Captain Martin McManus
Chief Medical Officer
USS Terra Nova
"Unsettled"


[CMO's office, USS Terra Nova]
[October 20, 2378 - 0730]

Martin McManus wasn't technically on duty until 0800, but he'd been
awake for hours already. After shouting himself out of a nightmare at
about 0500 and stewing in his quarters for a couple of hours, he'd
started to feel like the walls of his quarters were closing in on
him. Not remotely interested in giving the ship's soundproofing
another workout, he got dressed and wandered over to his office. He
had some charts and journals to review anyway. *Might as well be
productive if you're going to be up anyway.*

Martin stopped by the mess hall and grabbed some breakfast, but he
didn't stick around. He could eat in his office; it was just down the
hall, after all, and he really wasn't in the mood to socialize- not
that he was ever in much of a mood to socialize. He'd been on this
ship for nearly a month, and while he'd interacted with plenty of
people, being the CMO, he'd had very little contact with anyone.
*Which suits me just fine, thanks.* Martin would freely admit that he
wasn't always quick to figure things out, but most of his experiences
had taught him that at the end of the day, it was better to avoid
getting too close. To anyone. It invariably ended badly. People left.
They turned on you. *They get blown into tiny pieces.*

With an inward shudder, Martin pushed that thought out of his mind and hunkered
down with the latest issue of The Starfleet Journal of Medicine and some eggs
and toast. *Nothing goes with breakfast like a good article on sucking chest
wounds!*

=/\=


[Sickbay, USS Terra Nova]
[October 20, 2378 - 1330]

"So... have you met the new CMO?" Christia Zelle quirked an eyebrow
at the ship's Chief Nurse, indicating she certainly had. Because they
worked on different shifts, she and Lorraine didn't see each other
often, but she'd very much wanted to compare notes regarding their
new boss.

Nadia shot the younger woman a wry look, able to guess what he'd made
of the newest addition to the Terra Nova's medical department. "Yes,"
she said slowly, "I have. He's been here almost a month, you know."

"Oh, believe me, I know!"

"Zelle," the Warrant Officer chided, though she looked away and
smothered a grin. "He's an excellent surgeon- that knee
reconstruction he did the other day...."

"Was great, but he's not exactly... well. You can't say he's touchy
feely."

"No, you can't," Nadia agreed, "but you can't say he ever claimed to
be 'touchy feely,' either." She looked at the other woman with a
pointed expression. "He was on Cardassia Prime until late last year.
I don't think there's a lot of use for 'touchy feely' there. And he's
a Marine. I know they don't usually go in for that kind of thing."
Zelle shrugged at that, but she had to concede the point. While the
new CMO wasn't what anyone would call the outgoing type, his skills
as a doctor were beyond question, at least thus far. If anything, it
seemed like he spent most of his waking hours in Sickbay, whether he
was on duty or not. It hadn't taken long for the medical staff to
figure out that Doctor McManus could most often be found in his
office if he wasn't physically in Sickbay or the lab. Ryko Tabor had
quietly joked that he suspected the doctor was sleeping in his office.

=/\=


[CMO's office, USS Terra Nova]
[20 October, 2378 - 0815]

Ryko Tabor wasn't far off. Martin found his quarters claustrophobic,
and he was still outraged at Starfleet for packing him off to this
God-forsaken corner of the galaxy in the first place. It had been bad
enough being yanked off of Cardassia and shunted off to Liberty
Station, but with the corridor closed and no prospect of getting out
of the Riyali Sector any time soon, he was trapped there. Not that
Starfleet Command had seemed very inclined to put him anywhere else,
at least until they'd decided, for reasons known only to themselves,
that he would be a perfect fit as the Terra Nova's CMO. Privately,
Martin suspected that someone, maybe a former patient he'd pissed off
that had managed to claw their way into command, was playing some
kind of sick practical joke on him.

"Eejits," he muttered, scowling at one of the charts he was
finishing. Martin saw the news, read the staffing reports and knew
full well that they were still desperate for help on Cardassia. He
was willing to go- wiling to go back, and instead he was cooling his
heels on a tiny ship in the middle of nowhere. As far as he was
concerned, it completely defied logic. Still, he'd managed to avoid
any more fisticuffs, at least so far, and he supposed that was
something. That didn't do anything to change the fact that far from
being relaxed, less agitated and recovering from what he'd seen
during the war and on Cardassia, Martin was both crushingly bored and
finding himself with little to do but relive everything. How that was
supposed to be better than keeping himself busy on Cardassia, he
really didn't know.

Lt. Kalev Remont
First Officer
USS Terra Nova
"The Arrival"


[Personal Quarters, USS Terra Nova]
[October 20, 2378 - 07:13 hours]

Lt. Kalev Remont: Personal Log

"It has been three weeks since we launched from Liberty. It still feels amazing
being first officer on the Terra Nova. Commander Garrett has been pleased with
my work, and the crew has responded well to the changes we've had in personnel.
There are still some of the new crew I haven't gotten acquainted with yet, but
I'm sure that it will happen in time. Those of us who had been on board during
the attack still feel extremely lucky that we didn't lose anyone. There were
some early concerns about Commander Garrett, but he seems to have rebounded from
his injuries. If there is anything lingering, I haven't seen it at this point...
unless he’s doing a good job keeping it to himself. I've been keeping an eye
on the rest of the crew, as it is one of my responsibilities.

There had been some rumors that we were going to get a new CO from outside, but
the entire crew was pleased that Commander Garrett was put forward. With all the
changes, its nice for the veteran crew to have familiar faces front and center,
and our new faces also appreciate having a commander experienced and familiar
with the Terra Nova.

Overall, the ship has been running smoothly. The last three weeks have given us
a chance to shakedown the ship again. Although I still have a concern. While we
were still at Liberty, I had the opportunity to brush up on some combat training
with their contingent of Marines. One of them, an Andorian -- can't quite recall
his name -- said we shouldn't have been taken that easy. Kept saying that the
Terra Nova had its teeth pulled out. I looked into it... and sure enough, I
hadn't realized how much our weapons on board had been downgraded. I've been
talking to Commander Garrett about getting that rectified.

The Expanse is still a dangerous place, and it doesn't look good for a ship like
ours to be running around without the teeth to do our job here. Although the
Commander agrees with my assessment as well, nothing could be done prior to
departure, but he's trying to get it addressed next time we are back at Liberty.
I certainly hope we can put the teeth back in. I don't want to be in the
position we were in a few months ago. We got lucky, and we had some damn fine
people who kept things from getting worse.

We should be arriving on station today near the "Gateway" along with the
Thunderbird. We're going to be investigating the Yetanni claims of its
existence. Apparently, according to Yetanni belief, their ancient ancestors
"communicated with the gods" via "The Gateway". They've been a little vague as
to what "communication" means, but it should be an interesting mystery to
investigate if there is anything to it. Who knows, maybe the "Gateway" could be
like the Bajoran wormhole. If so, it could be our ticket to restore back and
forth traffic to the Ryalli Expanse. If wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets.

=/\=


[Bridge, USS Terra Nova]
[October 20, 2378 - 14:29]

The Terra Nova and the Thunderbird were approaching the historic coordinates of
"The Gateway". On the bridge of the Terra Nova, things were a bustle of
activity. Lieutenant Remont was working away at the Ops station, when his board
began to chirp. He examined the readings, looking a little puzzled. It was a
chronaton-based anomaly to the starboard of the Terra Nova. It seemed vaguely
familiar, but he was having a problem putting his finger on it.

He tapped his comm badge, "Lt. Commander Andrews, please report to the bridge."

=/\=


The doors swished open, and Lieutenant Commander Garrett Andrews strode briskly
onto the Defiant-class bridge.

"Mr. Remont, report."

"Sir sensors picked up some sort of chronoton-based anomaly off our starboard
side. It was rapidly growing in frequency, but then it vanished. The Thunderbird
has reported the same occurance."

Garrett sat down in his command chair, a curious expression on his face. "Mr.
Darnel, run a sensor sweep. See if there are any similar readings within sensor
range."

"Aye Sir." The Altimaran paused a moment as the sensor data scrolled across his
console. "Nothing within sensor range."

"Hmm. Very odd." Garrett shrugged slightly. After a moment he turned to his
operations officer. "Mr. Remont, open a channel with the Thunderbird."

As he was about to open the hailing channel, the lights went on within Remont's
head. He began tapping a few keys on his panel.

"Mr. Remont? I'm waiting for that channel," Garrett noted impatiently.

"Apologies Sir," Remont said, turned his seat to face his commanding officer.
"When I picked up the anomaly, there seemed to be something familiar about it,
and it just occurred to me. We've been near an almost identical anomaly before.
I cross referenced the sensor logs. We were near a chronoton anomaly during the
attack on the Terra Nova a few months ago. I'd remembered seeing it on the
sensors, and before I could run a full sensor scan on it, I was defending the
bridge, and the anomaly was the least of my worries. We don't have much else on
it, other than the initial readings were almost identical."

Garrett looked at Remont thoughtfully, remembering his report on the attack, and
the Belstasi pirates that Remont single-handedly defended the bridge from that
day. "Nice to see you are on your toes, Lieutenant. Advise the Thunderbird, and
let's not take any chances. Yellow alert."

Remont turned back to his board, "Aye sir, yellow alert, advising the
Thunderbird."

Turning to his science officer, Garrett ordered, "Mr. Darnel, let's get some
sensors on the vacinity of that anomaly. I don't want any surprises. It may have
something to do with the "Gateway"."

"Aye-aye, scanning," Darnel replied promptly.

Lt. (j.g) Kalev Remont
Chief of Operations
USS Terra Nova
"A Moment of Truth, Revisited – Part 2"


[Bridge, USS Terra Nova]
[July 8, 2378 - 14:41 hours]

Kalev Remont was working away on the bridge by himself. Both the Captain and
First Officer had been called away from the bridge, leaving Remont to deal with
coordinating shipboard defence and repair. Not the easiest of tasks when a ship
had almost a third of it's crew incapacitated, and the rest trying to fight off
intruders.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded, disrupting his focused damage control efforts. He
glanced up at the source of the sound. It was coming from the science console.
Not good. Sensors were picking up something outside the ship, and he hoped to
God that it wasn't another enemy vessel.

Pursing his lips, and letting out an exasperated sigh, Remont dashed over to the
science station to take stock of the new sensor readings. He looked over the
status panel. Sensors were picking up something just off the port side. Heavy
chronoton particles... and rising. Elevated neutrinos in the M-band. Not good.

He grunted, and glanced up at the viewscreen. Sure enough, something was out
there, but it wasn't a ship. A yellowish-green hue was starting to tint the
black of space. It was faint, but it was there.

Then, as if to add more frustration to his task, a loud sound came through one
of the doors to the rear of the little defiant bridge: WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Someone or something was trying to break through the bridge doors.

Kalev swiveled quickly in his chair and ran a simple scan of the area. Not good
-- three alien intruders were on the other side of the door, and each appeared
to be armed with some type of phaser rifle. On top of that, the alien readings
appeared to be Belstasi, which confused him. The Belstasi were supposed to be
friends of Starfleet, not enemies. Unfortunately, the three phaser rifles on the
other side of the door said otherwise.

Kalev groaned. "I have a bad feeling about this."

=/\=


[Deck Three, USS Terra Nova]
[July 8, 2378 - 14:38 hours ... three minutes earlier]

The silence in the Jeffries tube was broken as a chunk of tritanium plating fell
away from the bulkhead and crashed to the deck grating.

A moment later a crewman in a Starfleet uniform began to emerge through the new
hole. Ryko Tabor coughed violently as he tumbled into the dark Jeffries tube.
The dim emergency lights revealed the smoke rolling in around him from the
survival locker. He crawled away, eyes watering uncontrollably from the burning,
noxious gases.

As he smacked into a support structure, he stopped and blinked away the tears.
He leaned back against the bulkhead, sitting in the confined space as he took in
his surroundings in the deep red lighting.

He wiped at his eyes, streaking the tears across his smoke smudged face. His
breathing slowly began to return to normal, with sporadic coughs.

He hated this. Starfleet. He was rapidly coming to that conclusion. It wasn't
just a dislike anymore, being uncomfortable out in the fleet. No matter where he
was or what he did, things always went wrong. He had cheated death as much in
the past three months as he had in the entire two years of the Dominion
occupation of Betazed. The only difference was that the occupation was over --
the Starfleet Debacle was ongoing.

He coughed again, squinting his eyes shut as puffs of grey-black smoke were
expelled from his lungs. He reached up to tap at his commbadge again. "Tabor to
Sickbay." The words sent him coughing again, drowning out the response. "Sorry,
say that again?" he finally asked. His hands were trembling from the surge of
artificial hormones he had had to inject to keep himself coherent against the
Qu-rog sedative.

"Are you still in the survival locker?" Christia answered.

"No, I..." He coughed, glancing back at the hole in the bulkhead. "I got out."
He looked around at the darkened Jeffries tube, wondering again just what kind
of damage he'd caused.

"Can you get to deck three, section two?"

He shot a disbelieving look toward the ceiling. "I think so," he said, checking
the charge on his phaser. Cutting through the bulkhead had cost a significant
portion of the available power, but it was still good.

"Good. Commander Andrews called in that he was injured."

Ryko's head popped up at mention of Garrett's being injured. He started crawling
toward the nearest access hatch. "Where is he?" Deck three, section two was,
after all, a sizable section of the ship -- even if it was a small ship.

"Somewhere near the number four pulse cannon. We don't know for sure, internal
sensors just went down."

"Understood," he said quietly, heaving himself to the hatch. That was probably
his fault. "I'm on my way."

As the channel closed, he cracked open the hatch and peered into the corridor,
phaser at the ready in case the drones were waiting for him. When it seemed
clear, he eased himself out and backed against the bulkhead, closing the hatch
and watching the corridor carefully. He cranked his head to the right at the
sound of an engine whir, cautiously peering around the corner to see the pair of
drones still waiting for him outside the equipment locker, lasers scanning back
and forth across the smooth surface.

Well, at least there was one good thing about them -- they were stupid.

Granted, they weren't the ones who had cut through the bulkhead and done who
knew how much damage to who knew how many systems either. But he didn't want to
think about that right now.

He stepped quickly across the corridor, phaser trained on the drones, but
neither seemed to take notice.

He hurried along the corridor, arcing just aft of the holosuites, then carefully
cutting across the deck's main corridor, eyes darting back and forth for more
drones. He slapped at his commbadge again. "Tabor to Andrews." When he got no
response, he spoke again. "Sir, if you can respond, make some noise." He paused
again, waiting for some sort of answer. When he received none, he added, "I'm on
my way to you now. I'll be there in just a minute." He walked quickly past the
cargo bay, hanging a left at the next intersection and heading toward Andrews's
last known position near the pulse cannon.

As he turned left again, he froze. There was Andrews, pinned beneath a collapsed
support beam, with a very large man standing over him. The unidentified man
turned toward him and Ryko saw the large, black eyes... the missing nose. "What
the--?" He barely had time to react as an energy bolt screamed past his chest.
Ryko dropped back, crashing to the deck on his backside as his own phaser came
up and fired in response.

Ryko's beam caught the alien squarely in the chest, flinging him back and over
Andrews. The young Betazoid sat on the deck in a shocked silence for a long
moment, stunned beyond belief that he had actually made that shot -- let alone
that he had just shot a Belstaisi.

Finally, regripping his phaser as he stood, he shot another quick look around,
then cautiously approached the pair. "Commander? Are you all right?" he asked,
phaser trained on the sprawled alien. Andrews nodded, then grimaced toward the
beam pinning him. "Right. Ryko squatted next to him, working his hands beneath
the beam to be sure there were no major injuries concealed by it. "Let's see if
I can get you out of there..." He grabbed a smaller piece of a support that had
broken off, wedging it beneath the beam as a lever and throwing his weight into
it.

He never saw or heard the impact from behind that lifted him off the deck and
sent him sailing across the corridor -- barely saw the console and bulkhead
before his body collided and demolished it.

His ears were ringing from an explosion, he decided as he crashed down onto the
deck. The roar of air sweeping past him quickly snapped him back to the reality
of the situation, as he felt himself being dragged along the ripped carpet.

Ryko lifted his head to see... stars. He blinked. But sure enough, there they
were... stars speckling the blackness of space, bordered by the whitish haze of
the ship's atmosphere condensing and crystallizing as it exploded through the
jagged hole in the Terra Nova's hull. The number four pulse cannon was gone,
along with the surrounding chunk of hull.

His hands clutched frantically at anything that was bolted down, slicing his
palms along the jagged edges of the broken deck. His training kicked in
automatically and he stayed low to the deck to prevent the hurricane force winds
from getting beneath him and flinging him end over end out into space. As his
body was swept toward the hull breach, he quickly became aware that Starfleet
ships needed far more gripping surfaces to prevent just this sort of problem.

He looked up in time to see the Belstaisi blown through the breach, tumbling off
into space. His arm smacked into the beam that had been pinning Andrews. He
wrapped his arms instinctively around it, holding onto the heavy chunk of metal.
It didn't take long for him to realize that it, too, was racing toward the
breach.

Ryko saw Andrews sweeping past him and reached out, latching his hand around the
man's ankle. With nothing else available to grab for support, they continued
sliding across the deck toward the hole, bouncing off the wall as they went.

The beam spun around wildly, Ryko still clinging onto it with his body, while
his other hand clutched desperately to Garrett's ankle. Then, suddenly, the beam
slammed into the gaping hole, wedging firmly and jolting to a sudden stop. Both
Ryko and Garrett were pinned between the surging wind and the beam. Beyond them,
the cold of space.

Ryko held onto the beam for dear life, his face contorting under the strain
pinning him against the beam. Through sheer luck, his legs had become entangled
with Garrett's body, and were now creating a fragile brace holding the other man
in place. He gritted his teeth, clutching the beam and his superior officer with
all his strength.

Then he heard the familiar crackle of the emergency fields flaring into place.
Free of the winds battering him in the face, Ryko gasped in the suddenly still
air, and collapsed to the deck. He glanced at Garrett, then at the emergency
force field between him and the cold of space. Both men were safe and alive.
Just barely. A few more inches, and they wouldn't have made it.

Sighing in the fresh oxygen, Ryko slapped his commbadge. He tapped it three
times, eliciting a startled high-pitched alert klaxon. Help was on the way.

=/\=


[Bridge, USS Terra Nova]
[October 20, 2378 - 14:33 hours ... Three and a half months later]

The doors swished open, and Lieutenant Commander Garrett Andrews strode briskly
onto the Defiant-class bridge. He'd been summoned to the bridge by his first
officer, Lieutenant Remont. An anomaly was forming just outside the ship, and
sensors had been unable to provide much information.

"Mr. Remont, report."

The young man at the ops station responded on que. He seemed a little puzzled.
"Sir sensors picked up some sort of chronoton-based anomaly off our starboard
side. It was rapidly growing in frequency, but then it vanished. The Thunderbird
has reported the same occurance."

Garrett sat down in his command chair, a curious expression on his face. "Mr.
Darnel, run a sensor sweep. See if there are any similar readings within sensor
range."

"Aye Sir." The Altimaran paused a moment as the sensor data scrolled across his
console. "Nothing within sensor range."

"Hmm. Very odd." Garrett shrugged slightly. After a moment he turned to his
operations officer. "Mr. Remont, open a channel with the Thunderbird."

Captain Shannon Applegate
Commanding Officer
USS Thunderbird
"A Moment of Truth, Revisited – Part 1"


[Bridge, USS Thunderbird]
[October 20, 2378 - 14:13 hours]

It had been about a day now since the newly re-launched Thunderbird had begun
her survey in this region of the Ryalli Expanse. She was working in conjunction
with the USS Terra Nova, and both ships were investigating Yetanni claims of
something called "The Gateway". According to Yetanni belief, this was the
location of a portal through which their ancient ancestors "communicated with
the gods". The ability to confirm this belief, however, was restricted for
centuries by the former entities who controlled the Expanse. But now they were
gone, and the Expanse was safe for travel. Science could finally stake it's
claim.

The modified Nova-class bridge whirred softly under normal operations. The crew
chatted quietly as they went about their routine scanning operations. It was a
normal day, on a normal Starfleet vessel. Well, ok, not entirely normal. Many of
the replacement parts on the Thunderbird were of Yetanni design (since new
Starfleet-issue parts were in short supply), but she still operated within
acceptable Starfleet parameters. She was still Starfleet.

The vibrant Captain Applegate, a likeable and rather attractive woman in her
late 30's, sat in the captain's chair reading reports fed from the display panel
between the command chairs. It had taken the Thunderbird and Terra Nova fifteen
days to get out to this part of the Expanse. And since this was the vessel's
first mission since relaunch, and her first command, she had made it a point to
get to know her crew. At the moment, she was looking over the new duty roster
Commander Landon had submitted.

Applegate had to laugh a bit, though. While this was the Thunderbird, much her
new crew were actually former USS Terra Nova personnel. With limited manpower in
the region, they had been pulled from other ships, and it just so happened that
the venerable little defiant-class was the biggest contributor.

For example... her Chief Ops officer and second-in-command, Virian Nchabe, was
one of the original Terra Nova crew when she was sent out into the Ryalli
Sector. Security officer, Lieutenant Timothy Kursk, though an original member of
the Thunderbird during the disasterous Ryalli Incident, had served for a brief
period of time on the Terra Nova, before being transferred back when the ship
was relaunched. And then there was Ensign Tonar Ixil, and Doctor Trace Allel,
even her new Trill chief science officer, Elara Trax. All of them had served on
the Terra Nova before reassignment.

Applegate chuckled to herself. She was presiding over a reunion. New ship; old
crew. For some reason, she found that humorous.

The soft sounds of the bridge continued to murmur in the background. So far,
this first day of scanning was uneventful. Peaceful. Quiet. Not at all like the
horror this little science vessel had gone through a few months earlier. It was
a welcome start to a new mission.

"Captain, I'm picking up strange readings from ten kilometers to port." It was
the voice of Lieutenant (jg) Trax from the science station behind Applegate.

The captain turned in her chair to face the rear science console. "Analysis?"

"They appear to be chronoton-based, although I can't get a set reading. They're
there, but they're not. Sensors aren't picking up anything concrete."

Applegate turned in her chair to face the other side of the bridge. "Mr. Nchabe,
contact the Terra Nova. See if they're picking up the same thing."

"Aye Sir."

"Captain," the now far more alarmed voice of Trax spoke up again, "the readings
are starting to spike. I'm getting elevated neutrinos in the M-band. Something's
definitely out there."

Captain Applegate turned to face the viewscreen. A yellowish-green hue was
starting to tint the black of space near the two Federation vessels. It was
faint, but it was there.

=/\=


[Bridge, USS Terra Nova]
[October 20, 2378 - 14:33 hours]

The doors swished open, and Commander Ben Braddock strode briskly onto the
Defiant-class bridge. He'd been summoned to the bridge by his first officer,
Lieutenant Remont. An anomaly was forming just outside the ship, and sensors had
been unable to provide much information.

"Mr. Remont, report."

The young man at the ops station responded on que. "Sir, sensors have picked up
some sort of chronoton-based anomaly off our starboard side. It's growing in
frequency, but has no discernable dimensions or depth. The Thunderbird has
reported the same disturbance."

Braddock sat down in his command chair, tapping a few keys on his arm rest.
"Shields up. Mr. Adarak, back us away, full impulse. Mr. Darnel, do we have any
record of anything similar in the science database?"

"Checking now, Sir." The Altimaran paused a moment as the computer finished
it’s search. "No. Nothing on record."

Braddock sighed heavily. "Mr. Remont, open a channel to the Thunderbird."

=/\=


[Deck Three, USS Terra Nova]
[July 8, 2378 - 14:38 hours ... Three and a half months earlier]

The silence in the Jeffries tube was broken as a chunk of tritanium plating fell
away from the bulkhead and crashed to the deck grating.

A moment later a crewman in a Starfleet uniform began to emerge through the new
hole. Ryko Tabor coughed violently as he tumbled into the dark Jeffries tube.
The dim emergency lights revealed the smoke rolling in around him from the
survival locker. He crawled away, eyes watering uncontrollably from the burning,
noxious gases.

As he smacked into a support structure, he stopped and blinked away the tears.
He leaned back against the bulkhead, sitting in the confined space as he took in
his surroundings in the deep red lighting.

He wiped at his eyes, streaking the tears across his smoke smudged face. His
breathing slowly began to return to normal, with sporadic coughs.

He hated this. Starfleet. He was rapidly coming to that conclusion. It wasn't
just a dislike anymore, being uncomfortable out in the fleet. No matter where he
was or what he did, things always went wrong. He had cheated death as much in
the past three months as he had in the entire two years of the Dominion
occupation of Betazed. The only difference was that the occupation was over --
the Starfleet Debacle was ongoing.

He coughed again, squinting his eyes shut as puffs of grey-black smoke were
expelled from his lungs. He reached up to tap at his commbadge again. "Tabor to
Sickbay." The words sent him coughing again, drowning out the response. "Sorry,
say that again?" he finally asked. His hands were trembling from the surge of
artificial hormones he had had to inject to keep himself coherent against the
Qu-rog sedative.

"Are you still in the survival locker?" Christia answered.

"No, I..." He coughed, glancing back at the hole in the bulkhead. "I got out."
He looked around at the darkened Jeffries tube, wondering again just what kind
of damage he'd caused.

"Can you get to deck three, section two?"

He shot a disbelieving look toward the ceiling. "I think so," he said, checking
the charge on his phaser. Cutting through the bulkhead had cost a significant
portion of the available power, but it was still good.

"Good. Commander Andrews called in that he was injured."

Ryko's head popped up at mention of Garrett's being injured. He started crawling
toward the nearest access hatch. "Where is he?" Deck three, section two was,
after all, a sizable section of the ship -- even if it was a small ship.

"Somewhere near the number four pulse cannon. We don't know for sure, internal
sensors just went down."

"Understood," he said quietly, heaving himself to the hatch. That was probably
his fault. "I'm on my way."

As the channel closed, he cracked open the hatch and peered into the corridor,
phaser at the ready in case the drones were waiting for him. When it seemed
clear, he eased himself out and backed against the bulkhead, closing the hatch
and watching the corridor carefully. He cranked his head to the right at the
sound of an engine whir, cautiously peering around the corner to see the pair of
drones still waiting for him outside the equipment locker, lasers scanning back
and forth across the smooth surface.

Well, at least there was one good thing about them -- they were stupid.

Granted, they weren't the ones who had cut through the bulkhead and done who
knew how much damage to who knew how many systems either. But he didn't want to
think about that right now.

He stepped quickly across the corridor, phaser trained on the drones, but
neither seemed to take notice.

He hurried along the corridor, arcing just aft of the holosuites, then carefully
cutting across the deck's main corridor, eyes darting back and forth for more
drones. He slapped at his commbadge again. "Tabor to Andrews." When he got no
response, he spoke again. "Sir, if you can respond, make some noise." He paused
again, waiting for some sort of answer. When he received none, he added, "I'm on
my way to you now. I'll be there in just a minute." He walked quickly past the
cargo bay, hanging a left at the next intersection and heading toward Andrews's
last known position near the pulse cannon.

As he turned left again, he froze. There was Andrews, pinned beneath a collapsed
support beam, with a very large man standing over him. The unidentified man
turned toward him and Ryko saw the large, black eyes... the missing nose. "What
the--?" He barely had time to react as an energy bolt screamed past his chest.
Ryko dropped back, crashing to the deck on his backside as his own phaser came
up and fired in response.

Ryko's beam caught the alien squarely in the chest, flinging him back and over
Andrews. The young Betazoid sat on the deck in a shocked silence for a long
moment, stunned beyond belief that he had actually made that shot -- let alone
that he had just shot a Belstaisi.

Finally, regripping his phaser as he stood, he shot another quick look around,
then cautiously approached the pair. "Commander? Are you all right?" he asked,
phaser trained on the sprawled alien. Andrews nodded, then grimaced toward the
beam pinning him. "Right. Ryko squatted next to him, working his hands beneath
the beam to be sure there were no major injuries concealed by it. "Let's see if
I can get you out of there..." He grabbed a smaller piece of a support that had
broken off, wedging it beneath the beam as a lever and throwing his weight into
it.

He never saw or heard the impact from behind that lifted him off the deck and
sent him sailing across the corridor -- barely saw the console and bulkhead
before his body collided and demolished it.

His ears were ringing from an explosion, he decided as he crashed down onto the
deck. The roar of air sweeping past him quickly snapped him back to the reality
of the situation, as he felt himself being dragged along the ripped carpet.

Ryko lifted his head to see... stars. He blinked. But sure enough, there they
were... stars speckling the blackness of space, bordered by the whitish haze of
the ship's atmosphere condensing and crystallizing as it exploded through the
jagged hole in the Terra Nova's hull. The number four pulse cannon was gone,
along with the surrounding chunk of hull.

His hands clutched frantically at anything that was bolted down, slicing his
palms along the jagged edges of the broken deck. His training kicked in
automatically and he stayed low to the deck to prevent the hurricane force winds
from getting beneath him and flinging him end over end out into space. As his
body was swept toward the hull breach, he quickly became aware that Starfleet
ships needed far more gripping surfaces to prevent just this sort of problem.

He looked up in time to see the Belstaisi blown through the breach, tumbling off
into space. His arm smacked into the beam that had been pinning Andrews. He
wrapped his arms instinctively around it, holding onto the heavy chunk of metal.
It didn't take long for him to realize that it, too, was racing toward the
breach.

Ryko saw Andrews sweeping past him and reached out, latching his hand around the
man's collar. With nothing else available to grab for support, they continued
sliding across the deck toward the hole.

Garrett was the first one through, clutching at the edge of the hull and the
crewman. The beam slammed into the hole, wedging firmly and jolting to a sudden
stop. Ryko held on for dear life, his face contorting under the strain of
holding himself against the wind, while trying to keep a hold of Andrews. He
gritted his teeth, pulling himself with all the strength he had remaining until
the beam was tucked firmly against his chest.

He cried out at a sudden electrical surge running through his body as the
emergency fields flared into place, causing his muscles to stiffen momentarily.
It was just long enough for him to lose his grip on Andrews.

His skin crawling from the charge racing through his body, Ryko's now free hand
went to the beam. Free of the winds battering him in the face, he gasped in the
suddenly still air and heaved himself back inside the ship to collapse on the
deck. He slapped at his communicator, but couldn't summon the breath to speak.

As he lay there, his head rotated around to the left, toward the hull breach
that had almost cost him his life. He jerked upright as something outside caught
his attention. There, less than a meter away, was Commander Andrews, his uniform
snagged on the jagged section of the destroyed hull.

Andrews was motionless, dangling against the backdrop of stars, but Ryko knew
Humans could survive very limited vacuum exposure -- and even if he didn't, he
may be revived if he could get medical attention quickly enough. He slapped at
the commbadge again, but once more, couldn't muster the volume to register a
call for help. Finally, he tapped it three times quickly, eliciting a startled,
high-pitched alert klaxon.

Ryko looked around frantically for some idea of what to do. Smash something.
Yes, that might work. He glanced around for something to attack. There, in the
wreckage of the hull breach, was what appeared to be some sort of power
distribution system, exposed behind the destroyed bulkhead. If he could damage
that, maybe the forcefield would fall and he could pull Andrews back inside.

Of course then the forcefield would be down... and he'd be in a vacuum, too.

But he might be able to get them behind the next forcefield over or--

He looked through the field again. If he thought about it much longer, there
would be no chance whatsoever of reviving Andrews.

He made his decision, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the jammed beam
again. He took several deep breaths to oxygenate his tissues, then exhaled as
fully as possible. Once he was sure he was secure, he threw all his weight into
a kick in the power thing, then again, until it flashed and went off-line. As
he'd hoped, the forcefield followed suit, and once again Ryko was slammed by the
hurricane force winds. The air blew explosively from his lungs through his mouth
as his ears popped in the massive change of pressure.

If he'd had time to think about it, he'd probably have questioned his sanity for
a decision like this, voluntarily exposing himself to vacuum, he'd probably have
thought better of it.

Ryko was colder than he had ever been before. In even the brief exposure, he
could barely feel his extremities. He had reached frostbite in the first couple
of seconds. His hands were already frosting over. His vision was virtually gone
in the brief moments he allowed himself to open his eyes. And he didn't even
want to think about what was happening to his lungs...

At the moment though, with the hurricane force winds slamming loose debris into
his body as he fought to keep from being blown through the hole in the side of
the ship, he had the sinking feeling that he had just made that one,
catastrophically bad decision that would kill him.

After a few seconds the winds slowed and finally stopped altogether. Ryko knew
they would stay off this time, given the lack of ability to establish an
emergency field.

Ryko gripped the beam and extended himself out of the ship, gripping Andrews's
arm and heaving with all of his might. Just when he thought it was futile, he
felt the fabric of the commander's uniform give way and Ryko tumbled, startled,
backward into the ship with Garrett in tow.

His chest burned as his body tried in desperation to draw in a breath. He
grabbed at the commander's arms, dragging him along behind him as he stumbled
blindly toward the bend in the corridor. As the fuzzy blackness began to close
in on him, Ryko dropped to his knees, dragging desperately to reach the corner.
He slapped his hand onto Andrews's chest, clapping his commbadge three times to
activate the distress beacon as well. In the vacuum, he couldn't hear whether
the klaxon sounded, so he just continued to stumble along toward the
intersection.

When he finally reached the place where the bulkhead stopped, taking a 90 degree
turn to the right, Ryko threw all of his strength into dragging Andrews that
last meter until they were both clear. When he was sure they were, he reached up
blindly, unable to see even the panel in front of him anymore, and slapped at
the smooth control surface.

The emergency bulkhead slid smoothly into place between them and the breach.
Ryko crumpled to the deck as the ship began filling the now isolated section
with breathable atmosphere.

It seemed like an eternity later, but was probably only a few seconds, when he
felt hands easing him over onto his back. He opened his eyes to look up, but saw
only darkness. "Belstaisi," he said urgently, then coughed uncontrollably. He
hoped beyond hope that whoever it was would understand what had to be an
immensely weak and raspy voice. He heard a sound in response, but didn't
understand. "Belstaisi," he said again. He reached out toward where he'd left
Andrews, his arm falling across the commander's lifeless chest. The deep voice
reached his ears again, but once again he couldn't make out the words.

But something about the voice seemed soothing, somehow reassuring. Or maybe he
was picking up on mental impressions from the speaker.

"You're on your own," he croaked, head lolling back in delirium as
unconsciousness began to overtake him. "I'm taking a coffee break."

Captain Shadran Daysic
Chief of Security
USS Terra Nova

Crewman Ryko Tabor
Medical Technician
USS Terra Nova
"Commonalities"


[Mess Hall, USS Terra Nova]
[October 2, 2378 -- 1902 hours]

"Ya know," the thick drawl came from behind the bar, "when I hear an accent like
that, I expect to see a cowboy hat."

"I got one in my quarters," Shadran Daysic returned, grinning to himself.

"Ya don't say?" The ship's chef stepped forward with a friendly smile, offering
his hand. "Name's Sam Jacobi."

"Shad Daysic," the Andorian answered, accepting the gesture with an immediacy
foreign to so many aliens. "Always good to meet a fellow Texan. Where're ya
from? Austin? Waco?"

"Right in between," Sam said, leaning against the bar. "Val Verde. You?"

"Del Rio, born and raised."

"Ah, you're a border boy." Shad nodded. "How 'bout that little blue fella I saw
running around yesterday?"

"Yeah, he's mine," Shad chuckled quietly. "But he's a space baby. Didn't set
foot on Earth 'til he was about eighteen months."

"He's a cute kid."

"Thanks," the Andorian smiled proudly.

"Only child?"

Shad shook his head, taking a mug offered by the chef and swirling the black
liquid curiously. "Nah, he's the third. Two girls who go between loving him and
beating him up." He took a sip of the coffee, eyes widening in surprise. "That's
good..."

The chef grinned his pride. "My own blend. I heard ya liked coffee."

"Thanks."

Sam nodded. "Ya know, only two people have ever figured out where I was from by
my accent." He paused, considering curiously. "And they're both in this room...
kinda spooky."

Shad took silent account of the others in the room. Sinclair, Casey, McGriff,
and Tabor. "Which one?"

"Ryko over there," Jacobi nodded toward the crewman seated alone at a table,
engrossed in a padd. "Nailed it right down to the town."

"Really," Daysic leaned back against the bar, observing the crewman quietly.

"He's an interesting little guy. Musician. Just won the 'Voices of the
Federation' a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah, I caught that." Shad shrugged with a lopsided grin. "My wife never misses
an episode." The Andorian continued to study Ryko from across the room. "Pretty
good for somebody his age."

"Pretty good for anybody," Jacobi spoke up.

Shad glanced over for a moment to see the chef polishing a glass with a rag,
like the bartenders of so many centuries before him. "I think I'll go over and
say hi," he decided aloud. He cocked his head toward Jacobi. "Nice to meet ya,
Sam."

"Likewise," the chef said. A knowing grin spread across his face, as if some
divine plan had come to fruition.

The security chief stood, sipping his coffee as he weaved, unseeingly, between
the tables until he was standing beside the Betazoid. "Mind if I join ya, Mr.
Tabor?"

Ryko looked up in surprise. "Umm, yes, sir. I mean, no..." Ryko sat back,
sighing at his own inability to communicate and gesturing toward the other
across from him. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Nothin'," the Andorian answered as he dropped into the seat. "Just wanted to
stop by and say congratulations." Ryko stared at him blankly, brow furrowing in
confusion. "For winning the contest."

"Oh!" Ryko sat forward, placing his padd on the table. "Thank you, sir. It's not
really that big a deal."

"'Course it is. My wife was cheerin' ya on," Shad said as he rested his mug
between his hands. Ryko smiled, flushing a bright red, looking down at the padd
in embarrassment. "Whatcha readin'?"

"Oh, it's, uh, a Merinian composition," Ryko slid the padd toward him.

Shad lifted the padd, giving it a cursory glance. The multi-layer overlays of
the padd displays allowed the blind man to register the various aspects of the
musical score before him. "You can read this?" he asked skeptically.

"Ummm... yes, sir. It's... not so bad, they just kind of come at scores from a
different angle than most cultures."

"I'll take your word for it," Shad said, passing the padd back to him, "what
instrument's this for?"

"Oh, that's for a nu-chag. It's a sort of... low frequency stringed instrument,
only instead of plucking the strings, you strike them with this little hammer."

Sorta like a dulcimer." Ryko looked at him and shrugged his ignorance of the
device in question. "Oh, it's an old Earth instrument. Mostly from the American
south, I think."

"I've never heard of it," Ryko said curiously, making the mental note to look it
up later. "You're a musician, sir?"

"Me? Nah, not really. I play the harmonica a little..."

"The what?"

"Harmonica. It's..." Shad's mouth twisted into an amused grin at the excitement
playing across Ryko's face and voice. "How do you not know the harmonica?" Ryko
shrugged. "It's a wind instrument." He held his fingers ten or twelve
centimeters apart. "Maybe about this long, with little holes you-- look, I've
got one in my quarters. If you wanna stop by later, I'd be happy to show ya."

"Yes, sir," Ryko said with an eager nod, the thought of a chance to learn about
a new musical instrument just a little too appealing to pass up, "I'd like
that."

"Good." The lopsided grin returned again. "Why don't you stop by, say, around
2030 hours."

"I'll be there, sir."

The Andorian stood, smiling, and gestured appreciatively toward Sam with the
coffee mug as he strolled toward the door.

___________________________________________________________