piloting skills. I’ll pilot the runabout.”
Burns straightened his stance and inhaled deeply as if summoning up some internal strength. “That won’t be necessary, sir. I am the Samaritan’s lead helmsman, and I can pilot the Phlox.”
Ra-Gorvalei grasped his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “Yes, you can.”
* * * *
“The sky looks so empty.” Krissy’s voice spoke when she spoke. The temperature had dropped quite quickly after nightfall.
“Half of it is because of the moons. The light that they reflect from the sun drowns out the dimmer stars,” Jared said, extending one arm and pointing towards two white globes hanging in the sky above them. As soon as she looked, he quickly pulled his arm back to his body, hugging himself for warmth. “And half of it is because of the planet’s atmosphere. The gasses bend the light, and it makes some stars harder to see.”
Krissy shook her head. “I’ve become spoiled. The Samaritan is the first ship that I’ve ever been on, besides the shuttle that brought me there. I had never been in space before. I remember how incredible the stars looked when I first came aboard. And now that I’ve grown used to it, the stars from anywhere will never be so brilliant.”
“At Starfleet Academy, we had these training shuttles. I used to love flying them. I’d try and get scheduled for flight time, every chance that I got. Then, on a training cruise, the summer after my third year, I got to sit at the helm of the USS Crazy Horse. It was incredible, being at the controls of something that big. When I got back to the Academy, the training shuttles were never as fun, and nothing but the helm of a starship would do.” Jared found himself thinking about the Pegasus. “You can’t go home again, isn’t that what they say?”
The words hit Flores like a sack of bricks. “I suppose so.”
“Hey, Krissy,” Jared’s voice took on a tone of concern,” do people ever hallucinate when they get too cold?”
“Why?,” she asked him. “What are you seeing?”
“It’s the water. I thought that it was just reflected moonlight, but I don’t know. It looks like the tops of the waves are glowing themselves.”
Krissy looked at the sea. He was right. The surface was moving in small waves, and every crest produced a dim blue glow. She reached over the edge of the raft and ran her forefinger through the water. The small wake that it produced glowed blue for a moment before subsiding.
“It’s algae,” she said. “It’s phosphorescent algae. It gives off light when it’s disturbed.”
“Ah!,” Jared yelped. Krissy reeled around to see what was wrong. He had dipped his own fingers into the water to make the algae glow. “That water is really cold,” he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling sheepishly.
“It’s been a long time, Jared. Are they ever going to come with us?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted,” but I’m sure that they’re trying everything they can.”
* * * *
“That’s the last of it, sir,” Crewman Mazik reported after the last transport of equipment and parts was complete.
“Good job, Mazik,” Bulloch said.
“There is one more transport left,” Eskol said, walking up to the chief engineer. “I want you to beam me up to the Samaritan.”
“What?!,” Bulloch said in disbelief. “No, Eskol, I wouldn’t allow it. There’s only a one in ten chance that you would materialize alive.”
“I’m willing to take that chance. My mission never had a high probability of success, but if I stop moving, I’ll be found.”
“Eskol, you don’t need to do this…”
Eskol cut him off. “Yes, I do. The very soul of the Federation is at stake.”
“No, you don’t understand. We’re going back to the ship and we don’t need to use the transporter.”
Hudson and the members of the engineering team standing nearby witness a very rare occurrence. A confused look came over Eskol’s face. “How?,” he asked.
* * * *
Lieutenant Carson Burns felt slightly nauseated. It might have been from how nervous he was, or it might have been because the inertial dampeners were operating on partial power, allowing him to feel some of the g-forces that the runabout was experiencing. The rate of descent was critical in the maneuver that he was attempting. Without main power, the repulsor lifts could only match the planet’s gravity, not overcome it. That meant that he couldn’t regain any lost altitude. Another major consideration was the runabout’s glide slope, the angle with the ground at which the craft approached the landing zone. Having the slope off by several degrees would put him miles away from the McCoy’s stardrive section.
The landing zone itself was less than ideal. There were no clearings nearby. He and Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei had discussed trying to cut a hole in the foliage with the runabout’s phasers, but the risk of starting a fire and landing the Phlox in the middle of it was too great. Instead, Burns would use the mass of the runabout to level out the trees as he landed.
Burns checked his descent rate again, and his glide slope before looking out the forward window. He saw the crash site and he saw the trees where he wanted to put the Phlox down. He kept scanning in that order: descent rate, glide slope, and the trees. His heart started pounding fast and his nausea increased as the trees became larger in the window.
Descent rate, glide slope, trees.
He was coming down a little fast so he slowed down his descent.
Descent rate, glide slope, trees.
The runabout was coming down above the glide slope due to the slow descent. He tried to compensate.
Descent rate, glide slope, trees.
Trees!
Burns braced himself as the Phlox plowed into the treetops. Trunks splintered as the weight of the small craft crushed the obstacles. The cockpit shuttered and rocked before everything was still. More or less, the Phlox was on the ground. The cockpit listed to the left. The runabout had come to rest on the slope of a small hill as well as a good portion of knocked-over forest.
“Burns to Samaritan. I’m on the ground.” He scanned his instruments. “Phlox is intact and operational. I’m about half a mile from the crash site.”
“Good job, Mister Burns. Contact Ensign Bulloch once you’ve reached the McCoy. He’ll talk you through recovering the antimatter pod.”
* * * *
Krissy looked at Jared. Even though it was slightly sunburned, his skin was looking noticeably pale. Both of them were shivering. It was obvious that hypothermia would set in soon.
“I never thought it would end up like this,” she said.
“You have to hang on, Flores. IF there’s a way, they’ll come for us.” Jared hoped that he was right.
“I don’t just mean, being here in this raft. Being on the Samaritan, I thought that it would be different. I thought it would be more like a regular hospital. I never thought that we’d get so close to the war.”
“I never thought that I’d be so far from it. I didn’t think I’d end up on a hospital ship. I always thought that I’d be assigned to a ship on the frontlines. On a ship where my piloting skills would make a difference in battle. I was so jealous of all of those convoys that we took on patients from. I hated watching them warp away, leaving me behind.”
“The last convoy that we met, that was the last time that I saw Jacob.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up any painful memories.”
“It’s all right. I like thinking about that day, but he had to leave, go off and fight. I volunteered to serve on the Samaritan because I knew that I would have to leave home eventually to be with him. And I thought that it would somehow keep us closer to each other. I’m so glad that I got to see him one last time, but it was so hard watching him leave. It was like the best day and the worst day at the same time. Does that make any sense?”
“I know exactly how you feel. That day, I had never felt closer to the only good thing about Samaritan, but that’s also the day that I lost it.”
“That same day? What did you lose?”
Jared shifted uncomfortably, wishing that he hadn’t said anything.
“What is it, Jared?,” Krissy asked him.
“You,” he said. “I thought you wanted to ride in the runabout that day because of me. When I met Jacob, I… I don’t know… I knew it wasn’t meant to be. So, I guess I started pushing you away…”
“I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I should have told you that I was engaged.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I suspected,” she said quietly. It was quiet again, save for the lapping sound of the water against the raft.
Although they sat on opposite sides of the raft, Jared felt as if they were light years apart. He feared that he had just thrown away the friendship that he and Flores had just repaired.
“You know,” Krissy said after a long silence,” it’s pretty cold. We should probably huddle together. Conserve our body heat.”
“Okay,” he replied. They moved towards each other. Krissy put her arms around Jared’s waist and pressed her body against his. He hesitantly put his arms around her. He had wanted to embrace her like this so many times, but he never pictured it like this.
* * * *
“Any news?,” Kingsley asked, walking onto the Bridge.
“Mister Burns has installed the antimatter pod and he is currently picking up the engineering team,” Ra-Gorvalei reported. “Mister Bulloch says that the Phlox will need a new coat of paint.”
“How long will it take them to search the crash area?”
“Approximately ten hours.”
“Our most hopeful medical estimates give Doctor Flores and Ensign Parker three hours.”
* * * *
Krissy felt Jared shift in her arms. “Is your sunburn bothering you?”
“It’s not really that bad,” he said,” but I do wish I had a tan like yours. I wouldn’t have to worry about getting burned.”
“Maybe,” Krissy said softly.
“If they find us, and we make it back to the Federation, are you going to stay aboard Samaritan, or will you go home?”
“It’s been months since I left. I can’t go home.”
“What’s keeping you?,” Jared asked.
“On Amanecer, it’s illegal to go out into the sun unsupervised until you’re sixteen.”
“Why not?”
“Because it takes sixteen years of controlled exposure to our sun to build up a natural resistance to its effects. It only takes a few months to lose that resistance. My tan has faded too much and my skin won’t protect me anymore. I gave that up for Jacob. I’ve lost everything. I’m alone.”
Jared pulled her as close to him as he could. “You’re not alone.”
Krissy held onto him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. They had shared their secrets with a recklessness that only those uncertain of their survival process. Though she had never been in so much danger, she felt safe as that night, the night stranded at sea, the night swimming with the things that they had always left unsaid, and the night that she shared her burden.
Jared grimaced slightly and shifted in her arms again. “I’m sorry. It feels like something is poking me, I think. I’m pretty numb.”
Krissy reached into her cold, damp pocket and pulled out a vial. “It’s the Ketracel White.”
“It’s glowing,” Jared said. There were splotches of bright blue light on the capped end of the vial.
“It’s the algae,” she said. “Ketracel enhances most bio-functions. That’s why the algae is glowing so brightly.”
“Krissy, I have an idea. Give me the vial.”
She thought of Chief Shaw. The Ketracel White in the vial was his only hope for regaining his natural sight. She put the vial in his hand with some reluctance.
Jared took the vial and pulled off the cap. He braced himself for the shock of the cold before dropping the fluid into the water. He shook it around to get as much of the drug out as possible. It diffused into the water quickly. Soon a brilliant blue glowing cloud grew off one side of the raft. Jared pulled his hand out of the water. It was completely numb and glowing as bright as the water.
“Sorry, Chief,” Krissy said as she watched Chief Shaw’s only hope for regaining his natural sight dissolved into her and Jared’s only hope for survival.
* * * *
“It’s been hours and there’s still no sign of them,” Burns said as he flew the Phlox in a search pattern over the crash area.
“Then we’ll keep searching,” Bulloch replied from the copilot’s seat.
“I don’t think we’re going to find them. Not alive anyway.”
“Then we’ll search until we find their bodies,” Bulloch said. “Damnit!,” he cursed, hitting his console. “The sensors are nearly useless. There must be kelbonite dissolved in the water.”
“What’s that?,” Burns asked, pointing out the forward window.
Bulloch looked up. “It’s a light,” he said. “It’s a light on an uninhabited planet. It has to be them!”
The Phlox arrived at the light quickly. Burns brought the runabout into a hover, a hundred feet above the raft. Which was close enough to trust Jared’s and Krissy’s lives to the transporters. They materialized on the deck of the cockpit, unconscious and embracing each other. Bulloch covered them in a large blanket and began rubbing them, trying to warm them up.
“Burns to Samaritan. We’ve found them. Have a medical team standing by,” the helmsman called over his combadge as he turned the runabout towards the stars.
Jared opened his eyes, looking around before smiling. “Hey, JG,” he said weakly. “I thought that flying runabouts was my job. Do you need me to take over the helm?”
“Don’t worry about it, Ensign,” Burns replied with uncharacteristically good humor. “You can take my next Bridge watch.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Jared said to his superior officer with a respectful tone for the first time.
Krissy stirred a little before raising her head. “Where am I?,” she asked.
“With friends,” Jared answered.
* * * *
“Half of it is because of the moons. The light that they reflect from the sun drowns out the dimmer stars,” Jared said, extending one arm and pointing towards two white globes hanging in the sky above them. As soon as she looked, he quickly pulled his arm back to his body, hugging himself for warmth. “And half of it is because of the planet’s atmosphere. The gasses bend the light, and it makes some stars harder to see.”
Krissy shook her head. “I’ve become spoiled. The Samaritan is the first ship that I’ve ever been on, besides the shuttle that brought me there. I had never been in space before. I remember how incredible the stars looked when I first came aboard. And now that I’ve grown used to it, the stars from anywhere will never be so brilliant.”
“At Starfleet Academy, we had these training shuttles. I used to love flying them. I’d try and get scheduled for flight time, every chance that I got. Then, on a training cruise, the summer after my third year, I got to sit at the helm of the USS Crazy Horse. It was incredible, being at the controls of something that big. When I got back to the Academy, the training shuttles were never as fun, and nothing but the helm of a starship would do.” Jared found himself thinking about the Pegasus. “You can’t go home again, isn’t that what they say?”
The words hit Flores like a sack of bricks. “I suppose so.”
“Hey, Krissy,” Jared’s voice took on a tone of concern,” do people ever hallucinate when they get too cold?”
“Why?,” she asked him. “What are you seeing?”
“It’s the water. I thought that it was just reflected moonlight, but I don’t know. It looks like the tops of the waves are glowing themselves.”
Krissy looked at the sea. He was right. The surface was moving in small waves, and every crest produced a dim blue glow. She reached over the edge of the raft and ran her forefinger through the water. The small wake that it produced glowed blue for a moment before subsiding.
“It’s algae,” she said. “It’s phosphorescent algae. It gives off light when it’s disturbed.”
“Ah!,” Jared yelped. Krissy reeled around to see what was wrong. He had dipped his own fingers into the water to make the algae glow. “That water is really cold,” he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling sheepishly.
“It’s been a long time, Jared. Are they ever going to come with us?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted,” but I’m sure that they’re trying everything they can.”
* * * *
“That’s the last of it, sir,” Crewman Mazik reported after the last transport of equipment and parts was complete.
“Good job, Mazik,” Bulloch said.
“There is one more transport left,” Eskol said, walking up to the chief engineer. “I want you to beam me up to the Samaritan.”
“What?!,” Bulloch said in disbelief. “No, Eskol, I wouldn’t allow it. There’s only a one in ten chance that you would materialize alive.”
“I’m willing to take that chance. My mission never had a high probability of success, but if I stop moving, I’ll be found.”
“Eskol, you don’t need to do this…”
Eskol cut him off. “Yes, I do. The very soul of the Federation is at stake.”
“No, you don’t understand. We’re going back to the ship and we don’t need to use the transporter.”
Hudson and the members of the engineering team standing nearby witness a very rare occurrence. A confused look came over Eskol’s face. “How?,” he asked.
* * * *
Lieutenant Carson Burns felt slightly nauseated. It might have been from how nervous he was, or it might have been because the inertial dampeners were operating on partial power, allowing him to feel some of the g-forces that the runabout was experiencing. The rate of descent was critical in the maneuver that he was attempting. Without main power, the repulsor lifts could only match the planet’s gravity, not overcome it. That meant that he couldn’t regain any lost altitude. Another major consideration was the runabout’s glide slope, the angle with the ground at which the craft approached the landing zone. Having the slope off by several degrees would put him miles away from the McCoy’s stardrive section.
The landing zone itself was less than ideal. There were no clearings nearby. He and Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei had discussed trying to cut a hole in the foliage with the runabout’s phasers, but the risk of starting a fire and landing the Phlox in the middle of it was too great. Instead, Burns would use the mass of the runabout to level out the trees as he landed.
Burns checked his descent rate again, and his glide slope before looking out the forward window. He saw the crash site and he saw the trees where he wanted to put the Phlox down. He kept scanning in that order: descent rate, glide slope, and the trees. His heart started pounding fast and his nausea increased as the trees became larger in the window.
Descent rate, glide slope, trees.
He was coming down a little fast so he slowed down his descent.
Descent rate, glide slope, trees.
The runabout was coming down above the glide slope due to the slow descent. He tried to compensate.
Descent rate, glide slope, trees.
Trees!
Burns braced himself as the Phlox plowed into the treetops. Trunks splintered as the weight of the small craft crushed the obstacles. The cockpit shuttered and rocked before everything was still. More or less, the Phlox was on the ground. The cockpit listed to the left. The runabout had come to rest on the slope of a small hill as well as a good portion of knocked-over forest.
“Burns to Samaritan. I’m on the ground.” He scanned his instruments. “Phlox is intact and operational. I’m about half a mile from the crash site.”
“Good job, Mister Burns. Contact Ensign Bulloch once you’ve reached the McCoy. He’ll talk you through recovering the antimatter pod.”
* * * *
Krissy looked at Jared. Even though it was slightly sunburned, his skin was looking noticeably pale. Both of them were shivering. It was obvious that hypothermia would set in soon.
“I never thought it would end up like this,” she said.
“You have to hang on, Flores. IF there’s a way, they’ll come for us.” Jared hoped that he was right.
“I don’t just mean, being here in this raft. Being on the Samaritan, I thought that it would be different. I thought it would be more like a regular hospital. I never thought that we’d get so close to the war.”
“I never thought that I’d be so far from it. I didn’t think I’d end up on a hospital ship. I always thought that I’d be assigned to a ship on the frontlines. On a ship where my piloting skills would make a difference in battle. I was so jealous of all of those convoys that we took on patients from. I hated watching them warp away, leaving me behind.”
“The last convoy that we met, that was the last time that I saw Jacob.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up any painful memories.”
“It’s all right. I like thinking about that day, but he had to leave, go off and fight. I volunteered to serve on the Samaritan because I knew that I would have to leave home eventually to be with him. And I thought that it would somehow keep us closer to each other. I’m so glad that I got to see him one last time, but it was so hard watching him leave. It was like the best day and the worst day at the same time. Does that make any sense?”
“I know exactly how you feel. That day, I had never felt closer to the only good thing about Samaritan, but that’s also the day that I lost it.”
“That same day? What did you lose?”
Jared shifted uncomfortably, wishing that he hadn’t said anything.
“What is it, Jared?,” Krissy asked him.
“You,” he said. “I thought you wanted to ride in the runabout that day because of me. When I met Jacob, I… I don’t know… I knew it wasn’t meant to be. So, I guess I started pushing you away…”
“I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I should have told you that I was engaged.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I suspected,” she said quietly. It was quiet again, save for the lapping sound of the water against the raft.
Although they sat on opposite sides of the raft, Jared felt as if they were light years apart. He feared that he had just thrown away the friendship that he and Flores had just repaired.
“You know,” Krissy said after a long silence,” it’s pretty cold. We should probably huddle together. Conserve our body heat.”
“Okay,” he replied. They moved towards each other. Krissy put her arms around Jared’s waist and pressed her body against his. He hesitantly put his arms around her. He had wanted to embrace her like this so many times, but he never pictured it like this.
* * * *
“Any news?,” Kingsley asked, walking onto the Bridge.
“Mister Burns has installed the antimatter pod and he is currently picking up the engineering team,” Ra-Gorvalei reported. “Mister Bulloch says that the Phlox will need a new coat of paint.”
“How long will it take them to search the crash area?”
“Approximately ten hours.”
“Our most hopeful medical estimates give Doctor Flores and Ensign Parker three hours.”
* * * *
Krissy felt Jared shift in her arms. “Is your sunburn bothering you?”
“It’s not really that bad,” he said,” but I do wish I had a tan like yours. I wouldn’t have to worry about getting burned.”
“Maybe,” Krissy said softly.
“If they find us, and we make it back to the Federation, are you going to stay aboard Samaritan, or will you go home?”
“It’s been months since I left. I can’t go home.”
“What’s keeping you?,” Jared asked.
“On Amanecer, it’s illegal to go out into the sun unsupervised until you’re sixteen.”
“Why not?”
“Because it takes sixteen years of controlled exposure to our sun to build up a natural resistance to its effects. It only takes a few months to lose that resistance. My tan has faded too much and my skin won’t protect me anymore. I gave that up for Jacob. I’ve lost everything. I’m alone.”
Jared pulled her as close to him as he could. “You’re not alone.”
Krissy held onto him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. They had shared their secrets with a recklessness that only those uncertain of their survival process. Though she had never been in so much danger, she felt safe as that night, the night stranded at sea, the night swimming with the things that they had always left unsaid, and the night that she shared her burden.
Jared grimaced slightly and shifted in her arms again. “I’m sorry. It feels like something is poking me, I think. I’m pretty numb.”
Krissy reached into her cold, damp pocket and pulled out a vial. “It’s the Ketracel White.”
“It’s glowing,” Jared said. There were splotches of bright blue light on the capped end of the vial.
“It’s the algae,” she said. “Ketracel enhances most bio-functions. That’s why the algae is glowing so brightly.”
“Krissy, I have an idea. Give me the vial.”
She thought of Chief Shaw. The Ketracel White in the vial was his only hope for regaining his natural sight. She put the vial in his hand with some reluctance.
Jared took the vial and pulled off the cap. He braced himself for the shock of the cold before dropping the fluid into the water. He shook it around to get as much of the drug out as possible. It diffused into the water quickly. Soon a brilliant blue glowing cloud grew off one side of the raft. Jared pulled his hand out of the water. It was completely numb and glowing as bright as the water.
“Sorry, Chief,” Krissy said as she watched Chief Shaw’s only hope for regaining his natural sight dissolved into her and Jared’s only hope for survival.
* * * *
“It’s been hours and there’s still no sign of them,” Burns said as he flew the Phlox in a search pattern over the crash area.
“Then we’ll keep searching,” Bulloch replied from the copilot’s seat.
“I don’t think we’re going to find them. Not alive anyway.”
“Then we’ll search until we find their bodies,” Bulloch said. “Damnit!,” he cursed, hitting his console. “The sensors are nearly useless. There must be kelbonite dissolved in the water.”
“What’s that?,” Burns asked, pointing out the forward window.
Bulloch looked up. “It’s a light,” he said. “It’s a light on an uninhabited planet. It has to be them!”
The Phlox arrived at the light quickly. Burns brought the runabout into a hover, a hundred feet above the raft. Which was close enough to trust Jared’s and Krissy’s lives to the transporters. They materialized on the deck of the cockpit, unconscious and embracing each other. Bulloch covered them in a large blanket and began rubbing them, trying to warm them up.
“Burns to Samaritan. We’ve found them. Have a medical team standing by,” the helmsman called over his combadge as he turned the runabout towards the stars.
Jared opened his eyes, looking around before smiling. “Hey, JG,” he said weakly. “I thought that flying runabouts was my job. Do you need me to take over the helm?”
“Don’t worry about it, Ensign,” Burns replied with uncharacteristically good humor. “You can take my next Bridge watch.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Jared said to his superior officer with a respectful tone for the first time.
Krissy stirred a little before raising her head. “Where am I?,” she asked.
“With friends,” Jared answered.
* * * *
Lots of themes in these installments - a fun twist with the ketracel white, giving the drug its own little sub-plot, a reconciliation (that was in the offing since the beginning of the story) and more intrigue about Eskol's unique physiology and mission.
Continues to be quite the excellent little story. Large cast of characters - all well fleshed out, tight focus and plenty for each character to do. Quite enjoying the continuing character arcs of Kingsley and Ra-Gorvalei.
Thanks!! rbs
Continues to be quite the excellent little story. Large cast of characters - all well fleshed out, tight focus and plenty for each character to do. Quite enjoying the continuing character arcs of Kingsley and Ra-Gorvalei.
Thanks!! rbs
Chapter Eight: Truth, Deceit, and the Right Thing to Do
Jared woke up quickly as if from a nightmare. What he was met with was much worse. He was lying on a platform at a steep incline with his hands shackled above his head. In front of him was something more horrible than any dream. Standing six and a half feet tall with a rifle in his arms, covered in leathery gray scales, the First stood before the Starfleet ensign.
He struggled against his restraints. “I saw you die!”
The imposing Jem’Hadar butted the stock of his rifle into the Human’s stomach. Jared would have fallen onto the deck from the blow but he was suspended by his wrists, cuffed to the platform. The gray scales around the First’s mouth contorted into a sneer.
“Actually, Ensign Parker,” a new voice said,” the Jem’Hadar that you saw die was from the same genome as this soldier. Like his deceased clone, this one also holds the rank of First.”
The man spoke slowly and deliberately as if uninterested by all that occurred around him. The stare from his faded blue eyes was hollow but piercing as if he was consumed by a single purpose, driven to a single end. The high rising ears and the flamboyant tuft of black hair gave away his species. He was a Vorta, one of the genetically-engineered diplomats and generals of the Dominion.
“My name is Yelgrun. I have been pursuing your ship for some time. I must commend your piloting skills. You presented the most unexpected difficulties.”
“I can’t take all of the credit. Your Jem’Hadar are pretty lousy pilots.” Jared’s words prompted the First to deliver another blow to the ensign’s already tender stomach.
Yelgrun sighed. “I have interrogated my fair share of Starfleet junior officers. Trust me when I tell you that it will not take long to rid you of your arrogant defiance. The methods employed are quite unpleasant. It would be much easier on both of us if you cooperated.” The Vorta stepped closer to Jared. “Now, tell me everything that you recall about the Nelvian going by the name of Eskol. And tell me, where is the canister?”
Jared spat in the Vorta’s face. Yelgrun wiped his face with his hand and turned towards the First, nodding. This time, the stock of the rifle butt came down on the Human’s head. The world went black.
* * * *
Carson Burns stood up groggily. He was in a spacious room near a bench built into the wall. Three of the four walls had a series of columns arranged into a square horseshoe. The only door in the room was on the fourth wall. A few feet in front of the door, there was a freestanding control console. The display on the console was unmistakably Federation in origin, although Samaritan had no rooms or spaces that resembled this one.
The room was crowded. At least, part of it was. The space between the walls and columns teemed with people that he recognized as Samaritan’s medical staff and engineering technicians but the rest of the room was empty.
Burns approached one of the columns. It was square, and the side paralleling the near wall were lit from the deck to the overhead. All of a sudden, the air began to glow and he felt a tingling sensation that caused him to jump back.
“Force field,” he muttered to himself. He was in a cell, a Federation cell.
* * * *
Shane Bulloch stared at Yelgrun as coldly as he could, trying to compress all of the fear that he felt coursing through his body into a ball in the pit of his stomach. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not telling you anything.”
The interrogator easily detected the fear that the ensign was futilely trying to hide. “You’ve already told me so much.” Yelgrun held up a PADD. “Your engineering logs are impressive. You’ve repaired your ship, using parts from a Dominion vessel. You’ve altered your power signature to match that of a Jem’Hadar assault ship. And my personal favorite. You’ve calibrated your sensors to better detect trilithium.” He looked up from the PADD. “You’ll be glad to know that all Dominion ships have corrected the flaw in their warp systems. Our ships will no longer vent trilithium and they can no longer be tracked by Starfleet, and that’s all thanks to you, Ensign.”
Bulloch shrank a bit at the realization that his logs had given up one of the Federation’s few advantages in a war that they were losing. Seeing the pleased look on Yelgrun’s face, he steeled himself again.
“As renowned as the ingenuity of Starfleet engineers is, I believe that you had help. Tell me everything that you’ve discussed with Eskol.”
“He didn’t tell me anything.”
“I doubt that. By their nature, Humans are quite chatty as you say. What did Eskol tell you?”
Bulloch said nothing.
“I will get my answers, Mister Bulloch,” Yelgrun said. “Perhaps I should press Mister Parker for more information.”
“He doesn’t know anything. He only ever met Eskol once.”
“I know. He spoke with him in the shuttle bay when you were leaving the Badlands. Perhaps my euphemism didn’t convey my intentions. I will kill Ensign Parker if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
All of Bulloch’s attempts to hide his fear broke down. His terror could be seen plainly by the expression on his face.
“I’m giving you a rare opportunity, Ensign Bulloch. I am giving you a second chance, a chance to save the life of one of your crewmates.” Yelgrun’s voice was calm, almost understanding. “Or will you choose to let Mister Parker die like you let Crewman Anderson die?”
All of the information that Yelgrun wanted to know begged to pass through his lips. The desire to save his friend was overwhelming, and the engineer didn’t know if he had the strength to resist.
* * * *
Burns was walking around the edge of the cell. Most of his fellow prisoners were either asleep or groggily waking up, wondering where they were and how they had gotten there.
“Lieutenant Burns,” someone called out. It was a young Roylan male in engineering coveralls.
“Crewman?,” Burns asked as he turned to face him.
“Mazik, sir. Am I glad to see you!”
“What’s happened, Mazik? Where are we?”
“I was hoping that you would know, sir. You’re the only officer that I’ve seen.”
“You haven’t seen anyone else from the senior staff?”
“I saw the Chief on the other side of the cell, but he was asleep. I wasn’t about to wake a sleeping Chief.” Mazik forced a chuckle at his own joke.
Burns was feeling very alone. Mazik was expecting something from him. Something that he doubted that he had. “Why don’t you try to find out who’s here and who’s missing. I’ll go talk to Chief Shaw,” he finally said.
* * * *
“Where is the logic in resisting me, Doctor Sovek?,” Yelgrun asked. “Do Vulcans not value their lives?”
“You are at war with my sovereignty. I can only assume that any answers that I would provide to you would be used against the Federation. Vulcans hold life in the highest regard, but it would be illogical to save my own life by giving you information that could assist you in killing my countrymen.” Hanging onto the Dominion interrogation table left the Vulcan in a less dignified position than he was accustomed to, but his steady words signaled no discomfort.
“I have to admit that I am somewhat surprised at your answer. I read a log from the Samaritan's Executive Officer. It says you suggested that the Samaritan surrender to the Dominion.”
“My logic was flawed in that instance.”
“A rare occurrence in Vulcans.”
“However infrequent an occurrence, nonetheless.”
“Perhaps, your logic is flawed now too. You have not yet heard my questions. If you did, you would realize the information that I seek is about one man, the Nelvian named Eskol. What you tell me would not hurt your fellow Federation citizens.”
“It will be used to hurt one.”
“You believe that Eskol is a Federation citizen? Nothing could be farther from the truth. He’s from the Gamma Quadrant. His people’s home world is one of the core planets of the Dominion.”
* * * *
“Who’s there?,” the Chief asked. “I can hear you breathing.”
Burns inhaled a bit more sharply, not expecting the Chief to respond. “It’s me, Chief. I thought you were asleep.”
“Burns? I’m not asleep. Just got my eyes closed, since I don’t have much use for leaving them open.” The Chief sat up. His eyelids opened halfway and his pupils stared blankly ahead. “So, who rescued us?”
“You think that we were rescued?”
“Listen to the power pulsing through the EPS conduits. We’re on a Federation starship, but it isn’t Samaritan. It sounds a lot more powerful.”
Burns sat down on the bench next to Shaw. “We haven’t been rescued, Chief. We’re in a cell. I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know where it is, and the rest of the senior staff doesn’t seem to be here.”
“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” the Chief muttered.
“Sir!,” Mazik called out, running up to them. His report came spilling out of his mouth in one breath. “I haven’t found any more officers. The engineering team is all accounted for, and all of the nurses are here. Two doctors are missing, and only the fully recovered patients are here as far as I can tell.”
“Which doctors?,” Shaw asked.
“Doctor Flores and Doctor, uh… the Vulcan doctor,” Mazik said.
“Sovek and Flores,” Burns asked. “What do they have to do with any of this?”
“Maybe they were lucky enough to escape or unlucky enough to get themselves killed,” Shaw suggested.
“What are we going to do, sir?,” Mazik asked Burns.
Burns looked back in bewilderment. Me?, he thought. “Chief?,” he asked, turning toward Shaw.
“We’ll find you if we need you, Mazik. Good work,” Shaw said to the crewman. He listened as the Roylan’s footsteps became more distant before he turned back to Burns. “Listen, Lieutenant, you’re in charge here. You’re the ranking officer and more people than Mazik are going to be looking to you for leadership.”
“I don’t know what to do, Chief,” Burns admitted to him. “I don’t know what to tell them.”
The Chief sighed. “You think that I can tell you? I’m a blind, old fool. You’re an officer. You signed up for this. You wanted command. Well, this is it.”
Every face in the cell turned in the same direction as the door behind the console swooshed open. A man in an all-black uniform stepped through the doors. Some of the prisoners hollered at the man, demanding to know what was happening. Others struck their fists against the force fields, but most of them just stared. The man ignored the actions of the prisoners.
He walked to the console and spoke over the other voices. “Lieutenant Junior Grade Carson Burns, please step forward.”
* * * *
“This should be easy. She’s a civilian. She has no formal resistance training, and she is an intellectual. The profile on such people indicates that the threat of pain is actually more effective than the applications of pain,” Yelgrun explained to the Jem’Hadar guards while reviewing the information on the PADD before turning towards his subject. “Threat or application, I cannot make up my mind, Doctor Flores. I think that we’ll try both methods, and see which one is more effective.”
Krissy’s heart beat faster and faster as Yelgrun walked towards her. The Vorta circled around to the back of the interrogation table. He pressed a control and a brace restrained her head, holding it firmly against the table and forcing her to stare straight ahead. Two probes rose from beneath the table. The tips of them glowed red with some sort of energy as they settled in on either side of her head approximately ten centimeters away, centering on her temples.
“I’ve been through all of the logs and reports from your ship, but I still have some unanswered questions,” Yelgrun said.
“I don’t know anything,” Krissy pleaded. “I’m just a doctor.”
Yelgrun pressed a control and the probes clicked a centimeter closer. “Are you familiar with Klingon pain sticks? They’re a ceremonial staff used in their barbaric rituals. They emit a special type of energy that causes the neurons that sense pain to fire. The probes that I’m moving towards your temples emit that same energy, but where the Klingon pain sticks only cause pain in a localized area, these probes will fire every pain receptor in your body. They will cause you to feel the maximum amount of pain that your body is capable of.”
There was no threat in Yelgrun’s voice. The description was cold and clinical. “You were the first member of the Samaritan’s crew to make contact with Eskol. You save his life. Surely you would have noticed if he had anything with him. Where is the canister?”
Krissy was beginning to hyperventilate. She didn’t know how she had been captured, and she hoped that she was the only one. She prayed he hadn’t been captured. “I don’t know anything about a canister.”
“Are you sure?,” the Vorta asked her, clicking the probes closer. “Think very hard.”
* * * *
Burns had been led to a small room and left sitting alone at a table. There were no computer consoles, or even door controls inside the room. The chamber had been clearly designed for interrogation. He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting when the door finally hissed open. The man that entered the room had neatly combed brown hair and wore the same black uniform as the guard who had taken him from the cell. The man sat down on the other side of the table. He reviewed the information on a PADD that he had with him before setting it down and looking at Burns.
“Carson Burns, Lieutenant Junior Grade, graduated in the top third of your Academy class, served at Starfleet Personnel Command, and then was assigned to the Samaritan as lead helmsman and second officer,” the man said.
“That’s right,” Burns said,” but I missed your name.”
“I didn’t give it,” replied the man. “I am Starfleet Intelligence’s Deputy Director of Internal Affairs. My title should suffice.”
“Sir, is there any chance of finding out what this is all about?”
“I’m the one asking questions here, Lieutenant,” the director snapped back at him. “If you know what’s good for your career, you’ll be completely forthcoming.”
Burns got the hint and didn’t respond.
“Your ship treated a patient named Eskol,” the director asked. “What do you know about him?”
“We picked him up on MN-1375. He’s a Nelvian. He can change the color of his skin and spit out some sort of stomach acid. He’s an intelligence operative. The Dominion is chasing him, but he wouldn’t tell us why.” Burns thought for a moment. “That’s all I know.”
“What about the canister? Eskol had a canister with him. What happened to it?”
“I don’t know anything about a canister. Nobody mentioned it.”
“Do you know where the rest of Samaritan’s senior staff is?”
“No, sir. I was aboard Samaritan. We had completed repairs and we were heading back to Federation space. Then I woke up here. I don’t know what happened.”
The Director studied Burns. “I believe you,” he finally said. “Now tell me, truthfully, is there any question in your mind about the loyalty of your fellow officers aboard Samaritan?”
“I don’t understand. Loyalty to what?,” Burns asked. “Starfleet?”
The Director leaned forward and talked softly. “Eskol is not, nor had he ever been a Starfleet Intelligence operative. He is working for the Dominion. He has created a biological weapon, and his mission is to release it at the heart of the Federation.”
“What does that have to do with the loyalty of the Samaritan’s crew? Why would you lock us in a cell for something that Eskol did?”
“Ten hours ago, a Dominion battleship briefly rendezvoused with the Samaritan. By the time that we arrived, the battleship was gone, and we found everyone on your ship unconscious. Key personnel were missing, along with Eskol, and there was no sign of a struggle.”
“What are you saying? You don’t think that – “
“That the command crew of the USS Samaritan has defected to the Dominion?,” the director said, finishing his thought. “I’m not sure. Until we find out, I must consider everyone from your ship to be a security risk.”
“I see,” Burns said meekly. His head was spinning with this new information.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Burns. It’ll go far towards clearing all of this up.” As the director spoke, the guard that had brought him to the interrogation room reappeared. Burns stood up and turned towards the door, but the director stopped him. “One more thing, Mister Burns. What happened to Chief Shaw?”
“The console that he was at exploded the first time that the battleship attacked us. He said no more. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“My condolences,” the director said, nodding for the guard to take Burns away. After the door hissed shut, he pulled out a small communications device and spoke into it. “We’ve obtained all of the information that we’ll get through these methods. Begin interrogation level two.”
* * * *
The probes clicked closer to Flores’ temples. “I already told you. He’s got dynamic pigmentation, and three stomachs. He was a biochemist, and he has some secret that he won’t share.”
“Are you sure that you don’t know anything else?,” Yelgrun asked, clicking the probes even closer.
Krissy could barely speak. She was breathing in and out so quickly, feeling the heat at the ends of the probes. She searched her mind for anything that might stop them from coming any closer. “He can projectile vomit on command. He eats wood,” she cried out. “I don’t know anything else!”
“He eats wood?,” the Vorta asked. “How odd.”
* * * *
“Move faster.” The First punctuated his command by striking Jared in the back of his head with the butt of his rifle. The blow sent him reeling forward onto the deck of the corridor. “Get up.”
Jared stood up awkwardly, the binders holding his wrists together which made it hard to pick himself up off the floor and his body throbbed from the painful beatings he had endured. He stood up in front of a door. Sensing his presence, it swooshed open and he couldn’t believe what he saw.
“Krissy!,” he yelled.
“Jared, help me!,” she screamed from the interrogation table.
“Get him out of here!,” Yelgrun commanded the First.
The First pushed Jared on and the door hissed shut. Jared took a few more steps before he suddenly turned around. He threw his shoulder into the First and reached for the Jem’Hadar’s waist with his bound hands.
The First didn’t lose an inch of ground. As he flew towards him, the First drew back his right arm and met Jared’s face with a clenched fist. His body twisted and fell forward onto the ground.
“Try that again, and I’ll shoot you,” the First promised.
Jared rolled over and leveled a disruptor pistol at the Jem’Hadar. “Not if I shoot you first.”
Before the First could look at his hip to find his sidearm holster empty, Jared fired. The massive frames of the soldier fell back onto the deck.
Jared stepped over the dead body and busted through the door where he had seen Krissy. He fired and hit the Jem’Hadar in the room before the guard even had a chance to raise his rifle. He turned to Yelgrun and shot the gaping Vorta in the head.
“Jared!,” Krissy exclaimed. Jared moved towards the interrogation table, setting the pistol down before shutting off the probes and releasing the restraints. Krissy jumped up and hugged him. “Thank God! I thought maybe… I mean, I couldn’t stand to lose… Not again.” She held him tighter, sobbing into his shoulder.
For a moment, Jared forgot that they were still in the belly of a Dominion warship. “It’s all right. You’re not alone.” He tried to hug her back and realized that his wrists were still locked together. He remembered where they were.
He told Krissy to pick the pistol up off the floor. She released him from her embrace and did as he said. She pressed the muzzle of the disruptor pistol to the binders around Jared’s wrists, squeezing the trigger and a blue beam lanced through the binders and into the floor.
The restraints fell away. Jared rubbed his wrists before picking up the assault rifle that the Jem’Hadar corpse was holding. He checked the hallway to make sure that it was empty.
“We’re getting out of here,” he said.
* * * *
Jared woke up quickly as if from a nightmare. What he was met with was much worse. He was lying on a platform at a steep incline with his hands shackled above his head. In front of him was something more horrible than any dream. Standing six and a half feet tall with a rifle in his arms, covered in leathery gray scales, the First stood before the Starfleet ensign.
He struggled against his restraints. “I saw you die!”
The imposing Jem’Hadar butted the stock of his rifle into the Human’s stomach. Jared would have fallen onto the deck from the blow but he was suspended by his wrists, cuffed to the platform. The gray scales around the First’s mouth contorted into a sneer.
“Actually, Ensign Parker,” a new voice said,” the Jem’Hadar that you saw die was from the same genome as this soldier. Like his deceased clone, this one also holds the rank of First.”
The man spoke slowly and deliberately as if uninterested by all that occurred around him. The stare from his faded blue eyes was hollow but piercing as if he was consumed by a single purpose, driven to a single end. The high rising ears and the flamboyant tuft of black hair gave away his species. He was a Vorta, one of the genetically-engineered diplomats and generals of the Dominion.
“My name is Yelgrun. I have been pursuing your ship for some time. I must commend your piloting skills. You presented the most unexpected difficulties.”
“I can’t take all of the credit. Your Jem’Hadar are pretty lousy pilots.” Jared’s words prompted the First to deliver another blow to the ensign’s already tender stomach.
Yelgrun sighed. “I have interrogated my fair share of Starfleet junior officers. Trust me when I tell you that it will not take long to rid you of your arrogant defiance. The methods employed are quite unpleasant. It would be much easier on both of us if you cooperated.” The Vorta stepped closer to Jared. “Now, tell me everything that you recall about the Nelvian going by the name of Eskol. And tell me, where is the canister?”
Jared spat in the Vorta’s face. Yelgrun wiped his face with his hand and turned towards the First, nodding. This time, the stock of the rifle butt came down on the Human’s head. The world went black.
* * * *
Carson Burns stood up groggily. He was in a spacious room near a bench built into the wall. Three of the four walls had a series of columns arranged into a square horseshoe. The only door in the room was on the fourth wall. A few feet in front of the door, there was a freestanding control console. The display on the console was unmistakably Federation in origin, although Samaritan had no rooms or spaces that resembled this one.
The room was crowded. At least, part of it was. The space between the walls and columns teemed with people that he recognized as Samaritan’s medical staff and engineering technicians but the rest of the room was empty.
Burns approached one of the columns. It was square, and the side paralleling the near wall were lit from the deck to the overhead. All of a sudden, the air began to glow and he felt a tingling sensation that caused him to jump back.
“Force field,” he muttered to himself. He was in a cell, a Federation cell.
* * * *
Shane Bulloch stared at Yelgrun as coldly as he could, trying to compress all of the fear that he felt coursing through his body into a ball in the pit of his stomach. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not telling you anything.”
The interrogator easily detected the fear that the ensign was futilely trying to hide. “You’ve already told me so much.” Yelgrun held up a PADD. “Your engineering logs are impressive. You’ve repaired your ship, using parts from a Dominion vessel. You’ve altered your power signature to match that of a Jem’Hadar assault ship. And my personal favorite. You’ve calibrated your sensors to better detect trilithium.” He looked up from the PADD. “You’ll be glad to know that all Dominion ships have corrected the flaw in their warp systems. Our ships will no longer vent trilithium and they can no longer be tracked by Starfleet, and that’s all thanks to you, Ensign.”
Bulloch shrank a bit at the realization that his logs had given up one of the Federation’s few advantages in a war that they were losing. Seeing the pleased look on Yelgrun’s face, he steeled himself again.
“As renowned as the ingenuity of Starfleet engineers is, I believe that you had help. Tell me everything that you’ve discussed with Eskol.”
“He didn’t tell me anything.”
“I doubt that. By their nature, Humans are quite chatty as you say. What did Eskol tell you?”
Bulloch said nothing.
“I will get my answers, Mister Bulloch,” Yelgrun said. “Perhaps I should press Mister Parker for more information.”
“He doesn’t know anything. He only ever met Eskol once.”
“I know. He spoke with him in the shuttle bay when you were leaving the Badlands. Perhaps my euphemism didn’t convey my intentions. I will kill Ensign Parker if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
All of Bulloch’s attempts to hide his fear broke down. His terror could be seen plainly by the expression on his face.
“I’m giving you a rare opportunity, Ensign Bulloch. I am giving you a second chance, a chance to save the life of one of your crewmates.” Yelgrun’s voice was calm, almost understanding. “Or will you choose to let Mister Parker die like you let Crewman Anderson die?”
All of the information that Yelgrun wanted to know begged to pass through his lips. The desire to save his friend was overwhelming, and the engineer didn’t know if he had the strength to resist.
* * * *
Burns was walking around the edge of the cell. Most of his fellow prisoners were either asleep or groggily waking up, wondering where they were and how they had gotten there.
“Lieutenant Burns,” someone called out. It was a young Roylan male in engineering coveralls.
“Crewman?,” Burns asked as he turned to face him.
“Mazik, sir. Am I glad to see you!”
“What’s happened, Mazik? Where are we?”
“I was hoping that you would know, sir. You’re the only officer that I’ve seen.”
“You haven’t seen anyone else from the senior staff?”
“I saw the Chief on the other side of the cell, but he was asleep. I wasn’t about to wake a sleeping Chief.” Mazik forced a chuckle at his own joke.
Burns was feeling very alone. Mazik was expecting something from him. Something that he doubted that he had. “Why don’t you try to find out who’s here and who’s missing. I’ll go talk to Chief Shaw,” he finally said.
* * * *
“Where is the logic in resisting me, Doctor Sovek?,” Yelgrun asked. “Do Vulcans not value their lives?”
“You are at war with my sovereignty. I can only assume that any answers that I would provide to you would be used against the Federation. Vulcans hold life in the highest regard, but it would be illogical to save my own life by giving you information that could assist you in killing my countrymen.” Hanging onto the Dominion interrogation table left the Vulcan in a less dignified position than he was accustomed to, but his steady words signaled no discomfort.
“I have to admit that I am somewhat surprised at your answer. I read a log from the Samaritan's Executive Officer. It says you suggested that the Samaritan surrender to the Dominion.”
“My logic was flawed in that instance.”
“A rare occurrence in Vulcans.”
“However infrequent an occurrence, nonetheless.”
“Perhaps, your logic is flawed now too. You have not yet heard my questions. If you did, you would realize the information that I seek is about one man, the Nelvian named Eskol. What you tell me would not hurt your fellow Federation citizens.”
“It will be used to hurt one.”
“You believe that Eskol is a Federation citizen? Nothing could be farther from the truth. He’s from the Gamma Quadrant. His people’s home world is one of the core planets of the Dominion.”
* * * *
“Who’s there?,” the Chief asked. “I can hear you breathing.”
Burns inhaled a bit more sharply, not expecting the Chief to respond. “It’s me, Chief. I thought you were asleep.”
“Burns? I’m not asleep. Just got my eyes closed, since I don’t have much use for leaving them open.” The Chief sat up. His eyelids opened halfway and his pupils stared blankly ahead. “So, who rescued us?”
“You think that we were rescued?”
“Listen to the power pulsing through the EPS conduits. We’re on a Federation starship, but it isn’t Samaritan. It sounds a lot more powerful.”
Burns sat down on the bench next to Shaw. “We haven’t been rescued, Chief. We’re in a cell. I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know where it is, and the rest of the senior staff doesn’t seem to be here.”
“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” the Chief muttered.
“Sir!,” Mazik called out, running up to them. His report came spilling out of his mouth in one breath. “I haven’t found any more officers. The engineering team is all accounted for, and all of the nurses are here. Two doctors are missing, and only the fully recovered patients are here as far as I can tell.”
“Which doctors?,” Shaw asked.
“Doctor Flores and Doctor, uh… the Vulcan doctor,” Mazik said.
“Sovek and Flores,” Burns asked. “What do they have to do with any of this?”
“Maybe they were lucky enough to escape or unlucky enough to get themselves killed,” Shaw suggested.
“What are we going to do, sir?,” Mazik asked Burns.
Burns looked back in bewilderment. Me?, he thought. “Chief?,” he asked, turning toward Shaw.
“We’ll find you if we need you, Mazik. Good work,” Shaw said to the crewman. He listened as the Roylan’s footsteps became more distant before he turned back to Burns. “Listen, Lieutenant, you’re in charge here. You’re the ranking officer and more people than Mazik are going to be looking to you for leadership.”
“I don’t know what to do, Chief,” Burns admitted to him. “I don’t know what to tell them.”
The Chief sighed. “You think that I can tell you? I’m a blind, old fool. You’re an officer. You signed up for this. You wanted command. Well, this is it.”
Every face in the cell turned in the same direction as the door behind the console swooshed open. A man in an all-black uniform stepped through the doors. Some of the prisoners hollered at the man, demanding to know what was happening. Others struck their fists against the force fields, but most of them just stared. The man ignored the actions of the prisoners.
He walked to the console and spoke over the other voices. “Lieutenant Junior Grade Carson Burns, please step forward.”
* * * *
“This should be easy. She’s a civilian. She has no formal resistance training, and she is an intellectual. The profile on such people indicates that the threat of pain is actually more effective than the applications of pain,” Yelgrun explained to the Jem’Hadar guards while reviewing the information on the PADD before turning towards his subject. “Threat or application, I cannot make up my mind, Doctor Flores. I think that we’ll try both methods, and see which one is more effective.”
Krissy’s heart beat faster and faster as Yelgrun walked towards her. The Vorta circled around to the back of the interrogation table. He pressed a control and a brace restrained her head, holding it firmly against the table and forcing her to stare straight ahead. Two probes rose from beneath the table. The tips of them glowed red with some sort of energy as they settled in on either side of her head approximately ten centimeters away, centering on her temples.
“I’ve been through all of the logs and reports from your ship, but I still have some unanswered questions,” Yelgrun said.
“I don’t know anything,” Krissy pleaded. “I’m just a doctor.”
Yelgrun pressed a control and the probes clicked a centimeter closer. “Are you familiar with Klingon pain sticks? They’re a ceremonial staff used in their barbaric rituals. They emit a special type of energy that causes the neurons that sense pain to fire. The probes that I’m moving towards your temples emit that same energy, but where the Klingon pain sticks only cause pain in a localized area, these probes will fire every pain receptor in your body. They will cause you to feel the maximum amount of pain that your body is capable of.”
There was no threat in Yelgrun’s voice. The description was cold and clinical. “You were the first member of the Samaritan’s crew to make contact with Eskol. You save his life. Surely you would have noticed if he had anything with him. Where is the canister?”
Krissy was beginning to hyperventilate. She didn’t know how she had been captured, and she hoped that she was the only one. She prayed he hadn’t been captured. “I don’t know anything about a canister.”
“Are you sure?,” the Vorta asked her, clicking the probes closer. “Think very hard.”
* * * *
Burns had been led to a small room and left sitting alone at a table. There were no computer consoles, or even door controls inside the room. The chamber had been clearly designed for interrogation. He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting when the door finally hissed open. The man that entered the room had neatly combed brown hair and wore the same black uniform as the guard who had taken him from the cell. The man sat down on the other side of the table. He reviewed the information on a PADD that he had with him before setting it down and looking at Burns.
“Carson Burns, Lieutenant Junior Grade, graduated in the top third of your Academy class, served at Starfleet Personnel Command, and then was assigned to the Samaritan as lead helmsman and second officer,” the man said.
“That’s right,” Burns said,” but I missed your name.”
“I didn’t give it,” replied the man. “I am Starfleet Intelligence’s Deputy Director of Internal Affairs. My title should suffice.”
“Sir, is there any chance of finding out what this is all about?”
“I’m the one asking questions here, Lieutenant,” the director snapped back at him. “If you know what’s good for your career, you’ll be completely forthcoming.”
Burns got the hint and didn’t respond.
“Your ship treated a patient named Eskol,” the director asked. “What do you know about him?”
“We picked him up on MN-1375. He’s a Nelvian. He can change the color of his skin and spit out some sort of stomach acid. He’s an intelligence operative. The Dominion is chasing him, but he wouldn’t tell us why.” Burns thought for a moment. “That’s all I know.”
“What about the canister? Eskol had a canister with him. What happened to it?”
“I don’t know anything about a canister. Nobody mentioned it.”
“Do you know where the rest of Samaritan’s senior staff is?”
“No, sir. I was aboard Samaritan. We had completed repairs and we were heading back to Federation space. Then I woke up here. I don’t know what happened.”
The Director studied Burns. “I believe you,” he finally said. “Now tell me, truthfully, is there any question in your mind about the loyalty of your fellow officers aboard Samaritan?”
“I don’t understand. Loyalty to what?,” Burns asked. “Starfleet?”
The Director leaned forward and talked softly. “Eskol is not, nor had he ever been a Starfleet Intelligence operative. He is working for the Dominion. He has created a biological weapon, and his mission is to release it at the heart of the Federation.”
“What does that have to do with the loyalty of the Samaritan’s crew? Why would you lock us in a cell for something that Eskol did?”
“Ten hours ago, a Dominion battleship briefly rendezvoused with the Samaritan. By the time that we arrived, the battleship was gone, and we found everyone on your ship unconscious. Key personnel were missing, along with Eskol, and there was no sign of a struggle.”
“What are you saying? You don’t think that – “
“That the command crew of the USS Samaritan has defected to the Dominion?,” the director said, finishing his thought. “I’m not sure. Until we find out, I must consider everyone from your ship to be a security risk.”
“I see,” Burns said meekly. His head was spinning with this new information.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Burns. It’ll go far towards clearing all of this up.” As the director spoke, the guard that had brought him to the interrogation room reappeared. Burns stood up and turned towards the door, but the director stopped him. “One more thing, Mister Burns. What happened to Chief Shaw?”
“The console that he was at exploded the first time that the battleship attacked us. He said no more. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“My condolences,” the director said, nodding for the guard to take Burns away. After the door hissed shut, he pulled out a small communications device and spoke into it. “We’ve obtained all of the information that we’ll get through these methods. Begin interrogation level two.”
* * * *
The probes clicked closer to Flores’ temples. “I already told you. He’s got dynamic pigmentation, and three stomachs. He was a biochemist, and he has some secret that he won’t share.”
“Are you sure that you don’t know anything else?,” Yelgrun asked, clicking the probes even closer.
Krissy could barely speak. She was breathing in and out so quickly, feeling the heat at the ends of the probes. She searched her mind for anything that might stop them from coming any closer. “He can projectile vomit on command. He eats wood,” she cried out. “I don’t know anything else!”
“He eats wood?,” the Vorta asked. “How odd.”
* * * *
“Move faster.” The First punctuated his command by striking Jared in the back of his head with the butt of his rifle. The blow sent him reeling forward onto the deck of the corridor. “Get up.”
Jared stood up awkwardly, the binders holding his wrists together which made it hard to pick himself up off the floor and his body throbbed from the painful beatings he had endured. He stood up in front of a door. Sensing his presence, it swooshed open and he couldn’t believe what he saw.
“Krissy!,” he yelled.
“Jared, help me!,” she screamed from the interrogation table.
“Get him out of here!,” Yelgrun commanded the First.
The First pushed Jared on and the door hissed shut. Jared took a few more steps before he suddenly turned around. He threw his shoulder into the First and reached for the Jem’Hadar’s waist with his bound hands.
The First didn’t lose an inch of ground. As he flew towards him, the First drew back his right arm and met Jared’s face with a clenched fist. His body twisted and fell forward onto the ground.
“Try that again, and I’ll shoot you,” the First promised.
Jared rolled over and leveled a disruptor pistol at the Jem’Hadar. “Not if I shoot you first.”
Before the First could look at his hip to find his sidearm holster empty, Jared fired. The massive frames of the soldier fell back onto the deck.
Jared stepped over the dead body and busted through the door where he had seen Krissy. He fired and hit the Jem’Hadar in the room before the guard even had a chance to raise his rifle. He turned to Yelgrun and shot the gaping Vorta in the head.
“Jared!,” Krissy exclaimed. Jared moved towards the interrogation table, setting the pistol down before shutting off the probes and releasing the restraints. Krissy jumped up and hugged him. “Thank God! I thought maybe… I mean, I couldn’t stand to lose… Not again.” She held him tighter, sobbing into his shoulder.
For a moment, Jared forgot that they were still in the belly of a Dominion warship. “It’s all right. You’re not alone.” He tried to hug her back and realized that his wrists were still locked together. He remembered where they were.
He told Krissy to pick the pistol up off the floor. She released him from her embrace and did as he said. She pressed the muzzle of the disruptor pistol to the binders around Jared’s wrists, squeezing the trigger and a blue beam lanced through the binders and into the floor.
The restraints fell away. Jared rubbed his wrists before picking up the assault rifle that the Jem’Hadar corpse was holding. He checked the hallway to make sure that it was empty.
“We’re getting out of here,” he said.
* * * *
Shane Bulloch sat alone in a Dominion cell. He couldn’t believe what he had done, the betrayal that he had committed. His thoughts wandered back to a conversation that he had with Eskol. In the end, he had said that everyone gets hurt. The dilemma that is at the forefront of my mind is the right thing to do in such times, he thought, wondering if he had done the right thing or if he had abandoned one of the trusts he had held in the highest regard. And he wondered what was making that noise.
Bulloch stood up, his engineer’s obsession with mechanical order taking over. It was a crick or a rattle. Something was moving that wasn’t supposed to.
The interior of the cell was smooth. There was a bench that also served as a bed, but every surface was perfectly smooth and machined to fit precisely in its place. In one corner of the small room, the rattle and crick was clearly getting louder. He looked up to see an air vent. He stepped up on the bench and reached up towards the vent, standing on his toes. The tip of his finger touched the corner of the vent, a shock coursing through his body. He soon found himself lying on the floor, completely sore, and with a burned fingertip. However, he was sure about one thing – the grate over the vent had moved!
Bulloch stepped up onto the bench again. He braced himself before leaping for the vent. His fingers looped through the grate, and the shock was much more intense this time. He wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious but when he came to, there was a grate in his hands and a hole in the ceiling.
With the grate gone, the circuit was broken. The third time that Bulloch leaped for the vent, he caught the edge and pulled himself up. With no frame of reference as to where he was, the engineer picked a direction and began crawling on his belly.
* * * *
“His condolences?” Shaw didn’t understand it. “Did he think that I was dead?”
“I’m not sure,” Burns admitted. “I was distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about what the director had told me about Eskol, and about the others.”
“It doesn’t make sense, Lieutenant. Why would he ask you about me and no one else? Why wouldn’t he assume that I defected with the rest of the command staff?”
“You really think that they defected, Chief?”
“Hell, no. How many defectors do you know that destroy three Jem’Hadar assault ships? If they did go aboard that Dominion ship, it wasn’t of their own accord.”
Burns stood up and paced with frustration. “But why? Why take them?”
The Chief looked back through all that they had been through since MN-1375. One of his last memories of sight struck him. Everyone on the command staff, save for Burns, and two doctors were standing in Samaritan’s Sickbay, arguing over what to do with an injured Jem’Hadar soldier. He also remembered seeing one fully recovered patient with them.
“Eskol,” he muttered.
Burns stopped his pacing. “What was that, Chief?”
“Have you ever met Eskol?,” Shaw asked him. “Ever talked with him?”
Burns sat down on the bench and thought for a moment. “No. Everything that I know about him comes from filing the ship’s official reports.”
Shaw nodded. “I know for a fact that everyone taken has met him.”
“Then why weren’t you taken?,” Burns wondered.
“I don’t know, sir. Maybe because I’m a patient. Maybe they just didn’t have enough time to find me.”
* * * *
Crawling through the cramped ventilation shaft, Bulloch was reminded of a popular joke at Starfleet Academy’s Advanced Engineering School about the Federation’s best engineers being less than 5’9. There were a surprisingly high number of short instructors at the school. It was rumored that a former student quantified the phenomenon, as engineers often did, by calculating the mean height of Starfleet engineers holding the rank of Lieutenant Commander or above. The story goes that the average was slightly below five feet, nine inches, and it was found that the majority of personnel to transfer out of engineering upon reaching the rank were above the mean. While no specific reason was ever determined, every engineer who spent time in a Jefferies tube or a ventilation shaft like Bulloch knew exactly why the job was better suited for shorter people.
At present, it wasn’t the size of the space that made Bulloch uncomfortable. His apprehension came from that space being inside of an enemy vessel. He continued crawling along on his belly. He looked through a vent and saw an empty corridor. He was about to open the vent until he heard something, a voice that he recognized. He carefully inched forward, trying to minimize the noise that he made, rounding a ninety-degree bend in the shaft. There was another vent, and he could hear the voice much more clearly.
“What have you done with my patients? With my ship?,” the voice asked. Bulloch peaked through the grating and saw that it was Lieutenant Commander Kingsley.
Then another voice came, one that sent chills down the Ensign’s spine. “Please, Doctor, let’s try to stay on topic. Where is the canister?” The low, calm voice came from Yelgrun.
Bulloch thought back to his own interrogation and his betrayal. Seeing another vent slightly further down the shaft, he quietly moved on.
“I don’t know about a canister. Where is my medical staff? What have you done with my crew?,” Bulloch heard Kingsley saying as he moved on.
Peering through the next vent, Bulloch saw another cell. There was a white-haired man sitting in the middle of the cell, looking down at the floor. The engineer might not have known who it was if it wasn’t for the slight cranial ridges.
“Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei,” he called out quietly to him.
The Efrosian jumped to his feet and turned around. Bulloch could see that the skin of his superior officer’s face had been rendered purple with bruises. “Ensign Bulloch?” He was looking back and forth from empty wall to empty wall.
“Up here, in the vent.”
“Are you all right?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you seen anyone else from the Samaritan?”
“The CO is one room over, being interrogated.”
“Can you get these doors open?”
“I passed a vent to the corridor. I can open them from there.”
Ra-Gorvalei nodded. “Excellent. Wait for Yelgrun and the guards to leave Commander Kingsley’s cell. Then drop down to the corridor and let us out.”
* * * *
“Where are we going?,” Krissy asked as they continued down the corridor.
“The shuttle bay,” said Jared.
“Are you sure you know where it is?”
“No idea,” Jared said while motioning for her to get against the bulkhead. He cautiously peeked around the corridor before jerking his head back when he saw a Jem’Hadar soldier walking down the passageway. “One’s coming,” he whispered.
“Who’s there?, called out the Jem’Hadar.
Taking a deep breath, he looked at Flores.
“No,” she mouthed, knowing instantly what he was planning to do.
Jared raised the rifle so he was staring down at the bore. He spun around the corner and aimed his weapon at the Jem’Hadar, who was now lying motionless, his face down on the deck.
“Ensign Parker, what are you doing here?” Eskol seemed to materialize out of thin air as his skin changed from the color of the corridor to flesh tones.
* * * *
In the Federation cell, it seemed that everywhere that Burns looked, someone was just looking away. “It’s weird, Chief. I get the feeling that everyone is staring at him.”
“They are,” Shaw said. “The engineering techs all know who you are. The doctors have seen you with Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei and the skipper around the ship. They’re all waiting for you.”
“To do what?,” asked Burns.
“Anything. With the Skipper and the XO gone, like it or not, you’re the Commanding Officer, USS Samaritan. These people are your crew. They’re locked in a cell,” Shaw answered,” and they’re waiting for you to tell them what to do.”
Burns stood up and slowly paced the cell. He crossed his arms and stared at the ground. He felt eyes boring into him. Looking up, immediately their pupils scattered, but they kept peeking back at him. He recognized the owner of one pair of eyes that kept stealing glances at him.
“Crewman Mazik,” he called out.
The Roylan snapped up straight and hurried over to Burns. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you think that you and the engineering technicians could figure out a way to shut down these force fields?”
Mazik nodded. “We can sure try, sir.”
* * * *
Bulloch’s hand hovered above the door control, as he thought back to Sickbay, days ago. He remembered how he couldn’t bring himself to vent the atmosphere and his roommate. He had chosen Jared over the ship. Luckily, Ra-Gorvalei had been there to save them all. He thought back to his interrogation with Yelgrun and his great betrayal. Could the Lieutenant save him again?
He pressed the control. The Efrosian on the other side had obviously been beaten severely but he moved as if nothing had happened. “Where’s Commander Kingsley?,” he asked.
“Next door, sir,” Bulloch replied. “I wanted to speak with you first, sir.”
Ra-Gorvalei studied Bullock for a moment. “Quickly.”
Bulloch drew a deep breath. He had to confess. “When I was being interrogated, the Vorta, Yelgrun, said that he would kill Ensign Parker if I didn’t talk.”
“Our main concern is escape. The faster that we can return to Federation space and be debriefed, the less damaging any information that you shared will be,” Ra-Gorvalei said, curtly, emphasizing that the conversation was over.
Bulloch shook his head and looked at the ground. “You don’t understand, sir. I let Jared die.”
Ra-Gorvalei grabbed him by the shoulders and locked his eyes with the engineer. “Listen to me. You didn’t kill Ensign Parker, the Dominion did. Do you understand? It’s not your fault.”
Bulloch nodded. It did make it easier, hearing the Efrosian’s words.
“Now, let’s go get Commander Kingsley.” Ra-Gorvalei left no doubt that it was an order.
* * * *
“We were looking for the shuttle bay,” Flores told Eskol. The Nelvian had led her and Jared into a nearby room. It was very large, housing a series of tanks and it was flavored with an odd smell.
A small smile crossed Eskol’s face. “You’re pretty far from there. You’ve managed to find Waste Reclamation,” he said, pointing to a small sign printed in the language of the Dominion.
Jared’s face reddened a bit. “What is all of this about a canister?,” he asked, changing the subject.
“Excuse me?” All of the humor left Eskol’s face.
“They kept asking me about that too,” Krissy said.
“And the First said something about a canister when I was with you in Samaritan’s shuttle bay back in the Badlands,” Jared added.
Eskol felt himself locking up like a reflex to interrogation. When he looked at the two young Humans, he saw no malice in their faces, just confusion and fear of a situation that he was the cause of. He didn't want to cause any more pain to the Federation or its citizens. He seemed to relax as if he was dropping a large weight. Looking at them, he spoke. “A horrible weapon has been created. One that will destroy the very soul of the Federation. A biological weapon designed to eradicate a race.”
“That’s what’s in the canister,” Krissy said, gasping.
“No! Not the disease, the cure,” Eskol explained. “I have created a cure.”
“Where is it now?,” Jared asked him.
The Nelvian was quiet for a moment. “The canister,” he finally said,” I left it behind on MN-1375.”
* * * *
“Something just picked up,” Shaw muttered under his breath.
“What was that, Chief?,” Burns asked. He had been listening to Mazik explain how if they could get someone to drop the force field, just for a second, it would be easy to keep it from coming up again. For that, they needed a communicator and everyone’s combadges had been confiscated when they were knocked out.
“Can’t you hear that? The EPS conduits… The power just kicked up something fierce. Only two things would require that much power. Either they just powered up weapons or this ship has gone to warp.”
Burns listened for a moment but he was unable to hear any difference in the ambient noise. He was about to ask exactly what he was supposed to be hearing, but a hand gruffly grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around.
Standing before him was an imposing figure. The man was tall and lean, looking hard like all of the weakness had been sheared off of his body. His face had the uneven flesh of a poorly healed burn creeping up the right side of his face from his neck to just below his cheekbone.
“You’re Burns?” It hardly sounded like a question. It was more like the man was commanding the young officer to assume the name. “You’re the one that they came for?”
Burns had an overwhelming urge to step backwards and he probably would have if he wasn’t already so close to the wall. “Uh… um, yeah,” he stammered. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”
“Major Powell,” he barked, snapping his head to the right and staring down the engineering crewman standing beside him. Mazik had been gawking at the Major’s burn. “Close shave with a disruptor bolt from a Jem’Hadar rifle,” Powell said, running his fingers over the scar.
“I apologize, sir. I didn’t realize your rank.” Burns motioned to the small circular pips on his collar, one gold and one black, indicating that he held the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade. The three pips that should have been on the Major’s collar, two gold and one black, were missing.
“I don’t wear uniform devices. On a clear day, light reflecting off of a combadge or rank insignia can be seen for miles. Those pips made good targets for the Jem’Hadar to aim at.” Major Powell cocked his head slightly to the left, exposing his deformed patch of skin to the junior officer. “I learned that the hard way.”
“Is there anything that I can help you with, Major?,” Burns asked.
“Why did they take you? What did you talk about?”
Burns briefly recounted his conversation with the Director, making sure to end each sentence with either Major or sir.
“They’ll be back in here, eventually, and I think that they’ll want to talk to you again,” Powell said. “I found a couple of my people around here. When they come to get you again, we’ll be ready to make our move.”
“Your move, sir?,” Burns asked.
“When the guard lets you out, we’re going to rush him. Do you have a better idea?” The tone of the question didn’t ask for a response.
“Lieutenant, what about bringing down the force fields?,” Mazik asked Burns.
“The decision has been made, Crewman!,” Powell snapped at the Roylan. He shot a piercing glance at Burns, who said nothing. He just sat down on the bench next to the Chief. Powell turned to collect his people.
“I guess that’s it. The pressure is off of you. The crew can look to Powell for leadership,” the Chief said to Burns under his breath.
Burns looked around the cell. The crew had obviously noticed the confrontation or the lack of it. They moved out of Powell’s way and looked toward him as the major passed by them. Burns recognized the doctors, the nurses, and the technicians. He saw Mazik. The crewman was looking helplessly back at him.
Burns stood and inhaled deeply. “Major,” he called out.
Powell stopped and turned.
“Have you been medically cleared for duty?”
Powell covered the ground between himself and the junior officer at a surprising pace. “What?”
“You were a patient aboard the Samaritan, sir. Have you been medically cleared for duty?”
“What the hell are you doing, Lieutenant Junior Grade? Look at where we are! We’re in a cell, put here by our own government, and you’re making a power play!”
“Sir, these people are my crew. I cannot in good conscience turn over their welfare to an officer who has been taken off of active duty for medical reasons.” Burns felt like his knees were about to buckle, but he stood his ground, staring straight back at the major.
“And what do you suggest that we do?”
“Crewman Mazik has a plan to disable the force fields.” Burns motioned towards the technician. The Roylan was unsuccessfully trying to hide his face.
“And then?” Powell was actually asking a question.
“Well,” Burns said,” then you and your men rush the guard.”
Powell didn’t smile, but his grimace was momentarily gone. “Can I do anything else to help?”
“Not now, unless you happen to have a combadge.” Burns couldn’t believe that he had just stared down a major and now he was making a joke.
Powell reached into his pocket and pulled out a combadge. “It doesn’t work. There’s some sort of dampening field around the cell,” he said, holding out the badge. Mazik stepped forward and took the device. Both Burns and the crewman stared at the major, a bit perplexed. “I told you that I don’t wear uniform devices. I guess our captors forgot to check our pockets.”
* * * *
“They certainly did a number on you,” Kingsley said. Ra-Gorvalei grunted as his superior officer pressed on his ribs. “Does it hurt when you inhale?”
“Sir,” he protested,” we really must get moving.”
“Don’t be proud. I’m a doctor and I want to know if you’re going to aggravate any injury in our flight that I’ll have to deal with.”
The Efrosian acquiesced. “Whenever I move, I feel discomfort where I was hit.”
“Good. you have some nice contusions, but nothing terribly serious.” Kingsley took his hands off of the XO and moved past him towards the door of the cell. He turned back and looked quizzically at him. “Aren’t you coming? I thought we had to get moving.”
The passageway outside Kingsley’s cell was at the corner of a T-shaped intersection of corridors. Ra-Gorvalei checked each direction before turning towards Bulloch. “Which way did Yelgrun go?”
“To the left.” Bullock pointed down one of the corridors of the T-shaped intersection.
“Then we’re going right.”
“Wait,” Kingsley said. The other two officers stopped. “What’s down the hall behind us?”
“It looks like more cells, sir,” Bulloch said.
“It’s unlikely that there’s an avenue for escape in that direction, and Jem’Hadar guards could very well be patrolling those passageways,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
“There may be more prisoners from the Samaritan down there. Don’t we owe it to them to, at least, take a look?,” Kingsley asked him.
“Aye, sir.” Ra-Gorvalei started down the corridor behind them.
“That was easy,” Kingsley said quietly to Bulloch.
“You’re the Skipper, sir,” Bulloch said, and followed the Efrosian down the corridor. And Kingsley took up the rear.
* * * *
Bulloch stood up, his engineer’s obsession with mechanical order taking over. It was a crick or a rattle. Something was moving that wasn’t supposed to.
The interior of the cell was smooth. There was a bench that also served as a bed, but every surface was perfectly smooth and machined to fit precisely in its place. In one corner of the small room, the rattle and crick was clearly getting louder. He looked up to see an air vent. He stepped up on the bench and reached up towards the vent, standing on his toes. The tip of his finger touched the corner of the vent, a shock coursing through his body. He soon found himself lying on the floor, completely sore, and with a burned fingertip. However, he was sure about one thing – the grate over the vent had moved!
Bulloch stepped up onto the bench again. He braced himself before leaping for the vent. His fingers looped through the grate, and the shock was much more intense this time. He wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious but when he came to, there was a grate in his hands and a hole in the ceiling.
With the grate gone, the circuit was broken. The third time that Bulloch leaped for the vent, he caught the edge and pulled himself up. With no frame of reference as to where he was, the engineer picked a direction and began crawling on his belly.
* * * *
“His condolences?” Shaw didn’t understand it. “Did he think that I was dead?”
“I’m not sure,” Burns admitted. “I was distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about what the director had told me about Eskol, and about the others.”
“It doesn’t make sense, Lieutenant. Why would he ask you about me and no one else? Why wouldn’t he assume that I defected with the rest of the command staff?”
“You really think that they defected, Chief?”
“Hell, no. How many defectors do you know that destroy three Jem’Hadar assault ships? If they did go aboard that Dominion ship, it wasn’t of their own accord.”
Burns stood up and paced with frustration. “But why? Why take them?”
The Chief looked back through all that they had been through since MN-1375. One of his last memories of sight struck him. Everyone on the command staff, save for Burns, and two doctors were standing in Samaritan’s Sickbay, arguing over what to do with an injured Jem’Hadar soldier. He also remembered seeing one fully recovered patient with them.
“Eskol,” he muttered.
Burns stopped his pacing. “What was that, Chief?”
“Have you ever met Eskol?,” Shaw asked him. “Ever talked with him?”
Burns sat down on the bench and thought for a moment. “No. Everything that I know about him comes from filing the ship’s official reports.”
Shaw nodded. “I know for a fact that everyone taken has met him.”
“Then why weren’t you taken?,” Burns wondered.
“I don’t know, sir. Maybe because I’m a patient. Maybe they just didn’t have enough time to find me.”
* * * *
Crawling through the cramped ventilation shaft, Bulloch was reminded of a popular joke at Starfleet Academy’s Advanced Engineering School about the Federation’s best engineers being less than 5’9. There were a surprisingly high number of short instructors at the school. It was rumored that a former student quantified the phenomenon, as engineers often did, by calculating the mean height of Starfleet engineers holding the rank of Lieutenant Commander or above. The story goes that the average was slightly below five feet, nine inches, and it was found that the majority of personnel to transfer out of engineering upon reaching the rank were above the mean. While no specific reason was ever determined, every engineer who spent time in a Jefferies tube or a ventilation shaft like Bulloch knew exactly why the job was better suited for shorter people.
At present, it wasn’t the size of the space that made Bulloch uncomfortable. His apprehension came from that space being inside of an enemy vessel. He continued crawling along on his belly. He looked through a vent and saw an empty corridor. He was about to open the vent until he heard something, a voice that he recognized. He carefully inched forward, trying to minimize the noise that he made, rounding a ninety-degree bend in the shaft. There was another vent, and he could hear the voice much more clearly.
“What have you done with my patients? With my ship?,” the voice asked. Bulloch peaked through the grating and saw that it was Lieutenant Commander Kingsley.
Then another voice came, one that sent chills down the Ensign’s spine. “Please, Doctor, let’s try to stay on topic. Where is the canister?” The low, calm voice came from Yelgrun.
Bulloch thought back to his own interrogation and his betrayal. Seeing another vent slightly further down the shaft, he quietly moved on.
“I don’t know about a canister. Where is my medical staff? What have you done with my crew?,” Bulloch heard Kingsley saying as he moved on.
Peering through the next vent, Bulloch saw another cell. There was a white-haired man sitting in the middle of the cell, looking down at the floor. The engineer might not have known who it was if it wasn’t for the slight cranial ridges.
“Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei,” he called out quietly to him.
The Efrosian jumped to his feet and turned around. Bulloch could see that the skin of his superior officer’s face had been rendered purple with bruises. “Ensign Bulloch?” He was looking back and forth from empty wall to empty wall.
“Up here, in the vent.”
“Are you all right?,” Ra-Gorvalei asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you seen anyone else from the Samaritan?”
“The CO is one room over, being interrogated.”
“Can you get these doors open?”
“I passed a vent to the corridor. I can open them from there.”
Ra-Gorvalei nodded. “Excellent. Wait for Yelgrun and the guards to leave Commander Kingsley’s cell. Then drop down to the corridor and let us out.”
* * * *
“Where are we going?,” Krissy asked as they continued down the corridor.
“The shuttle bay,” said Jared.
“Are you sure you know where it is?”
“No idea,” Jared said while motioning for her to get against the bulkhead. He cautiously peeked around the corridor before jerking his head back when he saw a Jem’Hadar soldier walking down the passageway. “One’s coming,” he whispered.
“Who’s there?, called out the Jem’Hadar.
Taking a deep breath, he looked at Flores.
“No,” she mouthed, knowing instantly what he was planning to do.
Jared raised the rifle so he was staring down at the bore. He spun around the corner and aimed his weapon at the Jem’Hadar, who was now lying motionless, his face down on the deck.
“Ensign Parker, what are you doing here?” Eskol seemed to materialize out of thin air as his skin changed from the color of the corridor to flesh tones.
* * * *
In the Federation cell, it seemed that everywhere that Burns looked, someone was just looking away. “It’s weird, Chief. I get the feeling that everyone is staring at him.”
“They are,” Shaw said. “The engineering techs all know who you are. The doctors have seen you with Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei and the skipper around the ship. They’re all waiting for you.”
“To do what?,” asked Burns.
“Anything. With the Skipper and the XO gone, like it or not, you’re the Commanding Officer, USS Samaritan. These people are your crew. They’re locked in a cell,” Shaw answered,” and they’re waiting for you to tell them what to do.”
Burns stood up and slowly paced the cell. He crossed his arms and stared at the ground. He felt eyes boring into him. Looking up, immediately their pupils scattered, but they kept peeking back at him. He recognized the owner of one pair of eyes that kept stealing glances at him.
“Crewman Mazik,” he called out.
The Roylan snapped up straight and hurried over to Burns. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you think that you and the engineering technicians could figure out a way to shut down these force fields?”
Mazik nodded. “We can sure try, sir.”
* * * *
Bulloch’s hand hovered above the door control, as he thought back to Sickbay, days ago. He remembered how he couldn’t bring himself to vent the atmosphere and his roommate. He had chosen Jared over the ship. Luckily, Ra-Gorvalei had been there to save them all. He thought back to his interrogation with Yelgrun and his great betrayal. Could the Lieutenant save him again?
He pressed the control. The Efrosian on the other side had obviously been beaten severely but he moved as if nothing had happened. “Where’s Commander Kingsley?,” he asked.
“Next door, sir,” Bulloch replied. “I wanted to speak with you first, sir.”
Ra-Gorvalei studied Bullock for a moment. “Quickly.”
Bulloch drew a deep breath. He had to confess. “When I was being interrogated, the Vorta, Yelgrun, said that he would kill Ensign Parker if I didn’t talk.”
“Our main concern is escape. The faster that we can return to Federation space and be debriefed, the less damaging any information that you shared will be,” Ra-Gorvalei said, curtly, emphasizing that the conversation was over.
Bulloch shook his head and looked at the ground. “You don’t understand, sir. I let Jared die.”
Ra-Gorvalei grabbed him by the shoulders and locked his eyes with the engineer. “Listen to me. You didn’t kill Ensign Parker, the Dominion did. Do you understand? It’s not your fault.”
Bulloch nodded. It did make it easier, hearing the Efrosian’s words.
“Now, let’s go get Commander Kingsley.” Ra-Gorvalei left no doubt that it was an order.
* * * *
“We were looking for the shuttle bay,” Flores told Eskol. The Nelvian had led her and Jared into a nearby room. It was very large, housing a series of tanks and it was flavored with an odd smell.
A small smile crossed Eskol’s face. “You’re pretty far from there. You’ve managed to find Waste Reclamation,” he said, pointing to a small sign printed in the language of the Dominion.
Jared’s face reddened a bit. “What is all of this about a canister?,” he asked, changing the subject.
“Excuse me?” All of the humor left Eskol’s face.
“They kept asking me about that too,” Krissy said.
“And the First said something about a canister when I was with you in Samaritan’s shuttle bay back in the Badlands,” Jared added.
Eskol felt himself locking up like a reflex to interrogation. When he looked at the two young Humans, he saw no malice in their faces, just confusion and fear of a situation that he was the cause of. He didn't want to cause any more pain to the Federation or its citizens. He seemed to relax as if he was dropping a large weight. Looking at them, he spoke. “A horrible weapon has been created. One that will destroy the very soul of the Federation. A biological weapon designed to eradicate a race.”
“That’s what’s in the canister,” Krissy said, gasping.
“No! Not the disease, the cure,” Eskol explained. “I have created a cure.”
“Where is it now?,” Jared asked him.
The Nelvian was quiet for a moment. “The canister,” he finally said,” I left it behind on MN-1375.”
* * * *
“Something just picked up,” Shaw muttered under his breath.
“What was that, Chief?,” Burns asked. He had been listening to Mazik explain how if they could get someone to drop the force field, just for a second, it would be easy to keep it from coming up again. For that, they needed a communicator and everyone’s combadges had been confiscated when they were knocked out.
“Can’t you hear that? The EPS conduits… The power just kicked up something fierce. Only two things would require that much power. Either they just powered up weapons or this ship has gone to warp.”
Burns listened for a moment but he was unable to hear any difference in the ambient noise. He was about to ask exactly what he was supposed to be hearing, but a hand gruffly grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around.
Standing before him was an imposing figure. The man was tall and lean, looking hard like all of the weakness had been sheared off of his body. His face had the uneven flesh of a poorly healed burn creeping up the right side of his face from his neck to just below his cheekbone.
“You’re Burns?” It hardly sounded like a question. It was more like the man was commanding the young officer to assume the name. “You’re the one that they came for?”
Burns had an overwhelming urge to step backwards and he probably would have if he wasn’t already so close to the wall. “Uh… um, yeah,” he stammered. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”
“Major Powell,” he barked, snapping his head to the right and staring down the engineering crewman standing beside him. Mazik had been gawking at the Major’s burn. “Close shave with a disruptor bolt from a Jem’Hadar rifle,” Powell said, running his fingers over the scar.
“I apologize, sir. I didn’t realize your rank.” Burns motioned to the small circular pips on his collar, one gold and one black, indicating that he held the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade. The three pips that should have been on the Major’s collar, two gold and one black, were missing.
“I don’t wear uniform devices. On a clear day, light reflecting off of a combadge or rank insignia can be seen for miles. Those pips made good targets for the Jem’Hadar to aim at.” Major Powell cocked his head slightly to the left, exposing his deformed patch of skin to the junior officer. “I learned that the hard way.”
“Is there anything that I can help you with, Major?,” Burns asked.
“Why did they take you? What did you talk about?”
Burns briefly recounted his conversation with the Director, making sure to end each sentence with either Major or sir.
“They’ll be back in here, eventually, and I think that they’ll want to talk to you again,” Powell said. “I found a couple of my people around here. When they come to get you again, we’ll be ready to make our move.”
“Your move, sir?,” Burns asked.
“When the guard lets you out, we’re going to rush him. Do you have a better idea?” The tone of the question didn’t ask for a response.
“Lieutenant, what about bringing down the force fields?,” Mazik asked Burns.
“The decision has been made, Crewman!,” Powell snapped at the Roylan. He shot a piercing glance at Burns, who said nothing. He just sat down on the bench next to the Chief. Powell turned to collect his people.
“I guess that’s it. The pressure is off of you. The crew can look to Powell for leadership,” the Chief said to Burns under his breath.
Burns looked around the cell. The crew had obviously noticed the confrontation or the lack of it. They moved out of Powell’s way and looked toward him as the major passed by them. Burns recognized the doctors, the nurses, and the technicians. He saw Mazik. The crewman was looking helplessly back at him.
Burns stood and inhaled deeply. “Major,” he called out.
Powell stopped and turned.
“Have you been medically cleared for duty?”
Powell covered the ground between himself and the junior officer at a surprising pace. “What?”
“You were a patient aboard the Samaritan, sir. Have you been medically cleared for duty?”
“What the hell are you doing, Lieutenant Junior Grade? Look at where we are! We’re in a cell, put here by our own government, and you’re making a power play!”
“Sir, these people are my crew. I cannot in good conscience turn over their welfare to an officer who has been taken off of active duty for medical reasons.” Burns felt like his knees were about to buckle, but he stood his ground, staring straight back at the major.
“And what do you suggest that we do?”
“Crewman Mazik has a plan to disable the force fields.” Burns motioned towards the technician. The Roylan was unsuccessfully trying to hide his face.
“And then?” Powell was actually asking a question.
“Well,” Burns said,” then you and your men rush the guard.”
Powell didn’t smile, but his grimace was momentarily gone. “Can I do anything else to help?”
“Not now, unless you happen to have a combadge.” Burns couldn’t believe that he had just stared down a major and now he was making a joke.
Powell reached into his pocket and pulled out a combadge. “It doesn’t work. There’s some sort of dampening field around the cell,” he said, holding out the badge. Mazik stepped forward and took the device. Both Burns and the crewman stared at the major, a bit perplexed. “I told you that I don’t wear uniform devices. I guess our captors forgot to check our pockets.”
* * * *
“They certainly did a number on you,” Kingsley said. Ra-Gorvalei grunted as his superior officer pressed on his ribs. “Does it hurt when you inhale?”
“Sir,” he protested,” we really must get moving.”
“Don’t be proud. I’m a doctor and I want to know if you’re going to aggravate any injury in our flight that I’ll have to deal with.”
The Efrosian acquiesced. “Whenever I move, I feel discomfort where I was hit.”
“Good. you have some nice contusions, but nothing terribly serious.” Kingsley took his hands off of the XO and moved past him towards the door of the cell. He turned back and looked quizzically at him. “Aren’t you coming? I thought we had to get moving.”
The passageway outside Kingsley’s cell was at the corner of a T-shaped intersection of corridors. Ra-Gorvalei checked each direction before turning towards Bulloch. “Which way did Yelgrun go?”
“To the left.” Bullock pointed down one of the corridors of the T-shaped intersection.
“Then we’re going right.”
“Wait,” Kingsley said. The other two officers stopped. “What’s down the hall behind us?”
“It looks like more cells, sir,” Bulloch said.
“It’s unlikely that there’s an avenue for escape in that direction, and Jem’Hadar guards could very well be patrolling those passageways,” Ra-Gorvalei said.
“There may be more prisoners from the Samaritan down there. Don’t we owe it to them to, at least, take a look?,” Kingsley asked him.
“Aye, sir.” Ra-Gorvalei started down the corridor behind them.
“That was easy,” Kingsley said quietly to Bulloch.
“You’re the Skipper, sir,” Bulloch said, and followed the Efrosian down the corridor. And Kingsley took up the rear.
* * * *
“Is something wrong?,” Burns asked. Mazik and another technician had been exchanging frustrated whispers.
Mazik looked up from the bench where he was on with the combadge in front of him and his friend. The badge’s cover had been removed and the isolinear circuitry was exposed. “Sir, we’ve almost got it set right but…”
Burns squatted down next to the bench. He was a bit lower than the Roylan and he had to look up to talk to him. “But what?”
“We need a couple of metal pieces. Small pieces that are just long enough to make contact with the force field and keep the circuit away from it. We don’t have anything like that.” Mazik dropped his head in defeat.
Burns shifted on his haunches when he heard someone step towards him. He turned to be faced with a pair of knees. He stood again to greet the newcomer. “Nurse Haas? Can I help you?”
The woman put her hands behind her head. When her arms came back down, she shook her head from side to side, and her tightly wound hair bun fell loose and free. He felt slightly uncomfortable until he handed him two thin, straight, metal hairpins.
“Thanks.” Burns hands the pins to Mazik who immediately went back to work.
“Problem?,” asked a gruff voice.
“Not anymore, Major,” he assured him. “We just have to be ready when they drop that force field again.”
* * * *
Sovek considered the room that he was in. It didn’t have a computer terminal or a replicator. The bed was made of hard metal, but the Vulcan didn’t think of it as an overly cruel place to be kept. Vulcans usually chose such Spartan quarters voluntarily, although a computer terminal was deemed to be quite valuable. Had he possessed a sense of humor, he might have thought that it was amusing that other species were so distressed by a room that simply lacked the luxuries that Federation citizens had come to expect.
Even though he didn’t think that the cell was inhospitable, he did welcome his door opening to reveal Doctor Kingsley, Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei, and Ensign Bulloch. The wellbeing of other possible prisoners aboard the Dominion ship had been of some concern.
“Doctor Sovek!,” Kingsley exclaimed. “Are you okay? Did those beasts harm you?”
“I am in good health, Doctor Kingsley,” the Vulcan responded. “Our captors attempted to use logic to draw out information from me. However, their reasoning was flawed, and their attempts failed.”
* * * *
“But we came from this direction,” Jared protested. “We could be heading straight towards any Jem’Hadar who are following the trail of bodies that we left behind.”
“Possibly,” Eskol explained,” but this is the way to the shuttle bay. I know of no other route.”
“Do you really think that we can get away?,” Krissy asked. “Will a shuttle be able to escape from a warship?”
“I got a pretty good feel for their firing arcs when this ship attacked Samaritan. I know where the holes are and shuttles are pretty agile,” Jared assured her.
“You’re not going to have to worry about their firing arcs, Ensign,” Eskol said. “They won’t destroy the shuttle. Not with me on it.”
“Why not you?,” Jared asked. “Wouldn’t they want to stop the man with the cure to their weapon?”
“No. Their first goal is recovering the canister. It’s all that they care about.”
“The weapon,” Krissy asked,” what race will it affect?”
Eskol looked at Flores. He couldn’t tell if the fear on her face was at the possibility that the answer to her question might be Humans or if she was just frightened from being on an enemy ship. Either way, he knew that his answer wouldn’t quell any of their fears.
“I can’t tell you any more. It would compromise my mission and put your lives in even greater danger than I already have.”
Eskol suddenly stopped walking and his skin changed to match the colors of the passageway. “Quiet,” he whispered. “Someone is coming.”
* * * *
Ra-Gorvalei was shoving his shipmates into a cell. He hadn’t heard anything but a Vulcan’s hearing was renowned, and he was going to trust Sovek in this instance. He was about to follow them in when he saw the glint of a rifle barrel come around the corner. He pressed the door control, shutting his people inside. He stepped back away from the door and he didn’t dare to look back at it.
With a rifle being pointed at his chest, Ra-Gorvalei could look at little more. It was not until the barrel lowered and hung loosely at its bearer’s side that he realized that he had no reason to fear.
“Ensign Parker?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jared said sheepishly. “I thought you were a Jem’Hadar.”
“Likewise,” Ra-Gorvalei replied, pressing the lock release on the cell door. Kingsley, Bulloch, and Sovek came out into the passageway and Flores came around the corner. Eskol was already standing near Jared, unnoticed, until he changed his skin to the flesh tones that the crew had become used to.
“This is a happy coincidence,” Kingsley said. “I wish there was some way of telling if anyone else from the crew is here.”
“Possibly Chief Shaw, but I doubt that any of the others would be useful prospects to our captors,” Sovek said.
“Why the Chief?,” asked Bulloch.
“With the exception of Chief Shaw and the Jem’Hadar First, all of those who were present in the Samaritan’s Sickbay when we escaped from the Badlands are present here now.”
“Damn,” Ra-Gorvalei muttered under his breath, causing everyone to turn towards him, their looks demanding a response. “I just realized that I forgot to switch Chief Shaw’s status from active duty to medical inactive in the ship’s official log.”
Kingsley patted the XO on the shoulder. “I’ll overlook it this time, Mister Ra-Gorvalei,” he joked.
* * * *
They had been standing ready since Mazik had finished modifying the combadge, but the alertness and excitement of the first twenty minutes of waiting had worn on everyone involved in the plan. When the door to the cell did open, it was completely unexpected, and yet still more of a relief than a surprise.
Burns stood at the force field and stared at the guard. Major Powell and his two men sat behind him on the bench, their muscles tight, but looking as nonchalant as war-hardened men could. Mazik tried his best to stand as if he didn’t have a combadge under the toe of his boot.
“You need to talk to me again?,” Burns hollered at the guard.
The guard walked over to the force field that Burns was standing behind. “The Deputy Director wants to know why you lied to him.”
“Lied?”
“Chief Shaw is alive,” the guard said. “You told the director that he was killed when your vessel encountered the battleship.”
“I told him that the panel that the Chief was sitting by exploded, and then your director ordered you to lock me up in here again,” Burns said. “He wasn’t killed. He was injured.”
“I’ll be back,” the guard said and began to walk away.
“Would you like to talk to him? He’s right here.” Burns held his breath and willed the guard to turn around.
The guard didn’t turn around, but he did stop. He brought his wrist to his mouth and muttered into a wrist communicator. He waited for a reply before walking over to the console standing in the middle of the room.
“Chief Shaw, please step forward,” the guard called out.
“I’m not moving for you,” Shaw muttered to himself.
“Stay where you are and keep quiet,” Burns whispered to the Chief as he passed by where he was sitting on the bench. He stopped in front of Major Powell, grabbed him by the arm, and whispered into his ear. “Remember you’re blind.”
He looked at the major’s collar, grateful that he wasn’t wearing his insignia. As they slowly walked towards the force field, Burns stole a glance at Mazik. The crewman’s eyestalks were staring back intently, waiting for his moment. The guard pressed a control on the console and the force field in front of Burns and Powell was deactivated. The junior officer led the major across the threshold of the cell.
“Stand back!,” the guard ordered Burns.
“The Chief was blinded from his injuries. He can’t get around on his own,” Burns explained, gesturing to the major’s neck. “He’s got a pretty nasty scar too.”
“Stand back. I will tend to Chief Shaw!” As the guard hollered back, he was completely oblivious to the foot of an engineering technician sliding a combadge just to the edge of the force field’s threshold.
Burns reluctantly acquiesced to the guard’s demands. As soon as he was behind the threshold again, the guard pressed a control to raise the force field again. The air in front of him briefly glowed blue as it had before. Then it was clear again.
Burns looked at Mazik again, shrugging ever so slightly. Did it work? The Roylan leaned up against a column and let one of his arms swing loosely to his side. He watched as the crewman’s hand swung slowly across the force field threshold and back again.
Nothing had stopped it.
The guard was now grabbing Major Powell by the arm. “Let’s go, Chief,” he commanded. He felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He reeled around and looked at Burns in bewilderment. “What the…”
The guard’s words were cut short as Major Powell’s trained hand came down hard across his captor’s neck. The guard collapsed unconscious on the floor and the major relieved him of his sidearm.
A small cheer went up from the rest of the prisoners, but Burns gestured for them all to be quiet. “Get the rest of the force fields down, and see if you can shut down that communications dampening field,” he ordered Mazik, motioning to the console. “And see if you can find out anything about this ship.”
* * * *
“Curious,” Sovek said after everyone had recounted their experiences since waking up aboard the Dominion ship.
“What’s that, Doctor Sovek?,” Kingsley asked.
“I have been attempting to construct a timeline of events in my mind, and it appears that Ensign Parker shot Yelgrun before Ensign Bulloch observed the Vorta questioning you in your cell.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Jared said. “I must have shot Yelgrun just after Bull saw him.”
“I don’t understand why I was the only one that they used the pain probes on,” Flores said. “Not that I would wish it on anyone else.”
Eskol put a hand on Krissy’s shoulder. “They created psychological profiles on all of us. Based on those profiles, they used the method of interrogation that was most likely to yield information.” He turned back to the rest of the group. “However, they’re pressed for time. Friendly questioning, if you can call it that, pitting us against one another, or more elaborate non-interrogator questioning are more effective interrogation techniques, but they take far longer.”
“It’s over now. Yelgrun is dead, and he won’t be conducting any more interrogations,” Bulloch said before turning towards Eskol. “It looks like you won’t have to worry about the Devil anymore. Now we just have to get out of this hell.”
“Yelgrun is not whom I was referring to in our previous conversation, Ensign,” Eskol said. “And while unpleasant, a Dominion ship is not the Devil’s domain. Hell is a place where truths that you are certain of are twisted into lies until your entire world is nothing but deception.”
“Twisted truths? Deception? The Vulcan’s timeline isn’t the only thing that doesn’t make sense,” Ra-Gorvalei said. “Eskol is lying to us. He’s lied to us since we picked him up.”
“What are you talking about, Efrosian?”
“You don’t have a cure to any disease. If that’s what you were being pursued for, you would have told us immediately, not now. Not here, after we’ve been captured.”
“There was no reason for you to know,” Eskol shot back. “If this information gets out, it could cause a mass panic across the Federation.”
“The Federation is in the middle of a war that it is losing. There already is mass panic. You say that you have the cure to a devastating weapon. If anything, it would boost morale across the Federation. It would show that we aren’t vulnerable to every line of Dominion attack.” Ra-Gorvalei’s professional exterior was beginning to crack under the immense anger that he was trying to suppress.
“I dared not say anything,” Eskol said. “The cure is not yet complete.”
“I thought that an intelligence officer was trained to use all assets available to them. You were aboard a hospital ship, with access to all kinds of doctors and medical equipment, and you didn’t dare to mention that you were working on a cure to a disease that could wipe out an entire race?” Ra-Gorvalei was fuming.
“He doesn’t have the canister anymore,” Jared said.
“He told us that he left it on MN-1375,” Flores added.
Ra-Gorvalei inhaled. His chest cavity expanded as if it were going to explode but Kingsley stopped him with a look. “Lieutenant,” the CO said calmly,” this isn’t helping our present situation.” He turned towards Eskol. “Is there any way that we can use this information? Maybe tell the Dominion where the canister is in exchange for our freedom. Then we could help you synthesize and complete the cure after we return to a Starbase.”
“The canister is on MN-1375, but it’s empty,” Eskol replied. “Do you honestly think that I would leave the salvation of the Federation on some rock in space?”
* * * *
Mazik looked up from the bench where he was on with the combadge in front of him and his friend. The badge’s cover had been removed and the isolinear circuitry was exposed. “Sir, we’ve almost got it set right but…”
Burns squatted down next to the bench. He was a bit lower than the Roylan and he had to look up to talk to him. “But what?”
“We need a couple of metal pieces. Small pieces that are just long enough to make contact with the force field and keep the circuit away from it. We don’t have anything like that.” Mazik dropped his head in defeat.
Burns shifted on his haunches when he heard someone step towards him. He turned to be faced with a pair of knees. He stood again to greet the newcomer. “Nurse Haas? Can I help you?”
The woman put her hands behind her head. When her arms came back down, she shook her head from side to side, and her tightly wound hair bun fell loose and free. He felt slightly uncomfortable until he handed him two thin, straight, metal hairpins.
“Thanks.” Burns hands the pins to Mazik who immediately went back to work.
“Problem?,” asked a gruff voice.
“Not anymore, Major,” he assured him. “We just have to be ready when they drop that force field again.”
* * * *
Sovek considered the room that he was in. It didn’t have a computer terminal or a replicator. The bed was made of hard metal, but the Vulcan didn’t think of it as an overly cruel place to be kept. Vulcans usually chose such Spartan quarters voluntarily, although a computer terminal was deemed to be quite valuable. Had he possessed a sense of humor, he might have thought that it was amusing that other species were so distressed by a room that simply lacked the luxuries that Federation citizens had come to expect.
Even though he didn’t think that the cell was inhospitable, he did welcome his door opening to reveal Doctor Kingsley, Lieutenant Ra-Gorvalei, and Ensign Bulloch. The wellbeing of other possible prisoners aboard the Dominion ship had been of some concern.
“Doctor Sovek!,” Kingsley exclaimed. “Are you okay? Did those beasts harm you?”
“I am in good health, Doctor Kingsley,” the Vulcan responded. “Our captors attempted to use logic to draw out information from me. However, their reasoning was flawed, and their attempts failed.”
* * * *
“But we came from this direction,” Jared protested. “We could be heading straight towards any Jem’Hadar who are following the trail of bodies that we left behind.”
“Possibly,” Eskol explained,” but this is the way to the shuttle bay. I know of no other route.”
“Do you really think that we can get away?,” Krissy asked. “Will a shuttle be able to escape from a warship?”
“I got a pretty good feel for their firing arcs when this ship attacked Samaritan. I know where the holes are and shuttles are pretty agile,” Jared assured her.
“You’re not going to have to worry about their firing arcs, Ensign,” Eskol said. “They won’t destroy the shuttle. Not with me on it.”
“Why not you?,” Jared asked. “Wouldn’t they want to stop the man with the cure to their weapon?”
“No. Their first goal is recovering the canister. It’s all that they care about.”
“The weapon,” Krissy asked,” what race will it affect?”
Eskol looked at Flores. He couldn’t tell if the fear on her face was at the possibility that the answer to her question might be Humans or if she was just frightened from being on an enemy ship. Either way, he knew that his answer wouldn’t quell any of their fears.
“I can’t tell you any more. It would compromise my mission and put your lives in even greater danger than I already have.”
Eskol suddenly stopped walking and his skin changed to match the colors of the passageway. “Quiet,” he whispered. “Someone is coming.”
* * * *
Ra-Gorvalei was shoving his shipmates into a cell. He hadn’t heard anything but a Vulcan’s hearing was renowned, and he was going to trust Sovek in this instance. He was about to follow them in when he saw the glint of a rifle barrel come around the corner. He pressed the door control, shutting his people inside. He stepped back away from the door and he didn’t dare to look back at it.
With a rifle being pointed at his chest, Ra-Gorvalei could look at little more. It was not until the barrel lowered and hung loosely at its bearer’s side that he realized that he had no reason to fear.
“Ensign Parker?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jared said sheepishly. “I thought you were a Jem’Hadar.”
“Likewise,” Ra-Gorvalei replied, pressing the lock release on the cell door. Kingsley, Bulloch, and Sovek came out into the passageway and Flores came around the corner. Eskol was already standing near Jared, unnoticed, until he changed his skin to the flesh tones that the crew had become used to.
“This is a happy coincidence,” Kingsley said. “I wish there was some way of telling if anyone else from the crew is here.”
“Possibly Chief Shaw, but I doubt that any of the others would be useful prospects to our captors,” Sovek said.
“Why the Chief?,” asked Bulloch.
“With the exception of Chief Shaw and the Jem’Hadar First, all of those who were present in the Samaritan’s Sickbay when we escaped from the Badlands are present here now.”
“Damn,” Ra-Gorvalei muttered under his breath, causing everyone to turn towards him, their looks demanding a response. “I just realized that I forgot to switch Chief Shaw’s status from active duty to medical inactive in the ship’s official log.”
Kingsley patted the XO on the shoulder. “I’ll overlook it this time, Mister Ra-Gorvalei,” he joked.
* * * *
They had been standing ready since Mazik had finished modifying the combadge, but the alertness and excitement of the first twenty minutes of waiting had worn on everyone involved in the plan. When the door to the cell did open, it was completely unexpected, and yet still more of a relief than a surprise.
Burns stood at the force field and stared at the guard. Major Powell and his two men sat behind him on the bench, their muscles tight, but looking as nonchalant as war-hardened men could. Mazik tried his best to stand as if he didn’t have a combadge under the toe of his boot.
“You need to talk to me again?,” Burns hollered at the guard.
The guard walked over to the force field that Burns was standing behind. “The Deputy Director wants to know why you lied to him.”
“Lied?”
“Chief Shaw is alive,” the guard said. “You told the director that he was killed when your vessel encountered the battleship.”
“I told him that the panel that the Chief was sitting by exploded, and then your director ordered you to lock me up in here again,” Burns said. “He wasn’t killed. He was injured.”
“I’ll be back,” the guard said and began to walk away.
“Would you like to talk to him? He’s right here.” Burns held his breath and willed the guard to turn around.
The guard didn’t turn around, but he did stop. He brought his wrist to his mouth and muttered into a wrist communicator. He waited for a reply before walking over to the console standing in the middle of the room.
“Chief Shaw, please step forward,” the guard called out.
“I’m not moving for you,” Shaw muttered to himself.
“Stay where you are and keep quiet,” Burns whispered to the Chief as he passed by where he was sitting on the bench. He stopped in front of Major Powell, grabbed him by the arm, and whispered into his ear. “Remember you’re blind.”
He looked at the major’s collar, grateful that he wasn’t wearing his insignia. As they slowly walked towards the force field, Burns stole a glance at Mazik. The crewman’s eyestalks were staring back intently, waiting for his moment. The guard pressed a control on the console and the force field in front of Burns and Powell was deactivated. The junior officer led the major across the threshold of the cell.
“Stand back!,” the guard ordered Burns.
“The Chief was blinded from his injuries. He can’t get around on his own,” Burns explained, gesturing to the major’s neck. “He’s got a pretty nasty scar too.”
“Stand back. I will tend to Chief Shaw!” As the guard hollered back, he was completely oblivious to the foot of an engineering technician sliding a combadge just to the edge of the force field’s threshold.
Burns reluctantly acquiesced to the guard’s demands. As soon as he was behind the threshold again, the guard pressed a control to raise the force field again. The air in front of him briefly glowed blue as it had before. Then it was clear again.
Burns looked at Mazik again, shrugging ever so slightly. Did it work? The Roylan leaned up against a column and let one of his arms swing loosely to his side. He watched as the crewman’s hand swung slowly across the force field threshold and back again.
Nothing had stopped it.
The guard was now grabbing Major Powell by the arm. “Let’s go, Chief,” he commanded. He felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He reeled around and looked at Burns in bewilderment. “What the…”
The guard’s words were cut short as Major Powell’s trained hand came down hard across his captor’s neck. The guard collapsed unconscious on the floor and the major relieved him of his sidearm.
A small cheer went up from the rest of the prisoners, but Burns gestured for them all to be quiet. “Get the rest of the force fields down, and see if you can shut down that communications dampening field,” he ordered Mazik, motioning to the console. “And see if you can find out anything about this ship.”
* * * *
“Curious,” Sovek said after everyone had recounted their experiences since waking up aboard the Dominion ship.
“What’s that, Doctor Sovek?,” Kingsley asked.
“I have been attempting to construct a timeline of events in my mind, and it appears that Ensign Parker shot Yelgrun before Ensign Bulloch observed the Vorta questioning you in your cell.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Jared said. “I must have shot Yelgrun just after Bull saw him.”
“I don’t understand why I was the only one that they used the pain probes on,” Flores said. “Not that I would wish it on anyone else.”
Eskol put a hand on Krissy’s shoulder. “They created psychological profiles on all of us. Based on those profiles, they used the method of interrogation that was most likely to yield information.” He turned back to the rest of the group. “However, they’re pressed for time. Friendly questioning, if you can call it that, pitting us against one another, or more elaborate non-interrogator questioning are more effective interrogation techniques, but they take far longer.”
“It’s over now. Yelgrun is dead, and he won’t be conducting any more interrogations,” Bulloch said before turning towards Eskol. “It looks like you won’t have to worry about the Devil anymore. Now we just have to get out of this hell.”
“Yelgrun is not whom I was referring to in our previous conversation, Ensign,” Eskol said. “And while unpleasant, a Dominion ship is not the Devil’s domain. Hell is a place where truths that you are certain of are twisted into lies until your entire world is nothing but deception.”
“Twisted truths? Deception? The Vulcan’s timeline isn’t the only thing that doesn’t make sense,” Ra-Gorvalei said. “Eskol is lying to us. He’s lied to us since we picked him up.”
“What are you talking about, Efrosian?”
“You don’t have a cure to any disease. If that’s what you were being pursued for, you would have told us immediately, not now. Not here, after we’ve been captured.”
“There was no reason for you to know,” Eskol shot back. “If this information gets out, it could cause a mass panic across the Federation.”
“The Federation is in the middle of a war that it is losing. There already is mass panic. You say that you have the cure to a devastating weapon. If anything, it would boost morale across the Federation. It would show that we aren’t vulnerable to every line of Dominion attack.” Ra-Gorvalei’s professional exterior was beginning to crack under the immense anger that he was trying to suppress.
“I dared not say anything,” Eskol said. “The cure is not yet complete.”
“I thought that an intelligence officer was trained to use all assets available to them. You were aboard a hospital ship, with access to all kinds of doctors and medical equipment, and you didn’t dare to mention that you were working on a cure to a disease that could wipe out an entire race?” Ra-Gorvalei was fuming.
“He doesn’t have the canister anymore,” Jared said.
“He told us that he left it on MN-1375,” Flores added.
Ra-Gorvalei inhaled. His chest cavity expanded as if it were going to explode but Kingsley stopped him with a look. “Lieutenant,” the CO said calmly,” this isn’t helping our present situation.” He turned towards Eskol. “Is there any way that we can use this information? Maybe tell the Dominion where the canister is in exchange for our freedom. Then we could help you synthesize and complete the cure after we return to a Starbase.”
“The canister is on MN-1375, but it’s empty,” Eskol replied. “Do you honestly think that I would leave the salvation of the Federation on some rock in space?”
* * * *
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