What We Don't Say In The Silence

Posted on Aug 26, 2015 @ 11:54am by Captain Kassandra Thytos & Lieutenant James Barton
Edited on on Aug 26, 2015 @ 11:54am

Mission: The Lights of Hyperion

What We Don't Say In the Silence (continued from 'Unfinished Business')


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"The silence is the worst part of any fight, because it's made up of all the things we wish we could say, if we had the guts." - Pete Wentz


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SCENE: USS PHOENIX Corridors

TIME INDEX: During the events of "Meltdown"


The corridors were mostly dark, and quiet as they moved, but neither of them trusted the silence. Major Kassandra Thytos hustled in front, occasionally offering a meaningful glance behind at him. Through the viewplate of her armor, he thought he saw consternation on her face, though he couldn't be sure; her eyes didn't give her away the way most people's did and beyond sporadic two-word encouragements to keep up, she wasn't talking. He couldn't tell if her frustration stemmed from his inability to keep pace in the unfamiliar and deceptively ungainly Marine armor while weighed down by the improvised graviton emitter, his behavior in Engineering, or what she'd learned about his past. Alternatively, it could be borne from the cocktail of Marine Command-approved narcotics in her system, or the unpredictable process of coming down from them. Finally, though she was generally good-natured, Kass could also just get into a fighting mood for her own reasons or for none at all, so it was hard to guess.



She was the closest thing he had to a friend on this ship, the closest thing he'd had to a friend in years, and she'd just learned that long ago, he'd taken a false name. In truth, outside of his nightmares, he'd almost forgotten the moniker he'd carried in his first life. He hadn't thought of it in a long, long time until he'd seen this ship moored outside of LIMBO Station. Now he was inside of her, his secret life laid bare, and his "real" name unearthed. He knew that he should focus on the task at hand, but he couldn't keep himself from thinking about it, testing it with his mind like a loose tooth. *James Barton, Jim. Jim Barton. Bar...ton.* It was oddly strange to him, comfortable but unfamiliar, and for a part of him, it was like it had never been his name at all.



He couldn't deny an impulse within him to explain that to her, to make her understand, to tell her that Jacen Barnes hadn't really lied to her because he'd all but forgotten about James Barton himself. There was a lot of the truth in that, even though it was a lie. But he was stubborn, and embarrassed, and off-balance, so he swallowed and kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't know how she'd react if he reached out to her, and he didn't know how he'd respond to a rejection. He was also still keyed up himself from his wounds, the confrontation with Kane, and Kass' dressing down after. Finally, there was the issue to sort through of the USS PHOENIX's affiliation, or lack thereof, from Starfleet.



When you considered all that, along with the fact that many of the rioters were still running loose in the ship, rudderless now but for their own destructive impulses, it wasn't hard to understand why there was very little peace in the quiet as they walked. Every second that passed was heavy with the certainty that he would speak, or she would, or one of the refugees would seemingly appear from nowhere, or one of the Amaterasu would actually appear from nowhere, and the world around them would explode.



And yet, with every second that passed, none of that happened, so they continued to trudge forward with difficulty. He readjusted the straps attaching the transport container to his back, careful not to undo the intricately knotted harness that connected them to the tank. The device was a testament to the power of improvised engineering. The tank housed a series of force field coils that generated the graviton particles. These were shunted along a length of magnetically shielded cable through the emitter matrix of a modified phaser rifle, the barrel of which now more closely resembled a vacuum cleaner attachment. It was slapdash and the short length of tubing between the tank and the rifle made for an unforgiving grip, but Crichton's assistant Sylvia had assured them that it would be effective in closing localized subspace fissures, violently cutting off the conduits and effectively killing Amaterasu in the affected area.



The problem, she explained, was that due to the size of the coils they had to work with, he would need to carry the device. Kass had frowned at that, but she couldn't argue. The tank was nearly taller than she was, and even as it was, it extended below his knee, making it difficult for him to walk. Warren had further added to their troubles by explaining that while it would prove some use against the Amaterasu in front of them, it would be most useful in sealing the ruptures before the creatures manifested. Kass' sensors would make those plain to her, but his hands would be full of the modified rifle, so he couldn't carry and read a tricorder.



"So I can't shoot 'em, and he can't see 'em," Kass had summarized with a groan. She was not pleased with this turn of events; she was a woman used to self sufficiency, and seemed to take the proclamation of her physical limitations as though it were a personal slight. She turned dejectedly towards him. "And so between the both of them, they licked the platter clean..."



The worst part had been moving the thing up the ladders between decks. The maintenance hatches and tunnels were almost impassable for him already, let alone in the Marine armor; there was no chance he'd be able to make it through with the tank strapped to him. They were left with no choice but to manhandle the tank up the ladders. He stood below, one arm clutching the ladder, while his other, with no appreciable grip to speak of, tried to force the tank higher. Above, Kass was trying to provide some sense of steering, but it was rough going. She had a one-handed grip on the ladder as well, the other reaching down between her thighs to barely get her fingers under a lip on the tank. As a result, she was nearly doubled, her backside thrust outward and nearly bouncing off the rear wall of the tube. Rung by single rung they scaled, sometimes for a deck at a time and sometimes for many in a row, all trying to not excessively disturb the workings inside the tank. Each time they cleared a deck and had wrestled the tank onto the carpet, they'd each glance at the other, silently asking about the other's ability to continue. Then they'd continue.



He'd lost track exactly what deck they were on, and though he'd once known the specs on a Galaxy class ship cold, that had been a long time ago and this ship was just subtly different. He thought it might be deck 16, but it could have been 15, when suddenly she held up a hand in a tight fist, unmistakably signaling him silently to halt. Inside the helmet of his suit, he heard more of his own breathing than anything piped in through the armor's microphones, so he had no idea what she was reacting to. He realized it was most likely nothing she'd heard as much as something her sensors had revealed to her. He stiffened, hoping that it wasn't the Amaterasu; though he didn't relish the idea of fighting rioters while under the weight of the emitter, he also couldn't forget Savaar's bubbling remains on the Engineering deck and that seemed worse. She held up two fingers, then gestured at the right hand passage of an upcoming four-way intersection in the corridor. She unholstered her phaser and dropped into a one-knee firing stance, more gracefully than he could ever hope to in the restrictive armor. She drew a bead on the corner, and waited.



Unable to kneel with the load on his back, and unarmed but for the stun baton he couldn't reach with the deweaponized rifle in his hands, he felt terribly exposed. Kass was in front of him, but crouched low, and would never present the target that he would to an attacker. He wondered what he would do if fighting broke out. Could he slip loose of the straps without dismantling the harness or dropping the tank? Kass had helped him out of it and back in each time they'd had to climb a ladder, and she wouldn't be doing that. Could he try to fight with the thing on his back? He was strong, but not superhuman and he didn't see that going well for him. Furthermore, he honestly didn't know how much of a jostle the interior workings could handle, but he also didn't want to be responsible for pushing them past their limits. He forced himself to breathe, and then he did hear something from up ahead. A voice, whispering...no, it was two voices. Coming closer. They were engaged in a hushed conversation.



As the pair came around the corner, he immediately recognized the smaller of the two. Maines, the kid with the weird sense of humor. The young man was flanked by Salvador Guerrero, one of Silsby's recruits that he hadn't had the opportunity to get to know well. They were each carrying a two-foot section of piping that had obviously been wrenched out of some maintenance hatch or storage space. Barnes tried to speak, to interject on what was about to happen, but Kass saw the weapons and responded immediately. Her warning shot screamed high over Maines' head, though from the look on his face, it was obvious it didn't seem terribly high to Maines.



"Holy sh-" the young man hollered as he ducked. His partner went pale, but found the resolve not to run. Guerrero stepped forward, brandishing his pipe.



"Drop your weapons," Thytos barked. Her stance was loose, but Barnes knew it was deceptive, her weight was balanced in such a way that she’d be able to throw herself in an attack instantly, and the tension in her shoulders told him that she was nearing that decision point.



"Are you crazy," Guerrero demanded. "We're trying to help!".



"Drop. The. Goddamn. Pipes," Kass repeated. “I ain’t no Space Cadet. I ain’t gonna bargain, I’m gonna shoot, and I shoot to kill.”



The behemoth behind her put a hand on her shoulder. "Kass, they're mine." Raising his voice, he addressed the pair of newcomers. "Stand down, you idiots!" He thumbed the seal release on his helmet and tore it off, showing them his wild hair and unkempt beard. "Before you get your asses shot."



Guerrero looked stunned and glared suspiciously at him, then at the Marine armor he wore. Kass cocked her head at the pair, neither firing nor readjusting her aim on them. To guess from looking at Maines, a person would have thought he was expecting this. His initial recoil from the phaser bolt notwithstanding, he looked utterly nonplussed, almost bored. "Might be better than listening to any more of this guy's conspiracy theories."



Guerrero looked stunned, and hurt. "It's not a conspiracy theory! I don't have a theory! I'm just asking some questions about why..."



"Please shoot me," Maines said to the Marine. "Or him. Shoot one of us." He paused, considering. "Shoot him."



"Report," the ad hoc sheriff of Shantytown snarled. "What have you found?"



Guerrero spoke up. "Some trouble here and there. We sent a few folks back to the cargo bay. Took these off of a pair of them, but honestly, I couldn't tell you where they came from if my life depended on it. Not near as bad as what Marta and Carter ran up against."



"You heard from them? Are they-" he lost the words.



Guerrero took his meaning. "They're not dead, but Cam took a nasty beating. Marta's better off, but not by a lot. I guess a lot of folks ended up hovering around the 'safe zone' quarters and they stepped into a hornet's nest over there."



"Okay, here's what we need to do. The rioters aren't the most dangerous things on the ship anymore, so I want you two to start making your way back downdecks to the cargo bay. Make a clearing search of each deck as you go, but do it on the hustle. If you find stragglers, take them with you. If you run into our guys, they join up with you too. If you get resistance, it's not your job to bring them in line. Remember what deck you ran into the trouble and tell Virgo when you get to Shantytown. On your way, if you encounter strange lights, stay the hell away. If you see them in a tube while you're climbing down, climb back up and find another way around."



"What kind of lights are you talking about," Guerrero asked, the wheels of some new conspiracy theory already turning behind his eyes.



"I don't have time to explain and I don't have time to repeat myself, Guerrero," he snapped. "So what do you do with the lights?"



"Stay away from them?" The bearded man's tone had drawn a response from Guerrero before he could even process the question. Kass had heard the nickname and seen Barnes with his 'deputies' previously, but she'd never thought he seemed much like a sheriff at all. Instead, she'd always thought he sounded eerily like a Starfleet crew chief. Now, at least, she knew why.



"Good," he answered. Then he turned to Maines. "What about you?"



"Stay away from the lights. Don't go to the light," the young man replied in a sarcastic, but not an argumentative tone. "I got it.".



"You got it. Get going, Keep your eyes open. Stay safe."



Maines nodded at him, then at Kass. "Ma'am."



As they turned to move, Kass spoke up. "If you all run across any of my Marines, you pay attention to any directions they give you, and do it a hell of a lot quicker than you did with me. You got me?"



She couldn't see, but she could sense the younger man glancing at the person he knew as Jacen Barnes, looking for guidance. She could feel that man nod back, signaling that Maines should obey her. The two deputies turned and made their way off, and they were left alone. It was a loaded moment and while neither spoke, the acknowledgment of it hung in the air between them. The kid had questioned her authority to the sheriff, and while he hadn't contradicted her, neither had he exactly deferred to her. Again, the silence between them strained.



"Let's get going," she finally said. A part of her was angry with herself for being too tired to be angry enough to fight with him. Another part of her was secretly relieved to not have to.


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SCENE: Deck Four

TIME INDEX: Beginning during 'Meltdown' and continuing through 'Cruxes'

As they made their way down the corridor toward the forward array, Kass began to notice the radiation trails left in the wake of the Amaterasu. The change wasn't gradual or subtle; there was no radiation to speak of and a few steps later they were all but choking on it.



"We're hot," she announced, her voice flat. She didn’t seem like one to be overly concerned about the radiation, but he still caught something that sounded surprisingly like a flicker of fear in her voice, although he didn’t know exactly what it was.



He found himself instinctively looking around, although he knew that he'd see no sign. He didn't envy her having a Geiger counter in her head. If he was going to have to march through radioactivity, he'd just as soon be as unaware as possible. He was surprised when he noticed that he was holding his breath, as if that would protect him. Silently he chided himself for his foolishness and took a deep breath, dry and sterile for having passed through the armor's filters.



Suddenly, Kass was pointing to a spot about five feet in front of them. "There," she stated. "It's spiking."



Unsure of exactly what to expect, he pointed the modified rifle at the place she indicated and thumbed the trigger. A mighty thrum moved through the tank on his back, and he felt the balance on the rifle shift, but there seemed no other effect. No discernible beam manifested from the barrel and there was no sound. He thought for a moment that the experiment had failed. Perhaps they hadn't been careful enough in transporting the weapon. Suddenly, he saw, in the spot Kass had pointed, a faint glow appear. However, no sooner than it began to glow, the emerging light faded to darkness and shrank away. He turned questioningly towards Thytos.



"The spike is gone. It's dead." He was stunned to realize that while Jacen Barnes didn't particularly care, Jim Barton had a visceral reaction to that. His stomach lurched. Before there was time to process the thought any further, Kass pointed again. "There!"



He fired again and again one of the beings erupted and faded before them. "Let's go," he said, thumbing open the door and waving her through.



They entered the forward phaser array. The room was oddly shaped, placed as it was high on the 'neck' of the USS PHOENIX. The walls in front of them ran inward to a point, giving the room a generally triangular shape. Central to each of those walls and mounted in the center were the new Mark 1 Polaron Phasers. The phaser banks were much larger than the traditional Starfleet phasers, which had been streamlined over decades of use and refinement. Moreover, in addition to the typical targeting computers and autonomous backup power supplies, alongside the new banks were mounted additional computer systems that maintained the fragile conditions within the bank to weaponize the polaron particles. The integration of polarons, which were particles known in matter physics to dramatically affect the interactions between electrons and atoms within solid material, into the weapons systems was a monumental step forward in Federation weapon technology. The wall behind them was crowded with storage lockers stuffed with repair parts, in case of battle damage. As a result, the room, though large, was cramped even as they stepped through.



More pressing, both literally and figuratively, however was the light show on display as they entered. Thytos could, with time enough, separate and identify the multitude of individual radiation sources in the room, but to him there was no comprehending it. It seemed as if someone had set off a dozen fireworks shows at once. If the Amaterasu had come to eat and mate, then the phaser array and the residual charge after Embry's hysterical display was an otherworldly orgy worthy of the dreams of early Rome's craziest emperors.



He immediately pointed the rifle at a few of the brightest lights and thumbed the trigger. They slowly dimmed and he moved his aim on two more, firing again. It wasn't like what they'd experienced in the corridor outside. That light had faded quickly, as these went there was a quavering flicker to them. He was unable to get the phrases, "clean kill," and "bleeding out," to cease repeating in a spiral inside his head. Two more lights sprang up to his left.



"They're coming in. I can see new signatures spiking," Kass was near shouting, but still holding a white knuckle grip on her composure. "You're not sending the particles in the right direction." She pointed to a spot partially between the two new lights, a little closer to the lower one. He thumbed the trigger at empty space and the two orbs quickly faded away. Some of the lights in the room were beginning to float towards them.



"Two o'clock. About as high as your knees."



"Got it." For the moment, there were no doubts or reservations, no resentment about secrets kept or questions about what would happen now that they'd come to light. For better or worse, those misgivings were compartmentalized and shut away to grow in strength for their inevitable resurgence while they fell, naturally and without note, into a clockwork. She was backed against him, her back settled as best as the armor would allow against both him and the tank. She would point, he would step, and she would chart his move with her sensors, matching it nearly perfectly. He trusted her eye and she trusted his aim and for two creatures such as they were, those were powerful things to trust in.



Again and again, the modified rifle fired invisibly. It was like fighting a Hydra. He'd fire where she directed him, and the lights of one of the Amaterasu would go dark, but two more would immediately flare up around them. He tried to remember what the radiation shielding specifications were on Marine armor, but quickly gave up the thought. Already he felt nausea climbing his chest, and he knew that the treatment course to clear the radiation sickness would be intense.



"On your seven, five feet off the deck," Kass shouted at him. He pivoted to his left, raised the rifle and fired. One of the orange lights began to manifest, then darkened and faded nearly immediately. Another one dead. He wondered if these creatures were sentient, if they had any understanding of what he was doing to them. He wondered if they grieved.



Crichton had seemed relatively certain that the creatures were entirely unaware of the humanoids' existence, but the way three more lights flared up around them made him wonder. It certainly seemed as if they were coming to take vengeance. More likely, the energy in the coils on his pack wasn't shielded enough to keep the Amaterasu from 'catching the scent.' Seeing them manifest, he and Kass made the only move they could and leapt away. However, if they were intelligent, and if there was some method or pattern to the way they would 'attack,' then either Kass or he could counter that with some sort of strategy to control the field of engagement. There wasn't though. They appeared in a chaos and the two humans could only stagger blindly in response.



In the end, it didn't matter if the Amaterasu lacked intellect or possessed it in greater measure than the two of them, because the results were the same. Kass and he had been outmaneuvered and pushed away from the door, towards the phaser mount along the starboard hull. Now they were cut off from escape. Again, the vision of Savaar's remains bubbled up in his mind, and he was becoming certain he'd share the Vulcan's fate.



Kass stiffened against him, and for a moment, he feared for her, but realized she must have some sort of plan as she dropped to her knees on the deck, reaching underneath the large phaser bank mounted in the wall behind them. What are you doing," he demanded. If one of those things appeared near them without her giving warning...



"Gettin' us outta here. Fire up your boot clamps and seal off your breather!"



"What?"



"Activate the clamps, Jebediah! Now!"



He did so, and suddenly the armor, which had been unwieldy before, became nigh a prison as the magnetic clamps throughout the suit and the extra powerful magnets in the boots powered up. At the same moment, he felt a mighty hand trying to yank him to the floor backwards, and all sound vanished explosively from the room. The force pulling on him was immense, and the magnetic locks of the armor strained against it. Turning to Kass, he watched as her legs, sticking out from under the phaser bank slid forward and out of view.



In a flash, he realized what she'd done. There were manual hatches underneath and behind the phaser mounts, set into the wall to allow engineers to access the exterior of the mountings to make fine calibrations. Opening the hatch had explosively decompressed the room they were in, ejecting its atmosphere into the void of space and trying to take them with it. For a moment, he thought that Kass had been swept away, but he realized that she hadn't vanished fast enough to have been caught up in the pull. More likely, she'd utilized the other magnetics in her armor to brace herself against the floor or underside of the phaser bank, then relaxed it just enough to motor her way out of the hatch.



The pull was beginning to lessen as the pressure began to equalize. He bent jerkily to a knee, unslinging the harness as he did so. He laid the tank on its side under the phaser bank and pushed it forward gently. The current of atmosphere was still strong enough to catch it and carry it forward. He watched the rifle trail the tank under the phaser bank and disappear, as Kass had done. Hopefully, she'd catch the tank as it emerged from the hatch. If not, then it would float forever inside the nebula.



He continued his move, dropping to his hands and knees in front of the phaser bank. Then, he turned off his boot clamps and tried to wrestle his way under the obstruction. He could see the hatch that Kass had escaped through. As he moved forward, carried by the ever-lessening grip of depressurization, he realized that he had overestimated how much it had slacked off. He was careening towards the hatch at a speed too great to control.



His head and left arm emerged from the hatch into the space outside even as his right shoulder impacted the side of the hull squarely. It sang to him a high, insistent song of protest and he knew that without the armor, he'd have just snapped his collarbone in half. The impediment slowed him, and began to twist him as well. He worried that he wouldn't emerge in a position that his magnetics would engage the ship, and that it would be him, not the tank, left to float among the eternal magnastorm.



She was there again to save him, one hand holding onto the tank, the other catching his arm and forcing his spin in the other direction. Thus corrected, he quickly thrust his still-tender right arm through the hatch and pulled himself the rest of the way through. He quickly keyed on his magnetics, and all at once, he was half-sitting and half-laying on the gunmetal gray armor of the PHOENIX, willing his terror sweat to subside inside his suit.



Kass' voice from the suit-to-suit comm surprised him. [[You alright?]] He whipped his head toward her to answer, but ended up looking beyond her and saying nothing.



He'd traveled on starships and walked space stations his entire life. He'd entered Starfleet Academy as a young man, had the beginnings of a fantastic career, then slid into Vulcan and his father's madness. After that, it was back once again to starships and space stations, so he often said that he'd lived most of his life "in space." But every time he'd ever found himself EVA he realized all over again that none of that was life in space. Being in space meant being where he was now, trapped inside a tin can just big enough for you and having the whole of infinity look you dead in your eye and call you 'nothing.' His breath and his sense of self were swallowed by his staggering smallness and his brain spun loop-de-loops trying to make some sense of the scale of it all. A part of him wondered why he could see stars, even within the expanse, when the dense clouds of the magnastorm should have blocked them. Then terror jammed a thumb up his ass when he realized that the millions, if not billions, of lights that surrounded the ship for a lifetime in all directions weren't stars, but in fact the radioactive Amaterasu.

"Jesus..." he whispered.



Kassandra’s face loomed up in his view, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes as though she didn’t have time for anyone to have a breakdown, lips parted as though she was letting loose an exasperated sigh. Her finger moved to hover over the suit-to-suit comms button on her wristband, and she opened her mouth as though she was going to say something, a witty or snide jab at him for his momentary loss of of composure. Instead the color drained from her face and her eyes became white rimmed with what could only be described as naked terror. It was not a look that sat well on her face, and he suddenly became acutely aware that once you stripped away the braggadocio and giant personality, Kassandra was really a very small woman.



She grabbed his hand and yanked urgently. He reached to pull down the graviton emitter and rifle that hung weightlessly near his head, and she sharply slapped his hand away from it demanding his full attention. Her eyes were still wide, crazed, and he could tell she was panting by the flicker of condensation on her helmet. She was mouthing something to him, but hadn’t had the presence of mind to turn on her mic. He wondered if she’d gone space-crazy. Something akin to the aquanaut’s ‘rapture of the deep,’ maybe her oxygen mixture was off...



Out of nowhere, she coiled and sprang. She disconnected her magnets as part of her lunge, flew towards him like a torpedo, and brutally smashed into his chestplate. The blow, impressive in it’s power, drove him backwards and, with a sick wave of nausea overtaking him, he felt the magnets connecting him to the hull give way. She'd killed him. He was going to float away, away into the incomprehensible void among the stars to freeze to death and...



Suddenly, Kassandra's legs were locked around his waist. She'd leaped onto and straddled him as he floated, and her hands were grasping at his head with a dreadful need. He thought perhaps she meant to tear his helmet off, but no sooner had he formed the thought than she grabbed a hold of either side of it and twisted his head, forcefully re-directing his gaze. He froze, and his nausea and terror climbed higher into his throat.



Only three decks above them, the saucer was careening toward the drive section where they stood. Beyond huge and surpassing ominous, it loomed over them, cutting off the light of the Hyperion Expanse like an eclipse. Flickering around the edges of the saucer were a swarm of Amaterasu creating a nimbus of colored flame around the grey of the saucer. Just the size of it was awe-inspiring, terrifying, but he suddenly understood the look on Kassandra’s face. It moving, it was moving fast, and it was coming right for them.



[[Barnes, you idiot, stop gawkin’! Fire your goddamn grapplin’ hook, will you? Stare later!]] Her screeching voice cut into his thoughts like a scalpel, and, as they lurched in their midair simulation of an embrace, he realized that they had snapped to the end of a cable which ran from the ship where it was anchored to a launcher mounted on her wrist. *Magnetic grappling hook,* he thought and all at once he realized what she'd done. The crew inside was obviously docking the saucer with the drive section. For as smooth as that process was, it still involved bringing two space borne objects together in a controlled impact. That impact, lessened by inertial dampeners, could still occasionally jostle a person inside of a vessel. Outside, as the vibration traveled along both the hull and superstructure of the Phoenix, the impact would be substantially greater. If they had been standing on the hull when it came, it was likely to have shattered their legs inside their armor. He looked at his own arm and saw the identical launcher there, so he pointed his wrist at the ship, followed her lead, and felt a gratifying *thunk* as the powerful magnetic head of the grappling line made firm, life-affirming contact with the metal of the hull. She released her death-grip on him, and he even saw the briefest glimpse of her smile through her faceplate. He sighed.



His sense of well-being was short lived, because it was at that moment that the fire-robed saucer crashed into the drive section, sending shudders down the surface of the superstructure which rippled silently like a wounded beast. It seemed almost laughably silly in an unexplainable way that there should be no sound to accompany such a titanic collision. Time got caught up in the spectacle and slowed. In seconds that took minutes to pass, he watched as Kassandra whipped like a ragdoll at the end of her line. Powerlessly, he saw the magnetic head of her line give way under the shuddering and pull loose from the hull. She fired her backup anchor, which made a glancing impact on a protrusion on the hull, For an instant, it seemed the powerful magnet would hold, even with the less-than-optimal connection, but then it, too, gave way. She soared past him and he saw her lips pulled back in an eerie, silent scream. He realized he was reaching out desperately to grab her but her hand slipped through his, their fingers fumbling maniacally for a grip, and then she was gone beyond his reach, destined for the infinity beyond. Noticing the trailing line of her auxiliary grappling hook, he desperately made another grab, and he could feel the slightest *tink* through the metallic gloves as it touched his palm. He could see it running through his fingers as she hurtled away, so he gripped as tight as he could and tried to wrap the cord one-handed around his wrist.



He was pulled to the limits of his extension, starfished against the backdrop of the Hyperion Expanse. His left hand was tethered to the Phoenix and his right to the woman who had saved his life, or he hers...it was getting difficult to keep track. She reached the end of her line and he felt wet fire and the heartbreaking twang as his right shoulder gave up and separated. She snapped to a halt the end of her line like a bungee jumper and was flung back towards him. He caught her around the chest, his arm chastising him soundly, and she grabbed onto him with the tenacity of a limpet, arms and legs locked in a death grip as they snapped back and forth until the ship had finished its shuddering.


He peeled her limbs away from him gently and with plenty of help from a lack of gravity, flipped her gracefully back to the ship. She landed gently, her suit’s magnetic discs re-engaging. She gave a tug at his line, and he contorted himself around to land feet first, engaging his own boot mags. He noted that the short tubing between the emitter tank and the rifle had gotten caught on his line as the device floated along. He was happy to think of it as good luck. Though the emitter hadn't exactly reclaimed the forward phaser array for them as they'd hoped, it was better than being completely unarmed against the Amaterasu. He pulled it close, noting that moving the device was much easier when it was weightless. They should have had Sylvia Warren attach an anti-grav. "Hindsight," he muttered to himself as he turned towards Kass.



Kassandra was standing head between her knees, and he approached her and tapped on her helmet. She looked up, her face was green around the gills, and she appeared to have vomited in her helmet, but she looked otherwise as calm as could be expected given the circumstances.



[You alive,] she drawled through her suit-to-suit.



[I am,] he answered. He was breathing hard, which seldom happened since he'd had his lungs replaced. [Thanks.]



[Yeah,] she said in acknowledgment. Then they caught each other's eye. [Yeah,] he repeated, this time obviously expressing thanks of her own.



[Yeah.] He felt like he should probably say something else, but he couldn't imagine what the words would be. They were both too tired, too scared, too hurt. Instead, he changed the subject. [There's too many of them, Kass.] He waved at the sky around them, filled with the Amaterasu. [Are your sensors showing you this?]



[I'm getting enough of it. Jake and Wingding are handling out there. Our job's the ones inside.] She pushed herself up to full height. [On that note, we've gotta move,] she said, bravado returning to her voice. He noticed that it didn't sound as authentic as it usually did. She turned and began to march slowly downdecks.



[Where are you going,] he asked as he moved to fall in step beside her. Walking in the magnetized boots not only difficult and slow, but also frustrating. Regardless of how much effort you put in, it always seemed as if you should have moved further than you had.



[You'll see if you keep up.] She keyed her suit-to-ship communicator. [Thytos to Crichton?]



He gave her a quizzical glance. The voice over the communicator sounded somewhat confused as well. [[This is Crichton. How can I help you, Major?]]



[Hey, I just wanted to let y'all know that our excursion to the phaser array on deck four has taken us on an unexpected EVA. I just wanted to tell you before you turned on the shields or go to warp or do something else to kill us out here.]



[[I'm not in Engineering right now. Chaucer and I are about to climb into a Jeffries tube to get to deflector control on deck 21. Unless we can clear a way through these things, we won't be firing up the warp field anytime soon, but we're not far away from firing the deflector up and...]]



[Burning those things off,] Kass finished for him without softening.



There was a pause. [[Right. So get back in here.]]



[I intend to, Crichton.] She keyed off the signal and he saw her mouth "I need a name for him." Then, she continued her stride.



He thought about asking again where they were going but he decided she'd just give him the same answer to the same question. So he decided to quietly follow along. Then he made a decision. [Here,] he said, thrusting the floating tank at her. [It's your turn to carry this damn thing.]



=[/\]=



SCENE: Forward Torpedo Tubes
TIME INDEX: During the events of 'Roasted'

"Would you PLEASE hold up your end of the thing," she exclaimed, as her grip faltered.



"I AM holding it up."



"Well, hold it steady, you damned ape! " The torpedo slid into the housing tray and they both sagged, taking a moment to breathe. He heard a weak, high pitched groan and wondered if she was going to be alright. Before he could ask, however, he realized that the sound hadn't come over his speakers, which meant he'd made it himself. He glanced up and saw her looking at him, concern in her eyes. It went away quickly when their gazes met and she turned back to the anti-grav sled. "One more. Let's go."



They were in the housing for the forward torpedo tubes, back inside the ship. They'd made relatively good time traversing the hull, though it had been brutally tiring. He would describe the experience as trying to snowshoe while wearing a shuttlecraft. When they'd crossed eight decks, she signaled him to halt and pointed at their feet. He recognized the telltale doors of the torpedo tubes.



[They like energy, we'll give 'em energy,] she'd said. [Out there. Away from our asses.]



Getting in had been an adventure. Kass had howled like an animal when she realized she hadn't considered actually reentering the Phoenix. While the torpedo tubes did have the same kind of access ports as the phaser array for quick technician access to the exterior, those hatches were designed to only open manually from the inside to minimize the chance that a piece of space debris that evaded navigational shields would suddenly depressurize the deck. After a quick estimation of their situation, the best answer he could find were the torpedo tubes themselves.



Overall, the torpedo tube was a generally simple device. A torpedo would be slid into place within the loading chamber and sealed within. Once the seal between the tube and the rest of the ship was in place, the torpedo would enter the pre-fire chamber, which essentially served as an airlock just large enough for the torpedo to pass through. The firing chamber, the actual tube, was a long depressurized track, outfitted with the latest in safety and stabilization mechanisms. On the firing order, targeting telemetry was uploaded to the torpedo and the seal between the pre-fire chamber and the tube opened, the lower exterior pressure causing the torpedo to be spit out like a watermelon seed. Only when clear of the ship would the torpedo's internal power and guidance systems activate.



His plan had been to force open the exterior doors, which were designed without an exterior lock so as to minimize chances that the doors would fail during launch. Instead, they were mounted over the tubes in such a manner that the shape of their construction typically held them closed, keeping the track free of debris, and open when pushed outward by the explosive depressurization of the tube. As a result, they had managed with agonized cries of exertion to force the doors open. Once they'd created enough space, he worked his way between the doors and held them ajar while she shimmied through, pushing the graviton emitter with her. Tears came to his eyes as he felt his broken ribs grind under the pressure. Then, after she passed, he pushed himself through as well and the doors slammed back together. Again, he was possessed with the notion that, in a room with an atmosphere, the doors would have produced a crash loud enough to deafen. As it was, there was nary a sound.



Inside, the tube had been pitch black. He'd told her they were looking for a diagnostic terminal. which would be mounted near the airlock to the pre-fire chamber. As they floated along the inky corridor they were forced to rely on small lights mounted on the shoulders of their armor. The lights were an innovation that carried on a long tradition in military technology in that they seemed a fantastic notion on the drawing board and proved to be frustratingly ineffective in practice. The issue was that, since the lights were mounted at the shoulder, anytime he moved his hand, and by extension his arm, the light would dance away somewhere else. Considering how the arms drifted in zero-gravity, it was a disorienting issue.



Eventually they'd found the airlock door and the diagnostic computer. He explained that if Embry had locked out diagnostics, they'd find themselves up a proverbial creek sans a proverbial paddle. However, knowing how diagnostic protocols were nested within Starfleet systems, he doubted Arthur would have dug that far. The diplomat's attention would have been focused on sexier targets like navigation, targeting, and life support. As a former Chief Engineer, it shouldn't be difficult for his one-time underling to enter the diagnostic mode and open both the loading door and the pre-fire airlock.



He hoped.



Kass had thumped him on the shoulder twice as he worked, then tapped at an imaginary chronometer on her wrist in an age-old gesture. He waved her off and continued working as best he could when he could either see the terminal or touch it with his hand at any given moment.



Finally, he'd been sure he'd keyed in the commands properly. There had been nothing left but to find out if they'd worked when executed. [Brace yourself up against the track as best you can and turn your mags on full power,] he ordered. She maneuvered herself and the emitter against a metal tie on the track. He'd mirrored her as best he could against the wall and keyed on the suits magnetics, nudging them to the highest output they could muster. He hadn't felt particularly secure at the moment when he pressed the button to execute the diagnostic.



The silent explosion had smashed against him like a tsunami and he felt his broken body rattle inside the armor. Knowing that the armor's magnetics would not be enough to secure him, he'd gripped the metal of the track so hard that he screamed with the effort. He couldn't turn his head far, but from what he could see, Kass and the emitter had been buffeted wildly and he'd been certain she was screaming too. It should have been over in an instant, but the crushing force continued unabated. He briefly wondered what had gone wrong when it came to him in a self-shaming flash. Because he'd opened the door to the loading chamber as well as the pre-fire, he'd not only depressurized the tube, but the entire room housing the torpedo tubes, and if the the bulkhead doors weren't sealed, the entire deck as well. He hoped there was no one on deck 12.



A PADD, which must have been left unsecured somewhere in the room came careening out, bounced off his armor, and spiraled into space behind him. Just when he thought his strength would give way and he would join it on its trek through the stars, the gale lessened then died. Kass had looked up at him, nodded, and they set in through the tubes and to work.



A few days ago, in what seemed a different, more peaceful age, she'd disarmed the entire haul of the Phoenix's torpedoes to prevent the Amaterasu from exploring and igniting them. It had been menial, time consuming work, but not horribly unpleasant. She had sang while she worked. Now they were forced to work in the hot, humid confines of their armor, though, considering their conditions, it was possible neither of them could function at this point without the strength boosting hydraulic systems. There had been no singing as they pulled down four torpedoes and begun the arduous task of reattaching their power sources and biochips. She demanded that he watch her so he knew how to re-arm the torpedoes He snapped that he knew the technology. If the truth was told, each was too trapped within their own pain and fear to even really listen to the other.



Finally, even as twenty-three decks below them, Thomas Varn succumbed to the deadly caress of the Amaterasu, they finished rearming the four torpedoes. He and Kass had each taken a pair, keying the torpedoes with no specific coordinates, just with instructions to leapfrog each other away from the Phoenix. Unless their awful luck held, it should be enough to at least start a trail of breadcrumbs away from them. They'd started loading the tubes, and now three were ready to go. An exhausting minute later, and the final tube was loaded as well.

Embry had locked out the firing systems, but as they'd seen first hand, simply running the diagnostics in the proper order could get them the results they were looking for. She closed the door on the final tube, turned, and gave him a thumbs up. He executed the diagnostic and watched as the four lights turned green.



Unseen, the four torpedoes erupted from the Phoenix. The first of them exploded in a miniature supernova 5,000 meters from the ship. An instant later, 10,000 meters further a second explosion blossomed. Throughout subspace, an unspoken signal raced through an uncountable number of Amaterasu, an irresistible siren song pulling them helplessly along. They followed it past the 50,000 meter mark and they pushed in a subspace wave past the explosion at 100,00 meters, feeding well every inch of the way.

In Main Engineering, just as Cindy Rochemonte could swear she felt the temperature rising, the Amaterasu that had killed Thomas Varn and was looming on Sylvia and her suddenly vanished. Sylvia Warren clutched at her stomach, looked again at what had been the man she loved, gave a whimper and collapsed in a dead faint.



In the torpedo tube housing on deck 12, Kassandra Thytos turned to him. [Is it done?]



Even though he knew the answer, he glanced at the display again before he answered. [It's done.]



[Job's done,] she sighed heavily as she began to slump to the ground where she stood. [We won. Hurraaaaay,]



He couldn't help it; the cheer at the end had been utterly pitiful. He chuckled once, then cried out as his rib reprimanded him. He decided to try to sit himself for a moment or two and was trying to figure a way to maneuver his broken self to the floor when their internal speakers squawked to life.



[[Unidentified individuals in Torpedo Firing Control. This is Aerdan Jos of the USS Phoenix. You have fired our weapons systems without authorization. Security has been dispatched to your location. Identify yourselves and stand down.]]



Kass keyed her suit-to-ship microphone. [It's us, Commander Joss. Kass Thytos.] She gave him a strange look and said his name for the first time. [James Barton.] She said it like a wet slap. [And if you've got some security grunts to help carry us outta here, we'd gladly take it.]



[[Yes. Well,]] and suddenly they both realized that Commander Jos had somewhat overstated his position.



Her voice didn't hide her disappointment. [Thought so, Commander.]



A moment later, Jos' voice rang through again, this time with a note of puzzlement. [[You mentioned a name a moment ago,,, Mr. Crichton mentioned him as well. Major, who is James Barton?]]



Despite the pain, he chuckled and keyed his mic to her. [I'll give you three bars of latinum if you tell him, 'Just someone I used to know.'] She gave him a look that was so mystified he actually had to purse his lips and hold his arms against his sides to try to hold back the laughter which would cause him such pain. But he nodded at her to encourage her. He knew it was the dumbest idea in the world, and inappropriate, but here he was and the drugs were starting to make his head feel swimmy and why the hell not...?



She cocked her eye at him and for a moment, he thought that she might actually be high enough herself to say it, but she ultimately keyed her comm and said, [Not to put you off, Commander, but I'm not entirely sure how to answer that question.] Her face, as he stared at her through their shatterproof masks and the airless space between them, turned confused, then sad, then hard as the revelations of the last two hours resurfaced. [I don't really know who James Barton is, Commander.]



He swallowed and his mouth was a dry thing. He didn't either.



[I'll explain best I can when we get back to y'all,] she concluded. [Sir, we fired off those torpedoes cause it seemed the best way to draw off the Amaterasu. Did it work?]



He was actually surprised at the way his pulse quickened. He needed to know the answer to the question, and he needed it to come back that they had made a measurable difference against the alien creatures. He knew that luring away the creatures would mean there were fewer around him - that he was, as a result, more likely to survive - but that wasn't the reason he needed to know the Amaterasu were gone. He needed to know they were gone because he had to know he'd done the job. Survival had been the only essential for Jacen Barnes but they were calling him Jim Barton and he was starting to remember that-



The bloody child.



Remember that-



Getting the job done. Getting the job done right.



Remember that?



James Barton.



REMEMBER THAT?!



[[Scans of the ship are showing us clear of any of the radiation waveforms we have come to associate with the creatures,]] came the clipped tones of Aerdan Jos. Inside his armor, he was shaking and sweating and begging himself to keep focused on the reality he could still do something about. He found his face twisted in a savage, frightened grimace and he was humiliatingly ashamed that he found himself feeling glad that Kass was blind and couldn't see him. He willed his features to be more like a man's again.



In a moment, he was undone utterly and in another moment he had hidden all the signs away once again. It was easier now that Selyara was building card-houses in his mind. [[It would appear congratulations are in order, Major. Well done,]] Aerdan Jos concluded.



[Thank you sir. To be honest, we're both pretty banged around. It wouldn't hurt to have a medical team come up here to help us out.]



[[Understood, Major. I'll see what can be done.]]



Since they had closed the tubes, the room had begun repressurizing itself automatically, returning atmosphere and oxygen to the environment. Encased within their armor, neither of them noticed until they were both startled by the 'all clear' notification on their atmosphere readouts. They were trepidatious as they removed their helmets, as almost every person who'd been in space ever was when they removed their safety gear. It was somehow impossible to not imagine the alert was mistaken and that removing the helmet was sealing your doom. The air was cool against his sweat drenched forehead and behind his ears. He caught the pungent smell of vomit and his heart went out to Kass, who had been encased with it without complaint.



He turned to her and was stunned by how tired she looked. Then he caught his own reflection in a darkened terminal and suddenly wondered why he couldn't seem to learn his lesson about judging other people's appearances. He looked like someone woke up a nightmare and then beat it back to sleep again. He ran through a quick mental inventory. *Broken hand. Broken ribs. Involuntary mind meld. Shot twice. Separated shoulder.* He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A long tendril came smoothly out in his fingers. *And severe radiation poisoning,* he amended.



Kass smiled weakly as she tried to sit on the ground. "You look like you got the shit kicked out of you, Jebediah Chastity."



He chuckled once, leaned against a terminal, found it hurt too much, and straightened up again. "Yeah."



A pause. Yet again the elephant in the room had sounded his call and they had to choose whether to address it or postpone the difficult conversation further.



"So, listen," she began.



"I guess we should-" he started.



[[Crichton to Thytos. Kass come in. Now!]]



She frowned at the squawking radio. Not wearing the helmet, she had to speak into the microphone mounted on her shoulder, near the half-useless light. Considering the way her unseeing faced ahead, the effect was that she was speaking to an imaginary person standing directly to her right. [Thytos. Go.]



[[You're still outside, right?]]



"No. We're not. We're-"



[[Get outside. None of my engineers can get there. I need you to make some modifications on Deck 21.]]



"Hold on. Jake. What's going on?"



[[Are you suiting up? It's not too complicated. I need to divert the modified deflector pulse through the collimator. No problem, except that in order to not fry the collimator in the process, I need to split off the energy flow by running it in differently timed cycles through the deflection matrix processors.



She threw an exasperated look at her companion. He shrugged at her. "Way over my head, Crichton."



[[Okay. Crib sheet version, One of the relays I need to get this thing to work has been slagged by the Amaterasu. There's a different system relay that's close enough that I can use it, but it needs some manual modifications and it's housed on the exterior the deflector dish. Other relays in the ship are too far away to be effective. It has to be that one and none of my engineers are as close as you two. I've got less than twenty minutes before this pulse rots on the vine and we have to restart the entire process, so you two are it.]]



He went to one of the discreet wall lockers and pulled out an all-purpose toolkit. Say what you would about the Federation's politics, but you couldn't argue the standards of maintenance redundancy in Starfleet. Behind him he heard her say, "Jake, I don't know the first thing about modifying deflector relays."



"I do," he said from behind her. He keyed his own radio. "Crichton. It's Barton. I'll do the modifications...just tell me what you need."



[[Suit up. I'll tell you en route.]]



She was glaring at him. "I'm coming with you."



"No, you're not. That's dumb." He was brushing his soaked hair back away from his face, making sure that it didn't fall into the seals where his helmet would sit.



"Commander Jos," she said into her radio. "Stand by on that medical team. Crichton's got work for us."



[[I see. Understood, Major.]]



"Kass-"



"Hey! HEY!" Her shout resounded through the torpedo bay. "I ain't asking for your opinion and I don't need your permission. You got a job to do out there. So do I. It's called keeping the ship and the people on it safe. Those things are out there and if you get killed like Savaar, we're all pooched. So shut up, and let's get going!"



He looked chagrined, and then as if he might say something else. Instead, he put his helmet on, grimacing at the stale sweat smell inside. "Thanks," he muttered.



"Piss off," she muttered under her breath, but even through the speakers in his helmet, he could tell that the venom had dropped away from her voice. With a pained expression she picked up her helmet and looked inside. She twisted her waist around a torpedo rack and he did the gentlemanly thing of pretending to not hear her emptying it on the floor. "God...damn..." she sighed before forcing it onto her head.


=[/\]=



SCENE: Outside the USS Phoenix

TIME INDEX: Present



They escaped again through a maintenance hatch as they had in the forward phaser array. It was no easier an exit than their previous one, but it was much easier than trying to retrace their steps back out through the torpedo tube. Kass listened without comment as, over the radio, Jake Crichton explained the modifications he needed the former Starfleet officer to make. It was decipherable technobabble to her, all inverted resycnchronization chambers and transauxiliary electron relays, but judging by the questions he asked for clarification, he seemed to understand most of what the engineer was telling him. She was glad she wasn't expected to participate in the conversation; her attention was entirely consumed by crossing the steel plain of the Phoenix and hauling the emitter with her..



Because of the ticking clock on Crichton's pulse, they didn't have the luxury of the exhausting "snowshoe" style of progress they'd made earlier. Instead, the best option they had was an exhilarating, but incredibly dangerous reverse-rappelling across the hall. They were forced to the gather their strength and leap forward, killing their suit magnetics as they did so. They would rapidly zoom above the surface of the vessel for as long they dared, before reengaging the magnetics to pull them down for another leap. Every step meant taking their lives into their hands; if their momentum carried them too high the magnets wouldn't be strong enough to return them to the ship. In that case, they'd be required to depend on their grappling systems and they'd already seen that those weren't entirely dependable. They could feel the depths of space greedily reaching for them with each leap. Even still, they were losing time quickly.



In front of them, the mammoth deflector dish loomed. The giant bearded man drew up at an access terminal into which was etched a label: Aux. Deflec.Ctrl Jctn 8-4D. [Crichton,] he said into his microphone, and unslinging the toolkit from over his shoulder. [I'm here.] He dropped to his knees. [I'm opening the hatch now.]



[[Be careful, when you activate the energy conduit, because once that plasma starts to flow-]]



[Holy shit,] Kass exclaimed, suddenly raising the modified rifle and firing off three quick bursts. They'd expected a reaction, but this was more than they'd spoke about. [I got spikes all around us!] The air around them filled with glowing lights, some of whom faded, but several of which did not. Instead, they began to drift closer.



[[...yeah, that,]] Jake confirmed over the radio.



He tried to focus on what his hands were doing. Reassigning a power relay to a different system wasn't especially difficult, but it had been a tough day on top of many years that had passed since he'd done this kind of work. His vision was limited by the facemask, and his fingers felt dumpy and awkward inside the gloves as he tried to dis- and reconnect incredibly fine wiring connections. On his periphery, he occasionally saw Kass step into view, then out again, and he saw the Amaterasu appear and vanish. *Focus on what you're doing...*



It wasn't complicated really. Unplug 10 wires. Turn four dials. Reconnect two wires. Two more dials and and reverse a toggle. Reconnect two more wires. Turn back one of the first four dials. One more wire. Undo the clamps on two hoses, then reverse their fittings and reclamp. Reconnect three wires. Turn back another of the first dials and one of the second. Reconnect one wire. Reverse the toggle again. Reconnect the final wire. Push the button to engage the relay.



Simple as pie, really.



He'd already unplugged each of the necessary cables and activated the four dials. Now he was trying to reconnect the first two cables and it wasn't going well. His fingers, particularly on his broken hand were failing him. He eventually got the first wire in and began to trace back the second.



[[I've got about four minutes on this pulse, how's it coming out there?]]



The second wire clicked into place. He located the dials which needed turning and did so. The toggle switch clicked into its new position with a satisfying snugness. He wished he could hear it; he wished he could hear anything over the sound of his artificially calm breathing.



Except for people talking to him. [Getting heavy here, Jebediah.]



"I'm working," he mumbled, though he didn't bother to send it over the comm.

The next two wires went into place easily, like a dream. It made him nervous. He turned the dial.



A glowing cloud appeared above him and he looked up into the heart of it. It was gorgeous, like a sunset that had been set ablaze. Before he could even process what he was looking at, it blackened and darkened away. He knew that inside her own armor, his savior was swearing up a storm, but now she, too, had more pressing things to do than activating her comm.



The next wire fought him, but only briefly. It slid snugly back into place.



Kass was doing her best to maintain an orbit around the floating tank, and to direct the both of them in a loose orbit around him as he worked. The way these things were reacting to the unshielded power loose out here was terrifying.. They were like a school piranha that had been driven into a frenzy by blood in the water. *Worse,* she groused to herself as she moved to avoid one spike and blast another. *Piranhas with damn cloaking devices*

The clamps on the hoses came loose easily enough, but the hoses were so tight on their fittings that he found himself wondering why they needed clamps at all.



Two more lights appeared and faded. Three more appeared and stayed where they were.



The first hose gave way.



[[Three minutes, guys.]]



[Trying, Crichton!] he demanded and began pulling at the second hose with both hands. His broken fingers throbbed.



Kass fired a shot which ended three of the Amaterasu and felt herself crash. It was a binary sensation: first the stimulants were working in her system and now, suddenly, they weren't. Her body demanded that she stop what she was doing immediately, that she sleep, and it was only her will power that kept her on her feet. Even then, the rifle barrel faltered.



The second hose gave way. He quickly reversed them, noting that is tight as the hoses' fit had been, they went into their new positions very easily.



Kass stepped too close and her shins collided solidly with his back. He faltered, and she stumbled, knocking his toolkit away. It floated into through an Amaterasu cloud and twisted into a mass of blackened, lumpy metal.



Each of the next three wires, little bastards all fought him, but eventually slipped into place.



[There's too many of them,] Kass shouted, and though she used her radio, he didn't know whether was the message was for him, to move faster, or for Crichton, to explain why they were going to fail. She felt a searing pain in her right hand and saw one of the clouds creeping towards her from that direction. She didn't want to see what the hand looked like inside her glove. It was in agony, but still functional.



In a fury, he flipped the two dials, then stopped, blinking, as he tried to remember if they were the correct ones. The distraction made him completely forget where he was in the process and he had to run it through his head again from the beginning.



[[Two minutes, Barton! Come on! I'm counting on you here!]]



*Remember that?*



He remembered where he was in the process. One wire. The toggle. One more wire. The button.



Kass fired the rifle again, though the gesture was becoming meaningless. The area around the relay was a tiny galaxy of stars of its very own.



He reconnected the wire. He couldn't believe how slow he was moving now, how sick he felt.



He flipped the toggle.



*Focus*



One more wire. Kass began to scream. It was a high, piercing thing and if he heard it, it would haunt his dreams. But she was in her own suit and the silence between them protected him at least that much.



The wire slid into place.



He pushed the button.



[[Emergency transport! Two EVAs directly to sickbay! Now!]] As the blue light, minus the distinctive whine, overtook him, he heard Crichton continue over the comm. [[I'm firing the pulse in 3...2...]]

He gave himself to the silence.


***

NRPG:

SHAWN: I tried to keep Jake on the communicator so that if you need to be doing other things, you can. I know he was kind of 'Exposition Man.' Thanks for being patient. :) Also, did you know there was a time limit on the pulse? There was!


ALIX: Thank you so much for your help on this.


ALL:Sorry for the delay. I think that'll probably mostly wrap up Barnes? Barton? and Kass for now unless Alix has some other ideas. What's going on with the Captain and Selyara? Has anyone found Cade? Who got the transporters back up and running? Did anyone feed the pug? All questions I'm looking forward to finding out the answers to now that...

Also, sorry for the weird formatting.

I'M NO LONGER ON THE HOOK!


Dale I, Rasmussen
~writing for~
Jac...Jam...um...The Big Guy!

with much appreciated assistance from

Alexandra Fowler
Maj. Kassandra Thytos
Selyara Chen
Sounding Board Extraordinaire