Ship's Log: March 7

The deck seemed to shift beneath her bare feet. Steadying herself against the bed, she waited a moment until her vision cleared again. She glanced at the faces of the crewmembers rushing by, but recognized only a few of them immediately. Those she could identify she knew typically worked other shifts than she usually did. How long have I been out? Hours? Days?

She caught sight of the unmistakable figure of the First entering the infirmary. He regarded her for only the briefest moment before following the others into the corridor. Elizabeth noted that he was still in uniform, unusual if this really was the evening shift. A lot must be happening, she realized, if the First hasn't had time to "play".

A chorus of agitated voices echoed to her from the small corridor. She slowly made her way toward the sounds, frustrated by her own shuffling steps. Even as the last of sedation faded from her system, her body felt very slow to respond. She heard the sound of heavy pounding and then weapons fire. Elizabeth froze. There was a very brief moment of silence and then the cacophony of voices returned, sounding—if anything—even more imperative.

Had they located an intruder? she wondered. Or cornered the person—or persons—responsible for the murders and the attack on her? What was happening, there was little doubt as to the urgency in the tenor of the voices she heard.

She had nearly made it to the open hatchway that led to the corridor when she heard another, much louder, noise. It sounded like a barely contained explosion. Her ears, still not functioning correctly, rang. The klaxons squealed loudly for a moment in protest and then went silent. Ahead, the voices slowly returned, but they were not nearly as loud or numerous. Crewmembers began to file past her, moving with less immediacy, but their faces bore expressions of heavy concern.

The short flow of people ended. Elizabeth could still hear voices coming from down the corridor, so she continued on. She found the First and Fear engaged in conversation while a security officer and two engineering technicians waited almost at attention nearby.

"Sabotage." Elizabeth heard Fear say. Something in the alien's tone told her that Fear had repeated the word, this time more firmly.

Elizabeth looked beyond the two officers. The hatchway into one of the chambers had been blasted away. The rough, charred edges told her that it had been a rushed job. It would be a while before that chamber could be used for its original purpose again.

"Malfunctions happen," Thompson replied with forced casualness. Elizabeth could tell that he did not completely believe his own words.

"Frequently of late," Fear responded, her wide, dark eyes focused on Thompson's. "You will investigate."

Thompson was silent for a moment, and then a strange smile played quickly across his face. "As soon as I can free up someone to do," he said. He turned, glancing quickly around them. "Looks like you're going to be busy cleaning up for a while." He left without looking back at Fear. Passing Elizabeth, his eyes moved just enough to indicate that he was aware of her presence, but she received no further acknowledgment of her existence.

Elizabeth watched Fear. The alien's face remained mostly impassive, but Elizabeth saw something in the movement of her eyes that provoked a faint sense of uneasiness. Fear looked in her direction, apparently realized for the first time that Elizabeth was there.

"Return," Fear said. Her voice seemed even more cold and flat than usual. "You are not recovered."

Elizabeth remained still, considering whether to argue when a sudden wave of weakness passed over her. She nodded slowly, breaking contact with the Aerian's dark gaze. "Probably a good idea," she murmured, and began moving slowly back to the recovery bay.