TEAM#5 Led by: Ensign Samantha Beckett, Nurse Ensign Sartek, Med Tech. Ensign T'Pars, Lab Tech. Crewman Wes Davenport, Med Tech.

Samantha blinked at the list. She was leading the away team? How could that be? What in the name of Fate qualified her to lead the team? They were beaming to a damaged station, possibly into combat situation, anything could happen! Because Samantha had been abandoned by her mother when she was just a very small child, she had forever held a sense that no one needed her for much of anything. Even after becoming an adult and joining Starfleet, this dim, nameless feeling lingered... like the last little scent of smoke left behind in ashes long since cold. Sam felt a sudden feeling of despair, what if she got everyone killed? But while she might doubt the decisions of her superior officers, Sam was in no place to question them. And there was no time...

Sartek was already rounding up med kits while T'Pars ran a last minute diagnostic on their tricorders. Both were Vulcan and worked quickly yet seemed completely unhurried. Sam was grateful for their composure. Wes Davenport came jogging up, a little late but smiling as always. There was a solemn undertone, though, in his cheerful demeanor and he greeted them with only a nod. "All set?" Sam asked him.

"Yep," he nodded again, "team two just left so we'd better get going."

The four headed into the corridor. Samantha glanced quickly at each one, wondering if they too found her position curious. Surely they must be asking themselves how timid, soft-spoken Samantha Beckett ended up in charge... She frowned to herself, resolving to do a good job, promising herself that she would be as stoic as the Vulcans and as confident as Mr. Davenport. A sudden fire sparked in the meek soul of Samantha Beckett, and by hell, she did have something to offer! As they stepped up on the transporter pad, she stood straight and kept her head up. She would not be afraid, she would not let her team down. As the transport was initiated, Sam clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling.

* * * * * Wes Davenport was the first to assess that they were safely alone. "Where are we?" his whispered question seemed too loud.

"It appears to be the commissary," T'Pars answered.

A cafeteria? Sam puzzled over that. Why would they beam to the cafeteria? She found the other three looking at her, waiting for some direction. Now what?

"Samantha!" Wes nearly shouted, abandoning formal titles and protocol in the face of some discovery, "human life signs in the next room!"

"Are you sure?" she double checked his assessment on her own tricorder. Sure enough, life signs registering on the other side of the wall.

"All right," Samantha headed for the door, "let's go."

"Wait."

The stern monotone of any Vulcan's voice is enough to halt a person in their tracks. Samantha froze, turning to give Sartek a questioning look.

"We must proceed with caution," he pointed out, unholstering his phaser with deliberate slowness.

"Of course," Sam took the hint and unholstered her own weapon. She was trained in the basics of phaser combat, but the type 2 model felt strange in her hand. Medical personnel did not usually expect to fight, but to heal. She thought of firing the weapon upon someone, even an enemy, and shuddered. Unthinkable.

The corridor lay empty and silent. Nothing moved, no one spoke. Samantha turned to demand what that thudding sound was, but realized it was her own heartbeat. At the first set of doors they paused, checking tricorders and exchanging glances. None of the four would have made good security guards, their steps were too slow and their caution too great. They looked over their shoulders, hesitant to make the wrong move. Finally they made their way through the doors and found a room that lay in ruins. Whatever purpose the room had served was a mystery, for its furnishings had been broken, smashed, scattered. Even the ceiling panels had been cracked and half the lighting system lost. Near the center of the wreckage a person lay trapped beneath fallen debris.

Samantha hurried over, fear replaced by her instinct to help. She knelt beside the motionless figure, squinting to see a pair of eyes looking back up at her. It was a young woman, no older than Sam, and she blinked at her rescuers with a sudden flood of tears.

"It's all right," Ensign Davenport comforted, "we-"

"Go," the woman whispered, urgency in her voice and terror in her eyes.

Sam and Wes looked at each other in confusion. They both looked to their Vulcan colleagues in shared befuddlement. Before anyone could speak the young woman began screaming.

"Get out of here!" she thrashed about, not trying to escape but wild with desperation to make them listen, "It's a trap!"

With speed and precision that saved the entire team, Sartek whirled around to see three Khynah boiling out from behind a pile of debris. He fired and dropped one instantly. Wes Davenport threw a chunk of ceiling panel to distract the pair and then dove to one side. He fired as he ducked and the shot missed, but slowed the Khynah's assault. Samantha crouched low over the wailing victim, determined to protect her though the woman urged them to run. T'Pars shot the other two, firing her phaser with a calmness that almost seemed unconcerned and off-hand. The last Khynah fell inches from where Sam guarded the wounded officer. For a moment the rescue team looked back and forth to one another, shocked but relieved.

Wes exchanged a glance with Sam, both sharing the silent appreciation for their Vulcan colleagues. For Sam and Wes, killing meant a certain dilemma of ethics. For Sartek and T'Pars it was a necessity not to be shirked. Wes dragged the dead Khynah out of the way and with Sartek's help moved the wreckage aside. The trapped woman sat up, shaking and looking all around for more Khynah. She was bruised and bleeding, but had no serious injuries. Samantha tended to her, working quickly and stowing things hastily back into the medkit while the others kept an eye out for more trouble.

"Thank you," the woman wearing command red spoke quietly.

Samantha nodded and introduced herself, adding, "we're from the USS Endeavour."

"I'm Lieutenant Amelia Gunderson," she got slowly to her feet, shaking her head, "I never thought I'd see another Starfleet officer. How many ships have they sent?"

"The Endeavour is the first to respond," Wes told her.

"There's only one ship?" she gaped at them, her expression saying clearly that they were all doomed.

"Lt. Gunderson," Sartek proposed, "perhaps you can help us locate other wounded officers?"

She shook her head, "We must not. These... monsters... they capture the injured and use them as bait, as they used me."

In the dimness her brown eyes seemed like dark stones, "I would advise you, and your captain, to pull all your personnel off this base and retreat."

"You have information that could provide a tactical advantage to our efforts?" T'Pars asked, her small hands pausing as she worked over her tricorder.

"I watched them kill most of my colleagues... my fellow officers died trying to amass information on their ships," the lieutenant's voice held grief and anger that she pushed aside,

"and for all that all I can tell you is that one Starfleet vessel is not enough to-" "RUN!" Wes Davenport grabbed Lt. Gunderson's hand and hauled her towards the door.

Samantha saw half a dozen Khynah springing out from beneath a distant pile of debris. How could they all have hidden there? She stumbled after Sartek and was the last one out the door. Wes was leading the way, running down the corridor with amazing speed. Sartek pushed Samantha ahead while he hung back to fire a few well-aimed shots behind them. Suddenly, Samantha remembered that this was her team, the responsibility to protect the group fell to her.

"Ensign Beckett to Endeavour," she slapped her comm badge.

There was no response.

She tried again, "Ensign Beckett to..." the sickening realization blossomed into terror. They were stranded.

"Davenport," she called, trying to catch up.

"What?" he slowed a little, urging the other to hurry.

"There's some interference with the comm badges, we can't contact the ship!"

He tried his own badge and a look of horror crossed his face, "That's not interference! They're just not there!"

Had the ship been engaged in battle... or destroyed?? But there was no time to discuss the problem. T'Pars charged past them and Sartek was on her heels. They ran, now following Lt. Gunderson who led them down the maze of corridors. When at last she paused, leaning against the wall for support, Sartek made an announcement.

The Vulcan, not even the least bit out of breath, said, "I believe I succeeded in halting all of our pursuers."

"You..." the lieutenant gasped indignantly, "you WHAT?! And... you've... just been... letting us... run! All this... TIME!!"

"I thought it best to put as much distance between ourselves and-"

"Enough!" Sam interrupted, "we've got to- HEY!" she protested when Wes shoved her.

"GO!" he began shoving everyone.

At the far end of the corridor more Khynah were approaching. The distance made it hard to tell, but it looked to be perhaps a dozen. Far too many to fight. The five officers ran for their lives, abandoning any hope of forming a clever strategy. Sam cursed herself for having nothing more to offer than her own desperation. She was in charge, surely she could think of something more effective than running away. Their enemies outnumbered them too greatly... and the Khynah did not always succumb to one phaser blast. The officers had no choice but to run. Wes tried to fire behind them as they tore along, but he only succeeded in dropping his phaser.

"This way," Gunderson gestured, taking them down the nearest turn. They fled down a hallway past several doors before she dashed into one. The room was poorly lit and none too big.

"Where are we?" Samantha demanded, phaser in hand.

"Holosuite four."

"Is main power still one?" Sam wondered, "we could start a program and trick them-"

"It's not. Help me," Amelia was struggling to remove a panel from the wall, "we'll leave through the jeffries tubes and they won't find us."

T'Pars considered this, "What if there are Khynah in the jeffries tubes?"

"They're too big to get in there," Gunderson snapped, fear making her furious with T'Pars for wasting time, "now go!"

T'Pars ducked in through the hatchway and disappeared.

Sartek followed her. Sam gestured for Wes to go next, but he shook his head.

"You next Beckett," he insisted.

"But-"

"GO!" Gunderson looked ready to kill them herself.

Sam followed quickly and heard Wes exchange a brief word with Amelia. The lieutenant's voice, though muffled, carried to where Sam could hear.

"... in and I'll follow you. I'll close the panel behind us and-" her voice stopped, and with it, Sam's heart. She couldn't breathe as something in the back of her mind knew, knew with every certainty, just what had happened. The lieutenant's horrible scream frightened her badly, but did not surprise her. The Khynah had found them.

"Damnit Sam! MOVE!" Wes crowded behind her.

Sam began scrabbling forward, asking, "Where's Gunderson?" knowing full well the stupidity of that question.

"Just go," the panic in his voice was answer enough.

'The Khynah are too big to follow us' Sam repeated in her mind, like a child learning a nursery rhyme. Sound carried through the jeffries tubes with an alarming quality that was magnified by fear. Something, far behind them, something was grunting and thrashing its way after them. Sam heard Wes swear, some half-uttered oath that came from a man who knew his minutes were numbered. She plowed ahead, running in Sartek, her own voice tearing at her throat as she screamed, "HURRY!"

Go. Go. The little word taunted Sam's mind. Faster. She crawled, ran, on her hands and knees, following Sartek so closely that she was about to run over him. The jeffries tubes were dark, dim with damaged lighting and compromised power sources. Sam lived every nightmare she had ever had. Behind her Wes scrambled to keep pace.

"It's coming!" his anguished cry made Sam sick with terror.

"Can you shoot it?" she gasped over her shoulder. Just shoot the Khynah and it would all be over and then-

"I dropped my phaser," he was right behind her, his voice echoing as if it came from inside her own head. There was no time for Sam to fumble for her own weapon, the beast would have them both before she could aim. She would have kept it in her hand, but feared she would fire accidently with it clunking along as she crawled. Sam wanted to blame Gunderson for being wrong, for not having the foresight to see that the Khynah could indeed fit in the crawlspace, but the poor woman couldn't have known. And Amelia Gunderson had paid for the mistake with her life. And with theirs.

No. No. We can make it. Help us, she cried out in her mind, anyone help us. Suddenly T'Pars, leading the band of officers, tumbled miraculously out through a hatch and got out of the way. Sartek followed her, like a diver climbing from a deep pool, efficient, quick, and safe. Sam was next. Her hands touched carpeting, her head emerged into fresher air. Her pantleg caught on something!

"NO!" she shrieked. Her scream was mirrored by that of Wes Davenport.

The Khynah had closed in on him. Sam screamed with him, first her terror was for him and then, when his cries began to fade, her fear was for herself. She was next. She fumbled for her phaser - where was it!! Lost in the tunnels or the corridors before?

"Help me!"

The two Vulcans were already working to free Sam from the jeffries tubes. They were calm and swift, doing all they could.

"Hurry," Sam felt her muscles tense, almost paralyzed with the terror. She could hear the Khynah coming, pushing past the lifeless form of Wes Davenport. Two feet away she spied the broken leg of metal lab table. Two feet...

Suddenly Sartek pulled her free. A monster came boiling after her, slowed by it's own size and the smallness of the exit. The Vulcans drew their phasers, but they were too slow to beat Samantha, who had other plans. With a yell that shocked Sam by sheer volume, she lunged for the table leg and snatched it up. Screaming obscenities she didn't know she knew, Samantha turned to find the Khynah struggling to get out of the hatchway, just as she had done. T'Pars and Sartek stood back and watched as Ensign Beckett struck the alien again and again. At first it flailed and roared, tried to beat off the attack, but the blows fell too fast and too hard. Samantha, once so mild and gentle, slammed the metal bar down again and again. The beast raised a clawed hand, reaching out as if pleading for mercy. A line of the hippocratic oath wove its way through the haze of Samantha's anger: "...according to my ability and my judgement and never do harm to anyone." She looked into the alien eyes of the Khynah, which almost seemed like her own, eyes that sought compassion. Remorse made her pause and she froze, the line playing through her mind like a bitter reproach.

The Khynah, seeing how its opponent had fallen for the trick, slashed out at Sam's nearest leg. It aimed for her Achilles tendon, to bring her down with one motion. But Sam jerked away, the claw slicing down the side of her foot, cutting right through her shoe and making a deep gash. Screaming in pain and rage the ensign began swinging the club again, redoubling her efforts. When the Khynah lay still and dead, she continued to pound it. Blood and disgusting bits of flesh began to splatter all around, but Sam did not stop. She yelled and cursed and beat the Khynah carcass. How dare it to come here and attack without provocation, to change her into a raving lunatic, to kill Wes Davenport and take away the lives of so many. If she could not right the wrongs of this day, if she could not save any lives, Samantha would at least have this vengeance. Common sense told her it was time to stop, that they needed to flee to safety, but she did not stop.

"I believe," T'Pars spoke softly to her colleague and compatriot, "that Ensign Beckett has been more than thorough."

Sartek nodded solemnly, "Perhaps it is time that we intervened." Sartek was of course, not surprised. But his lack of astonishment was not due to his Vulcan heritage, but to his observation of human nature. Those like Samantha, regarded as timid and harmless, usually held the greatest potential for this sort of violence. Being so gentle, such people tended to over react to especially harsh circumstances like these.

Cautiously, Sartek approached Sam. As she raised the club for the umpteenth time, he caught it in mid air. Whirling around, Sam would have struck him, but he was stronger and wrenched the weapon away. For a moment it seemed that Sam would physically attack him, but T'Pars hastened forward. "Samantha," the smaller Vulcan spoke softly, "we must go now."

"Yes," Sartek agreed with a nod to the mangled mess at their feet, "it would seem that you have accomplished your task."

Sam regarded them a moment and seemed to take hold of herself. "Yes," she spoke hesitantly, nodding with sudden conviction, "let's get out of here."

Sartek hefted the metal bar, "I'll take the lead and-"

"No," Samantha grabbed the club from him and started for the closest door, "this is my team. I'll lead," she had not lost the fierce expression and apparently had more killing to do. As she walked, the wound from her right foot left a dark stain with each limping step.

"This will not do," Sartek made her stop, "we are leaving far too obvious a trail."

"Starfleet?" a voice came from down the corridor. An Endeavour crewman jogged closer, "thank the ancients," he gasped, "I thought you might be the Khynah."

"No," T'Pars assured him drily.

"Come with me," he turned, "we've got a transporter working so they won't have to lock onto us separately. They've engaged the Khynah, but will lower shields long enough for one more transport."

"Are we retreating?" Sam asked, noticing that she had the Khynah's disgusting blood all over her clothes.

"No, we're getting everyone off this deck though. We've hit fourteen traps all ready."

"How many fatalities?" Sartek wanted to know.

Their guide shook his head, "We don't know yet," he led them to the temporary sanctuary where a tiny oasis of Federation technology could pull them back to their ship and safety, "but it's a lot."

* * * * * "I want to go back!" Samantha Beckett argued fiercely with Dr. Montgomery.

Sartek and T'Pars had already left, reassigned to another team. They would try again, perhaps rescue someone... save a life and carry out their duty, as Sam had failed to do.

"You are not going anywhere," the doctor said calmly, glad that at least one officer had come back with a treatable injury instead of not returning at all. "Besides," she glanced at the gruesome stains on the ensign's uniform, "it looks as though you've seen enough excitement."

Sam didn't respond. She sat there with her fists clenched, hearing Wes Davenport's scream... She would hear it forever. If she lived a thousand years and forgot every other detail of her entire life, the memory of that sound would stay with her forever. Closing her eyes against the memory, willing her ears to stop hearing... it carried through her mind again, and again. Sam covered her face with her blood stained hands and cried as if she would never stop.

Mira wished she could offer the ensign some comfort, but there was little she could say, and no time. Another team arrived, bringing more wounded with them. The battle was far from over and in sickbay all they could do was hope it ended soon.