Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Context: I wasn’t happy with how this was originally written. Hawkes is very much an internally-focused character, so I’m having trouble not so much wrapping my head around him as I am trying to make him interesting to the reader.

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Hawkes watched as Devereux silently stared at the main bridge displays. As Tactical Officer, his responsibilities on this mission had originally encompassed ensuring that the additional security arrangements requested by Colonel Antonio were in place. There had been little expectation that the ship’s weapons or defensive system would be needed during their brief test flight. Once that was done, there had been little for him to do but continue to monitor what had quickly become routine reports between the security posts. Not that he particularly minded. Routine was good, he had along ago concluded. It tended to prevent the unexpected. In space, unforeseen events usually resulted in disaster, often for both the vessel and its crew.

Fortunately, what had happened was not entirely unexpected. A failure of the prototype drive system had been discussed as one of the most likely outcomes of the test. However, based on success of the simulations in both the lab and smaller test vessels, it had been considered to have a low probability. Given that, Hawkes suspected was that no one had anticipated that it might fail in quite so dramatic a fashion.

Based on the status reports he had received so far, it appeared that they were fortunate. Other for the two casualties already reported by the ship’s physician, there appeared to be no other significant injuries among the crew. So far, reports from all other sections except for the main Engineering deck seemed to indicate no significant damage to the ship—although it was still unclear what had caused the injuries to the two affected crew members. Hawkes held little doubt that Hope’s report would be prompt and thorough.

“Captain,” Hawkes called out, his voice rising just slightly above its usual even timbre. “All reports so far indicate no significant damage to the ship, or its systems, outside of Engineering.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Devereux acknowledged, almost absently it seemed to Hawkes. Her gaze remained intent on the view displayed on the main screens. After waiting for a moment to see whether she would respond further, he turned his attention back to the updated status data that flashed onto the displays at his station. He officially logged his report and began studying the new reports.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” he offered with a tentative smile.

Elizabeth’s smile was genuine. “It’s okay, Ensign,” she told him, trying to keep her tone light and encouraging. “I’m sure you’ll remember next time.”

She knew from experience that it would be a while before he forgot again.

“Here,” she said, pulling a tool from her own case. “I’ll give you a hand.”

#

Hawkes watched as Devereux stared at the main bridge displays. Until a few moments ago, he had felt that his participation was generally unnecessary to the successful completion of their mission. Once the additional security arrangements requested by Colonel Antonio were in place, there was little for him to do but continue to monitor what had quickly become routine reports between the security posts. There was only so much one Tactical Officer could do on a mission where the need for weapons and combat experience was not expected.

Routine was good, he had along ago decided. It provided stability and tended to prevent surprises. In space, an unexpected event could result in disaster for a ship and its crew. His experiences of such crises provided him with ample motivation to do everything in his realm of influence to avoid them. Such drove him now as he collected the status reports coming in from all sections of the ship. Other than for the information coming from the main Engineering deck—and their frustrating, if usual, lack of detail—the remainder of the ship and crew seemed to experience little more than a rough transition from slipstream. Such occurrences, although fairly uncommon, only rarely resulted in catastrophic damage to the vessel. The most common consequence was that the ship would need to be towed to the nearest space station or inhabited planet, often to the crew’s chagrin. The resulting embarrassment was typically good-natured and short-lived, for the alternatives were far less welcome.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

“Okay, Chief,” Elizabeth heard Captain Devereux say over the intercom. “Let me know as soon as you find out something.”

“Of course, Cap’n,” Rusty replied, both rolling his eyes and yet looking amused at the same time. He paused for what seemed like the briefest acceptable period of time before closing the connection. Turning his head, he caught Elizabeth watching him and gave her a quick wink.

“Don’t be just standing around, Lizzie,” he told her with tense, but genuine grin. She could tell that his thoughts had already returned to the apparent ruin of the slipstream drive. He jerked his thumb toward one of the upper platforms. “Give Yoshi and Beacon a hand checking the logs and junction regulators.”

Elizabeth glanced upward, locating the two junior engineers amid the swarm of crew members hurrying about on that level. She nodded back toward Rusty.

“I’m on it, Chief.”

She did not wait for a response, knowing that he had already turned his attention back to puzzle of the failed slipstream drive. Grabbing an equipment case from a nearby rack, she pushed her way toward the narrow ramp that would take her to the upper sections of the deck.

The two young engineers seemed visibly relieved by her arrival. Yoshi, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail similar to Elizabeth’s, stared frantically at the information being presented on a nearby status display. Her eyes darted almost wildly as she tried to find meaning in the scrolling data as it flashed past. Beacon knelt about a half meter away, trying to pry an access panel away from the bulkhead—with little success.

Elizabeth felt her own tension rise. Part of her wanted to scold them both; another part wanted to just push them each aside so she could fix the situations herself. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Neither solution was the correct one—at least not right now. The ship was in no immediate danger of blowing itself apart and, while Rusty needed the results of their analysis quickly, it was not so urgent that she needed to be quite so dramatic.

She reached over and paused the engineering systems log playback.

“Start at the moment of the breakdown,” she instructed Yoshi calmly. “Then work backward in fifteen second intervals.” She pointed at the display. “Focus on these readings for now unless you don’t see any significant changes.” Her finger moved downward to a different set of data. “Then start checking these.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the engineer replied. She managed a weak, grateful smile and then began working her way back through the data.

Nearly at her feet, Beacon’s sandy and tousled-looking hair bobbed as he struggled with the panel. Elizabeth caught a momentary flash of his gritted teeth as he strained to get the bulkhead to release its hold on the small access hatch. She fought back a small smile. A plebe mistake, she knew, for she had made it herself more than once—and had been known to once or twice since then if she was particularly tired or distracted.

She bent down and removed an instrument from Beacon’s open case on the deck. He must have caught her movement from the corner of his eye, for he stopped suddenly and stared at her with nearly simultaneous expressions of startlement and irritation. When he recognized her, he stopped and swallowed noticeably. Fighting to keep her expression neutral, Elizabeth offered him the tool.

He stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment and then she watched as a dull flush began to fill his cheeks. His jaw muscles worked like he wanted to say something—or trying to keep from revisiting his breakfast—but he said nothing and accepted the tool. Swallowing again, he turned and began working on the panel’s fasteners. Within a few moments, the panel came away easily, and he leaned it against the bulkhead.

He turned to reach for another piece of equipment in his case as the panel began to slide down the bulkhead. Dropping the tool he held, he grabbed at the falling panel. His fingers grazed the edge, but not enough for him to get a grip or prevent its descent. He winced as it clattered to the deck.

There a sudden hush in their immediate area. Elizabeth could tell without looking that several crew members were staring in their direction. Beacon’s gaze was fixed on the betraying sheet of plasmetal. For a moment, Elizabeth was concerned that he might really throw up this time, but to her relief (and probably his as well, she realized), he managed to maintain the appearance of control until the noise level around them returned to normal.

His eyes turned toward Elizabeth. There was something almost pleading in them that collapsed her remaining resolve and she could not help but smile at him. She hoped it was the right kind. Captain Devereux or the Chief would know the right thing to say at this moment, and she wished she knew what it was. Nothing that came to her mind sounded other than it could also be taken as condescending or ridicule.

She must have managed to do the right thing, though, she noted, because Beacon started chuckling softly.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

The security officer stationed outside the Infirmary straightened as Hope appeared along curve of the passageway. His looked Hope over quickly and then nodded slightly.

“Doctor.”

Hope saw no reason to address him in kind, so she waited, mildly surprised when he reached over and opened the hatch for her. She strode steadily past him, not hurrying, but sensed his eyes following her inside. The interior lights brightened toward full illumination as she entered. Turning out of habit to close the hatch behind her, she found it already in the process of being closed. For no clear reason she could immediately identify, she found the action somewhat unsettling.

She spent only a moment considering it before turning her attention to her more critical task. From a cabinet next to the hatchway, she removed a case already filled with essential emergency medical supplies. Moving to another cabinet, which opened at her touch, she withdrew two additional ampoules and then removed a small container from a drawer to her left. She added all of these items to the contents of the case before heading back toward the hatchway.

She had to enter her security access code before the hatch would unlock and allow her to exit. This time, she found it not at all unexpected when the hatch seemed to open of its own accord, aided by the guard outside. She stared at him for an instant, and then, without a word, continued down the passageway that would take her to Deck Two, Section Eight.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Hope paused in the corridor as the security officer closed the hatch behind her. She had briefly considered requesting that the Captain accompany her to the Infirmary so that she could treat the minor abrasion on her forehead. However, she never spoke the request, for Hope knew that, short of being unconscious, the Captain would not leave the bridge until she was certain that her crew and ship were safe.

The female guard returned to her position next the hatchway. Hope noted that the woman’s eyes regarded her with hard expression. Hope had seen such expressions before. For all their beneficial qualities, many humans still held an arrogant, often almost hostile, attitude toward aliens. It in no way disturbed her. If, in fact, she had feelings about the matter it was disappointment that the officer’s outlook was so limiting in it prejudice.

The security presence aboard the Ship was unusual. Under most circumstances, the crew took care of security matters on their own. According the Captain, a Colonel had insisted that an official guard detail be aboard the Ship for this mission and be placed at all key access points, including the Bridge, Main Engineering, and Shuttle.

As she moved down the passageway away from the Bridge, all observations of the behavior of the security officer now compartmentalized away for later consideration if she so chose, she determined the most efficient path between the Infirmary and Deck Two, Section Eight. Although she had been informed that neither injury appeared to be immediately life-threatening, she preferred to evaluate their condition of the crew members herself before having them transported to the Infirmary for more thorough treatment.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Devereux watched peripherally as Hope exited the bridge. Once she was certain that the medical officer was on her way, and the hatch had closed behind her, Devereux murmured to herself, “Okay, then. Let's at least find out where we really are.”

She worked several controls at her station, but nearly all of them presented her with data that was either conflicting or meaningless. It was a clear sign that systems were still compromised from whatever had happened to them.

She looked up, peering at the flickering and indistinct images displayed on the main bridge displays. She could make out what appeared to be a field of stars—to be expected—but little else. Interference from the ship’s degraded systems prevented the view from resolving into anything more recognizable.

“Ensign,” she called out. “What's our position?”

The young officer’s hands moved expertly, yet almost frantically, over his console. “Working on it now, Captain.” There was a pause while he checked the readouts again. “Many systems are still malfunctioning or offline, Captain. Coordination is difficult.”

Devereux sent a quick smile of encouragement in his direction. “Keep at it, Ensign.”

She stared at the flickering star field and frowned.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

Hope stood before the auxiliary environmental control station. Her hands worked methodically and precisely at the controls. She appeared to pause for the briefest moment, as if sensing Devereux’s gaze on her, but completed her task before turning to face her Captain.

Her dark, unblinking eyes met Devereux’s. “Life Support, environmental systems, function normally.” Her voice was calm and almost completely without inflection.

Devereux nodded and continued to study Hope's alien eyes for a moment before she turned and returned to the command deck. She silently surveyed the condition of the bridge once more before once again activating the intercom.

“Chief,” she said, swallowing back her growing impatience. “I'd like that report now.”

“All the main systems are working as expected,” Rusty’s voice echoed faintly. Devereux guessed that he was shouting into the open intercom from a short distance away. “But the slipstream drive is shot.”

Devereux fought back her frustration with a barely audible sigh. “Okay, Chief,” she managed evenly. “Let me know as soon as you find out something.”

“Of course, Cap’n,” came Rusty’s response after a slight, but noticeable, delay.

Was there a trace of sarcasm there? Devereux switched off the channel before she could know for certain. Her eyes moved back toward Hope. The Aerian xenobiologist interpreted the act of eye contact as permission to speak.

“Casualties reported. Deck Two. Section Eight.”

Devereux felt her lips tighten. Before she could speak, the lights brightened to normal illumination. She looked around quickly with a growing sense of relief. Nodding to Hope, she said, “Go. It looks like we have things under control here.”

Hope responded with a slight nod. “Yes, Captain.” With a steady, deliberate stride, she left the bridge.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1 (continued)

She stabbed at the intercom control.

“Engineering,” she shouted over the noise. “What the hell happened?”

Chief Engineer Rayna’s voice crackled over the speaker. “One moment, Cap’n,” he said. “We're still trying to figure it out.”

Devereux frowned at the report, but knew better than to press the Chief for information that he did not have. She stepped down from the command deck and approached the main navigation station. The ensign seated there did not turn at her approach. The young officer’s russet-colored pelt visible above the collar of his uniform was ruffled, but his vulpine ears remained erect.

“We're where we're supposed to be, Captain,” he reported, his elongated jaw structure drawing out the sounds of the r’s. He worked at the console controls for a moment. “Standard propulsion systems are all working,” he continued, “but the slipstream drive seems to be offline.”

Devereux turned to face the stations on the other side of the bridge.

Emerald Flight: “Past Imperfect” – Chapter 1

The ship slammed out of slipstream. Devereux was not sure how she had prevented herself from being flung to the deck, but she had somehow managed the feat. The ship had stopped shuddering. She mentally forced herself to pry her fingers from the arms of her chair. They felt cramped from the strain as their grip was eased.

The glowing pinpoints of emergency lighting cast harsh shadows around the bridge where they penetrated. Nearly all of the stations were dark. Sharp-lined silhouettes moved among the shadows, but Devereux was not certain which crew members they represented. Fortunately absent was the glow of fires or electrical flares.

She was about to call out when she the main lighting returned at nearly its normal brightness. A quick glance around told Devereux that no one among her bridge crew seemed seriously injured. The ensign standing near one of the sensor stations rubbed absently at her hip, but did not appear to be suffering serious discomfort.

Emerald Flight: Departures

Context: This scene takes place around the middle of the first story in what I’m calling “Season Two”. Devereux has returned to Earth to take care of her terminally ill father.

---

“Just rest, dad,” Devereux said, beginning to rise from the chair. She ignored the stiffness in her legs and spreading numbness in her buttocks. “I’ll bring you a sandwich.”

“Not hungry yet.”

Devereux gave her father a quick smile. “Maybe I am.” Her expression grew more serious. “And you do need to eat too.”

The old man nodded weakly. His eyes returned to gaze upward. Again, Devereux wished she could have a skylight installed so he might have more to observe than the lightly textured surface of the ceiling. Maybe next week, she told herself. She did not allow herself the belief that next week might be too late.

“Aye,” he whispered. His voice was barely more than a breath, “Captain.” Devereux thought she spied the faintest hint of a smile on her father’s lips. His eyes closed and he seemed to sigh.

After a moment, Devereux realized that his next breath did not come. Her father’s features relaxed, freed from all of the pain he had ever endured. Devereux reached over and took his hand.

“Dad . . .” she whispered.

She did not know how long she remained there, her father’s hand resting in her own. After a time, though, a faint footfall penetrated her consciousness. She turned her head and looked toward the doorway.

Sarah stood there. Her dark eyes moved toward the still figure of the old man and then to Devereux.

“How long ago?” she asked softly.

“I’m not sure,” Devereux replied quietly, shaking her head slowly as if to clear it. “Not long, I think.”

Sarah did not enter the room. “Take all the time you need, Christine,” she said, and moved back into the shadows of the hallway beyond. Devereux heard her speaking softly in her phone as she stepped away.

Emerald Flight: Morning Shift

Context: This is the opening scene for one of the stories in my Emerald Flight series. I have no idea right now which one, though.

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Devereux walked the corridor at a steady pace, moving quickly without rushing. She had plenty of time before the shift began, using the time to gather her thoughts and build a mental agenda for the day. Tucked between her arm and body was her personal tablet. She could have recorded her thoughts there, but numerous collisions and near-misses with both bulkheads and personnel had finally taught her not to attempt it while walking.

Although the distinction between day and night was a slippery concept at best aboard a starship, she still felt an air of crisp expectancy as she moved along the passageway. There was no sunrise, no hint of dew, but—at least in her mind—there was an indefinable something that said to her that it was the fresh start to a new day.

It took Devereux a moment to register that someone now strode beside her. She glanced over, immediately recognizing Elizabeth. Devereux fought back a small smile. She noted how the young lieutenant's stride faltered for a moment, as if she were unsure whether to match pace with her commanding officer, continue past, or fall in behind her. She decided to aid the young woman in her indecision.

"Good morning, Lieutenant."

Elizabeth seemed to take the greeting as an invitation and adjusted her pace to walk beside Devereux. The young officer’s face lit up. "Good morning, Captain."

“Busy day ahead for you?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Some of her earlier enthusiasm faded and her voice took on a much more sober tone. “I’m working a shift in Engineering.”

Devereux nodded slowly in return and gave Elizabeth what she hoped was a mildly reassuring smile. “Good,” she said. “Someone needs to keep an eye on my Chief Engineer.”

Elizabeth’s eyes fixed on her for a moment in a way that disquieted Devereux. She quickly analyzed what she had said but could find no cause for such a reaction.

“Yes, Captain,” Elizabeth responded after a moment. Her face lost nearly all expression as she looked away.

They now walked together in silence. Devereux considered what to say. Something had gone awry in their seemingly casual conversation and she did not want the day to begin on such an awkward note—for either of them.

Devereux lifted his tablet, activating its display as she did so. “A piece of career advice, Lieutenant?”

Elizabeth’s response was delayed and hesitant. “Yes, Captain?”

“When you’re promoted and offered a command of your own,” Devereux said. “Think about it long and hard.”

Elizabeth’s features creased into a frown. “Yes, ma’am.”

Devereux allowed her lips to form a repressed smile. “It’s not the invading aliens that’ll get you,” she cautioned. “It’s the paperwork.”

Elizabeth stared at Devereux for a moment with something akin to disbelief. A moment later, she relaxed and let out of quiet, but genuine, laugh.

“Yes, Captain,” she said, smiling now. “I’ll remember that.”

Devereux smiled back to the young woman, relieved that the disquieting moment seemed to have passed. “See that you do.”

The pair reached the junction of two intersecting passageways.

“Have a good shift, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the young officer said. “You too.” She turned with a smile and headed down the port passageway that led to the main Engineering deck.

Devereux watched Elizabeth go, allowing herself a small smile of her own. It wasn’t really that long ago, was it?

Stardate undefined - Supplemental

The small, bland, but ultimately satisfying meal revived her somewhat. She still felt tired, but less in danger of just collapsing into sleep. Across from her, David seemed intent on his own rations. If he was watching her, she could not catch him at it.

Jana downed the rest of the water, pausing for a moment to consider whether she should save some of it for later. There was more in the storage locker, she knew, although she was not certain how much. She also remembered her survival training instructor telling them all that the best place to store water was in their bodies, not in containers where it could evaporate, leak out, or get lost.

Placing the empty container and deflated meal package aside in a neat pile, she rose.

"What are you doing?"

Jana peered at him for a moment. There was something in those dark eyes that stared back at her that reminded her why she had been attracted to him.

"I'm going to work on the internal sensors some more," she said, waving in the direction of the ring of engineering stations.

David nodded. "Can you use some help?"

Jana felt her eyebrows rise. Her skepticism must have been obvious; David winced slightly. She bit back the snide retort that had arisen to her lips. Knowing that the stress and fatigue were fueling her emotions as much as any other feelings she had about David, she looked away, taking a slow, deep breath.

"Why don't you check on Wa?" she suggested. "I'll let you know if there's anything you can help with."

David nodded, but the disappointment was evident in his features as well. Jana knew that he must be just as tired and scared as she was.

I can't be strong for both of us, she told herself. She watched as David gathered up the tricorder and medical kit. Do I?

David walked over to Wa-Rhayvea and crouched down, pulling out the tricorder. He began scanning the Chief Engineer without looking in Jana's direction.

Jana rose to her feet, dusting imaginary crumbs and lingering dirt from her pants. She headed for the equipment locker again, creating a mental checklist of tools she needed. It was main Engineering after all, she told herself with vague humor. Nearly any tool she might want should be here somewhere.

Stardate undefined - Supplemental

David returned a few moments later carrying two pouches and two small containers of water. He stopped in front of Jana, staring down at her for a moment. Jana looked away, not wanting to be the subject of his attention. From the corner of her vision, she could see him hold out both of the silvery packets.

"Some kind of chicken or some combination of healthy, freeze-dried vegetables?" There was a forced light-heartedness in his tone that made Jana want to scream at him.

She grimaced at the choice. "Chicken," she finally mumbled, just loud enough so that David should be able to hear her.

David withdrew the other package and then offered her one of the containers of water.

"Thanks," she croaked out softly, wanting to wince at how hoarse her voice sounded. She unsealed the container and gulped the water down greedily. Stopping to take a breath, she looked down to realize that the container was now only about one-third full. She looked up sheepishly and was relieved that see that David was intent on opening his food packet and had probably not noticed.

Taking another deep breath, and feeling somewhat rejuvenated by the water, she began working at the seal of her own packet. She pulled at the tab cautiously, remembering her unfortunate experience during survival training. Back then, she had opened her packet a little too vigorously, managing to spray herself with a layer of brownish-green goo. She still held a grudge against Lieutenant B'hela for refusing to replace it. It was not the later hunger that still irked her, but the memory of the increasing stench as the organic paste had begin to grow sour.

This particular packet opened went without such incident. She reached a finger inside, ignoring the texture that reminded her of improperly puréed baby food. Removing, she sampled a taste. It was not as awful as she had expected, but it was a far cry from even replicated cuisine. Still, it was nutritious sustenance—and far better than the alternative.

Jana ate slowly, filled up somewhat by the sudden intake of the water. She tried not to think of what other personal necessities would become urgent within the next few hours. Leaning her head back against the bulkhead, she swallowed, closing her eyes. It felt good.

Stardate undefined - Supplemental

Jana walked over to the wall status display. Like nearly every other panel on the Engineering deck, it remained dark. If she could get it working, it might tell them much about the condition of the Ares, without having to call up the status of every system, one by one, from the one console she had managed to revive so far. She crouched down, working to remove the access panel from underneath, hoping that she might be able to easily restore power to it.

Raising her wrist light, Jana peered into the bulkhead innards. She saw mostly shadows, and nothing seemed to reveal a local overload of the system. Whatever the problem was, it was further along down the power and data connections. Sighing softly, she rested her head against the bulkhead and closed her eyes.

A few moments later—at least she thought it was only a few moments later—Jana jerked her head suddenly upward. Had she dozed off? She looked guiltily around and saw David coming toward her. Nothing in his expression told her whether he had caught her brief lapse or not.

"I think he'll be fine," David said, nodding in Wa-Rhayvea's direction. "It looks like just a mild concussion, but that's about all I can say for certain—and not even that." His lips worked in a small, self-deprecating smile. "I never really studied up on Efrosian physiology."

Jana's eyes moved toward the shadows where Wa-Rhayvea rested. "Me either," she whispered.

"Your turn," David said, raising the tricorder.

Jana started to protest, but then just nodded her head tiredly. David began scanning near her head and then began to slowly pass the tricorder down over her body. For a moment, she felt an odd echo of erotic feelings, as if he undressed her as he moved the tricorder over her.

"You might be more comfortable if you sat down," David offered quietly. His eyes remained fixed on the tricorder's display.

Jana allowed herself to sink slowly down to the deck, bracing her back against the bulkhead as she slid down it. She sat silently while David finished his appraisal.

He snapped the tricorder closed. "Other than borderline exhaustion, you're fine except for that gash."

Jana's fingers reflexively went to the clotted cut along her face.

"Here," David said softly, and removed a small dermal regenerator from the medical kit. He held it over the wound.

Jana lowered her hand, feeling her skin tingle as the device repaired the subcutaneous and surface damage.

"Almost good as new," David told her with a faint smile, lowering the device.

Jana felt the smooth, newly regeneration skin. "Thank you," she whispered, not at all certain why she said it.

David's smile was surprised and sincere. "You're welcome." He replaced then dermal regenerator and removed a hypospray. He checked the setting, adjusted it, and then pressed it against her lower neck.

"What's that for?" she asked, her tone almost accusatory.

"It's just a general antibiotic," he told her. "Who knows what little microbes are churning around out here."

Jana studied him for a moment before nodding, accepting his explanation.

David replaced the hypospray and then closed the medical kit. He turned back to Jana. "You need some food." He gave a small chuckle. "Actually, we both do."

"Survival rations?" Jana asked with obvious distaste.

"Unless you have one of the replicators working?"

Jana shook her head.

"Well then."

"Over there," Jana said, nodding toward one of the starboard storage lockers. "I think there's some in there or in the one next to it."

David's head turned in the direction of Jana's look. He nodded and rose, heading for the specified cabinets.

Jana swallowed drily. Hopefully, David would think to bring her water as well.

Stardate undefined - Supplemental

There followed a long moment of awkward silence. David's mouth moved, but he chose not to speak whatever thoughts he had. Jana just looked away, her gaze moving over the mounds of debris and shattered consoles.

"Let me take a look at you," David finally offered. His voice was quiet, but the tone conveyed nothing but professional interest.

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh," David responded.

When he started to move toward the equipment locker, Jana stopped him, surprising herself by grabbing her arm.

"I already took it," she said. "I left it over by Wa."

A strange, almost undecipherable look passed over David's face. "Wa-Rhayvea's still alive? You're not the only one here?"

Jana shook her head. She felt suddenly very tired. "Just me," she answered. "Wa's unconscious," she said. "Or was when I left him."

"I'd better a take a look." David headed in the direction Jana had indicated.

"You're just an assistant counselor," she said. Her protest sounded weak and indifferent even to her.

"And you've had how much medical training?"

There was nothing caustic in David's retort. Under other circumstances, Jana might even have interpreted it as good-natured teasing. She chose to ignore it, her own fatigue and concern for Wa-Rhayvea, winning out.

David knelt, removing the tricorder from the emergency medical kit. "Don’t wander off too far," he cautioned Jana without turning around. "You're next." He began scanning Wa-Rhayvea's still form.

Stardate undefined - Supplemental

Chunks of debris that had blocked the access hatch fell away. Something large tumbled out of the Jeffries tube. Jana's fingers tightened around the firing grip even as her eyes widened. She swore beneath her breath, almost tossing the phaser away in her haste not to fire as she recognized the grime-covered figure.

Rising unsteadily to its feet, the crew member in Sciences blue moaned loudly, rubbing at several locations throughout its body. It brushed away at the soot and dust that covered its uniform, but the effort seemed to only produce dark smears.

"David!" Jana shouted, fighting the urge to run over and throw her arms around him.

His head turned slowly toward her and Jana swallowed hard, raising the phaser once again. They had been attacked by the Borg, after all, and it was possible . . .

Jana breathed a soft sigh of relief and lowered the phaser again. The marks that she had seen on his face were only shadows and dirt—gratefully not the Borg implants she had feared.

"Will you make your mind?" David scolded her irritably, but there was a visible sparkle in his eyes at seeing her. "Either shoot me or not." He straightened, evidently giving up on any semblance of a neater appearance. "Or put it away before you hurt someone."

"Don't tempt me," Jana tried to snarl, but her relief at seeing him alive and unharmed was too palpable to disguise. She lowered the phaser's power setting and tucked it back in at her belt. Jana looked toward the still-open hatch, the trail of strewn debris, and then back at David. "How'd you get here in?"

David absently brushed at his tunic. "I was talking to someone just down the corridor when they hit us." He frowned, his dark eyes filling with momentary sadness. "She didn't make it."

Jana gave him that moment to silently grieve before prompting him to continue. Part of her flared with anger. Someone . . . she. Uh huh . . . She pushed down the uncharitable thought quickly, chiding herself sharply.

"The turbolift wasn't working," David went on, "and the other corridors were blocked or sealed, so I made my way back here." He nodded toward the main hatch into the Engineering deck. "It's completely blocked—more than I could clear away alone, anyway—so I climbed through one of the maintenance shafts until I came out here." A faint laugh escaped him and he looked toward the hatch through which he had arrived. "There, I mean,"

Jana gave him an annoyed look; she was in no mood for humor. Studying him quickly, she asked, "Are you okay?"

David nodded. "Just a few bruises from bumping into things in the tube in the dark." His expression became serious. "Jana," he said soberly. "I am really glad you're okay."

Jana stared back at him, unable to form any kind of response. After several moments, she finally settled on a non-committal, "Thanks."

David's expression told her that he was unhappy with her response, but she really did not want to spend any more time on David's feelings—or her own, for that matter—at the moment. There were far more critical issues that required their immediate and focused attention.

Stardate undefined - Supplemental

He was still unconscious, but seemed to be resting comfortably. His breathing continued to be slow and regular, and she could detect no change to his pulse or skin color. The blood on his face had dried to a dark rust color. She guessed that was normal for Efrosians, as she doubted any infection could have set in so quickly.

Jana wished she had a blanket or something to cover him with, but could think of nowhere in the area where there might be one. For a moment, she considered removing her uniform tunic and using that, but her modesty won out. If he did waken, she was not sure she could face him with dignity in only her undershirt.

She made her way back to what appeared to be the one functioning station. Tapping at the controls, she tried to get an open communications channel.

"Engineering to bridge." She paused a moment before repeating the call. "Engineering to bridge." When no reply came, she switched over to what should be a general frequency. "Engineering to any station, please respond."

Only a faint hum of static answered her. She was disappointed, but not terribly surprised, having expected it when she had not heard the standard acknowledgment signal. She changed the configuration of the console again, this time trying to gain access to the internal sensor array. Although she spent several minutes in the attempt, trying a variety of ways she knew to reroute and otherwise access its systems, it proved to be ultimately unsuccessful. If the internal sensors were working, they were cut off from Engineering.

Jana fought back a swell of claustrophobia that threatened to engulf her. Despite its size and open design, the main Engineering chamber suddenly felt much, much smaller inside. Aside from Wa-Rhayvea’s comatose form, she felt utterly alone. She tried to fight back the urge to escape, to find some way to leave the Engineering deck. Reason told her that the corridors outside were even smaller spaces, but that knowledge did little to help quell her growing anxiety.

She did need to get out at some point, she told herself, trying to rationalize the situation calmly. Despite its size, there were only a limited number of survival supplies available on the Engineering deck. In most emergency situation, it was usually one of the first areas to be evacuated. If the warp core went critical, it was the last place anyone wanted to be who was not looking for a very quick and dramatic death.

Debris shifted near one of the auxiliary access doors to the main aft Jeffries tube. Jana spun on her boot heel, surprised to find a phaser already in her hand. She did not remember pulling it from its holster, which told her just how keyed up she was.

The sound was repeated, although slightly different. Jana swallowed hard, her fingers tightly wrapped around the grip of her phaser. This time, she saw the debris move, falling outward on the deck. She raised the phaser, ready to fire at whatever emerged through the maintenance hatch.

Stardate: undefined - Supplemental

Her gaze was caught by a glimpse of a figure laying crumpled a few meters away from the main engineering stations. The color of the uniform told her that it was a member of the Engineering team, but from that distance she could not discern who is might be. She made her way over to it, ducking to avoid another fallen support beam.

As Jana knelt over the figure, she recognized it was it instantly. The distinctive orange cast to the skin, and the long white hair and moustache, revealed Wa-Rhayvea.

Oh no, Wa . . . not you.

A nasty gash ran along the left side of his face, from his ear down almost to his jaw. The blood seemed to have already dried, so Jana left it alone for now. Jana reached down to gently touch his forehead. His skin felt cool, but not cold. Without having to feel for it, she could see the faint throb of a pulse at his neck. His chest rose and fell with slow, but steady respiration.

Jana breathed a sigh, feeling relief flood through her. He's not dead—just unconscious. Maybe with a concussion . . . I don't know. She realized that one of her next priorities was to get her hands on a tricorder. Even a standard issue one would allow her to get basic physiological readings.

She looked around again, having a much better idea of her bearing now that there was at least minimal lighting. There was an equipment locker on the starboard side, near one of the main Jeffries tubes. She made her way over to it and opened it.

Inside she found emergency medical kits and a wide assortment of tools, including a selection of tricorders. She grabbed one of the medkits and a tricorder and closed the door. She began to turn away and return to where when Wa-Rhayvea lay when she noticed another cabinet mounted to the left: weapons locker. She entered her security access and peered inside.

There were a few phaser rifles, a small number of concussion and photon grenades (neither of which she had ever used), and a small number of standard hand phasers. Jana took one and dropped it into the pouch at her waist. She hesitated a moment and then took another one, tucking it into her waistband at her back. We don't know the condition of the ship or if we were boarded. I might not able to get back over here for another one if I need it.

She then silently prayed that she would not need to use either of them. Finding nothing else that she felt competent enough to use, she closed the cabinet and headed back to Wa-Rhayvea.

Stardate: undefined – Supplemental

Stumbling over several other obstacles in the dark, Jana kept herself moving in the direction where she believed the aft stations were located.

A dark, roughly geometric, shape appeared before her. Reaching out, Jana breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers encountered the smooth surface of one of the engineering consoles. She pulled herself to her feet, gripping its edge for balance. Her fingers played over its surface several times, but it stubbornly remained dark.

Probably a severed power conduit, Jana guessed silently. She turned, trying to orient herself in the almost non-existent lighting. If she was right, there should be another station about two and a half meters to her right.

She turned and moved in that direction, using one of her boots to probe cautiously ahead of her. To her relief, it encountered only loose debris. Her hand bumped against the edge of the console, surprising her. She had expected it to be still about half a meter still further ahead. It made her wonder if she really had her orientation correct within the dark chamber.

Reaching out blindly, she tapped the surface controls. This time, the console glowed to life. To her relief, it accepted her access code and entered a ready state, awaiting her commands.

The first thing she did was to attempt to reroute and restore emergency power. Faint yellow-white lighting flickered on throughout the Engineering deck. Deep pockets of shadow scattered throughout told her that many of the systems still remained severely damaged. Still, after all that time in the near-perfect darkness, it felt nearly as bright as day. A faint breeze against her forehead and cheeks told her that the air reclamation system was working again as well.

Looking toward the multi-level center chamber, she saw clouds of dust and smoke beginning to disperse. The warp core was dark, but seemed to be undamaged. Its appearance added to the eerie feeling of the scene. Jana had never seen it completely shut down before. Even if all of its systems were operational, it would be sometime before it could safely be brought online again. She also noted with relief that none of the coolant tanks had ruptured, nor did any appear to be leaking.

Stardate: undefined

- 1 -

The transition back to consciousness was a subtle one for Jana. Although she was certain that she had opened her eyes, everything around her remained dark.

Her head throbbed and her body ached almost everywhere. She lay there, uncertain whether she should move—should move. Experimentally, she wiggled her fingers and then her toes. Although they tingled faintly, they seemed still attached and functional. With cautious effort, she turned to one side. She found herself breathing heavily from the effort. Taking slow controlled breaths, she waited for her strength to return and took a quick mental assessment of her situation.

She was alive. Main power seemed to be out. That she was able to breathe at all, not yet freezing to death, or trying to breath vacuum told her that at least this part of the ship remained intact—at least for the moment.

How long have I been out?

The deck beneath her remained steady and still. Also absent was the usual hum of environmental and other support systems. That alone did not bother her too greatly. As long as there were no hull breaches, she could probably survive for days on the air available in the core engineering section.

Jana now realized that it was not completely dark. Scattered throughout the section that she could see where multi-colored dots of light from systems that were not completely offline. Gathering her strength, she rose to her knees and then began to stand. The faint sensation of something brushing against her hair slowed her ascent so that her head only lightly grazed something overhead, rather than slamming against it.

Reaching upward, she groped blindly overhead. She stopped when her hand encountered a broken span of metal. From the texture, she guessed that it was one of the bulkhead support braces. It had apparently sheared loose and fallen during the battle, forming a rough arch above her. It had likely deflected any additional debris, she realized, probably keeping her from being crushed.

Remaining in a low crouch, she worked her way slowly across the deck, trying to find a space not obstructed by large chunks of debris. Once, she collided with something soft that yielded only slightly against her boot. She reached down, her fingers brushing against the fabric of a uniform. She swallowed, fighting back a mild swell of panic and revulsion, and probed further. A moment later, her fingers encountered bare skin. From what she could tell, it seemed to be a neck, but she was could not be certain what species. Definitely humanoid, she decided—and quite dead. She could not feel a pulse or any signs of respiration.

Jana removed her hand and took a deep, sighing breath. Keep going, she told herself. Keep moving. At first, her legs refused to obey, but they finally relented to her will and she continued on.