The doors slid open admitting Commander Andrew Brower to his living quarters. He was exhausted and sweat dripped from his brown hair onto a soft towel draped around his neck. His drab clothes were damp with perspiration from the workout he had just taken. Tired, and a bit sore he dropped onto the comfortable, overstuffed couch and sighed deeply. With considerable effort he grabbed his towel and wiped the dampness out of his thick hair then flipped the fluffy cloth onto the nearby chair.

Normally his exercise routine didn't exhaust him so, but for the past week he hadn't been able to take a workout and his muscles had already begun to soften. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

Just then the door carillon chimed softly. He ignored it, hoping it had been his imagination. Again the noise filtered into the room, this time with an impatience he knew was imagined. "Come in," he called finally.

Dr. Chris Logan strode through the double doors into the roomy apartment, hesitating when he saw Brower slumped on the sofa. "Did I come at a bad time?"

"Not at all," Andrew sat up, then got to his feet. "Come in, please." He removed the towel from the chair and the pair sat. "I just got back from the gym. Seems I'm a little out of shape. I couldn't workout while I was on Earth."

While he didn't specifically mention the court martial hearing, Chris sensed Brower was in need of someone to talk to about what had happened. The First Officer had been withdrawn and introverted since his return. "Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about."

Andrew half-rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Chris, there's nothing to talk about. I'm fine. A little tired, but fine." The events of the past weeks seemed only a blur now. A blur of bad memories. His loyalty to Starfleet, an organization that he and his whole family had dedicated their lives to and made sacrifices for, had been called into question. At first he was angry, but as time went on, he had reluctantly come to accept it. He had begun to rethink his decision to become a Starfleet commanding officer, but when the charges against him were summarily dropped, his faith was somewhat reaffirmed. However, now that he had returned to the ship, he didn't feel like being very social, at least not yet.

The doctor looked at Brower. For the past several days he had honored Andrew's wishes by giving him his space. But if his isolation was allowed to continue, it would become unhealthy. "You are not fine," Logan told him evenly. "The court martial is still eating at you, and if you don't open up to someone and come out of this melancholy daze, your performance will begin to suffer."

Andrew looked at Chris, finally giving a slight smile. He appreciated that the doctor was concerned enough to confront him. The two had become close friends in his short time on board. In fact, Logan was one of the few he would call a close friend. Yet, he still didn't feel like sharing his feelings. But he also knew that sooner or later the doctor's relentless desire to help would become a nuisance. It was better to just give in.

He sighed, gathering his thoughts. "Before this hearing, I was so close to being accepted on this ship," Andrew explained seriously. "And I feel like now this whole mess has only become another obstacle standing between me and the crew."

Chris nodded," I see." The comment was very telling. From his first day on board Brower had doubts about proving himself to a new crew. "Don't you see? This whole mess with Starfleet and your court martial has brought you closer to the crew. If anything, I would say your relationship with them has been strengthened."

Andrew looked into the doctor's smiling face. He wanted to believe that was so, but the blow this hearing had taken on his reputation wasn't as simple as that. In many ways, it had affected the way he viewed himself. How could it not have affected the way others saw him? "I suppose," he conceded, but he was still unsure.

"Really, Andrew, you're being too hard on yourself... and on us. Give your friends a little more credit. We wouldn't abandon you for such a superficial reason. The trial was unsubstantiated grandstanding. Everyone knows that."

He considered that. Certainly the argument had merit. But something like this didn't just go away in a few days. "I just need time to think."

Suddenly the comm tone sounded, interrupting the conversation, "Rataan to Logan."

"Go ahead, Kale," answered the doctor politely.

"Chris, we're receiving a personal transmission for you from the planet's surface," the Ops officer told him. "He says it's very urgent."

Chris' eyes widened in surprise. He didn't know anyone here, at least anyone he could remember. He glanced at Brower, gesturing toward the desktop computer terminal.

"Please, use my viewer," Andrew said as he motioned to the com terminal on the desk nearby, glad to get out of the discussion. "I'm going to take a shower." He got up from the comfy sofa and went into the other room giving some Logan privacy.

"I'll take it down here." He watched Brower hurrying for the bedroom. "We aren't done with our talk. I'll be back," Chris called after him. He glanced at the desktop com station, waiting for the signal to be transferred to the tiny terminal, wondering who could be contacting him, and speculating about what could be so urgent.

Lieutenant Schyler Anderson startled at the sudden sound of her name being shouted across the room from behind her. She fumbled the food tray she was carrying and her coffee sloshed out of the cup drenching her sandwich. She calmly continued forward three steps, set her tray down on the table in front of her, then swung around angrily to see who had jarred her in such a rude fashion.

Dr. Christopher Logan was making his way towards her from the far side of the officer's mess. In the few moments it took for him to close the gap between them, her anger nearly vanished. There was an excitement in his eyes that she had rarely seen before and she could tell he was bursting with news.

"Yes, Doctor," she replied a bit coolly, letting him know she had not approved of his boisterous entrance.

Schyler's formality had a settling affect on Chris Logan. He suddenly became aware of the attention he had drawn from the other officers scattered about the room. All eyes were upon him and he took a deep, calming breath before speaking again, now in a much less anxious tone. "May I join you, Lieutenant?" he asked, matching her propriety.

"Yes, certainly," she answered, her lips hinting at a smile. She turned back to the table and seated herself before her now ruined lunch. Chris walked to the opposite side of the table and took a seat across from her. Schyler tilted her head and looked into his eyes, "So, what's up? "What's the big news?"

"You can read me like a book, can't you?" he said shaking his head from side to side.

"Well, it's not hard when our normally reserved doctor comes bounding into the room and shrieks my name loud enough to cause me to jump half a meter," she answered. "I figured something was up." She dropped her napkin over her coffee-soaked sandwich. Wrinkling her nose, she pushed the tray away, "I think I've lost my appetite."

Chris looked down at her plate, seeing the ruined meal for the first time. "Oh, I'm sorry Schyler. Can I get you something else to eat?"

"No, I really wasn't that hungry anyway. I'd rather hear your news now." She looked into his eyes giving him her full attention.

Anxiously Chris glanced around the room, noting that the other occupants of the room had lost interest in him, then leaned forward towards Schyler and began. "Well, I got the most unusual communiqué just now. It was from a man named Dr. Arthur Pendleton. He says he's been looking for me for quite some time." Logan paused a moment to lend impact to his next words. "And Schyler... he claims to be a friend of my late Uncle Timothy!"

Schyler's eyes widened. "Really, Chris? Why has he been looking for you?"

The doctor grinned. "He says he has some information he thinks I'll find interesting!" he answered. "Isn't that something, Schyler? I've been beating the bushes for years trying to find more information about my uncle and suddenly this Pendleton pops up out of the blue!"

"Are you going to meet with him?"

"Of course, I couldn't let a chance like this go by. He's down on Bonaire now!"

Schyler looked surprised. The Avenger had just arrived at the planet to allow its crew some well deserved shore leave. "But we've only been in orbit around Bonaire for a few hours. I wonder how he located you so quickly."

"I'm not sure, but I may find out. I'm beaming down to meet him at 1700 hours."

Schyler's brow wrinkled with concern. "I know you're eager to find out more about your uncle and the incident on Trilar III, Chris, but please don't go running into this thing blind. Don't you think you should have Security check this Pendleton out first?"

Chris reached out across the table and put his hand on Schyler's reassuringly. "Don't worry. It will be fine. We'll have security personnel down on the planet . If anything goes wrong, I'll just call them."

"I think you should at least take someone along with you," Schyler urged.

"Um no, I don't really want anyone else in on this just yet."

She smiled back. "That's easily solved. I'll go with you."

Chris' grin dissolved. "You?" He had serious doubts about taking her along...

"Don't look so shocked. I'm the perfect choice. " Her eyes narrowed. "What's the problem? Don't you think I can take care of myself?"

"Well yes, of course you can, but..."

"Great, then it's settled," she interrupted. " I'll go along with you and stay alert while you concentrate on the info that this Dr. Pendleton has for you."

Chris shrugged his shoulders. "All right," he agreed more than a little reluctantly, "I'll meet you in the Main Transporter Room at 1645."

"I'll be there," she answered. "I'm sure I'll have no trouble clearing it with Commander West since I'll be off duty and it's a liberty planet." She looked down at the spoiled lunch she had pushed aside. "You know, I think I'm hungry after all." With a smile she got up and made her way back to the bank of food replicators.

Chris watched her go, and thought to himself how lucky he was to have her in his life.

A few hours later, Chris and Schyler rematerialized at the entry depot on Bonaire. They were greeted by a Bonairan official who logged their names and asked them several questions regarding their visit to the planet and how long they intended to stay. Chris thought it best not to reveal the fact that he had been contacted by Dr. Pendleton, instead informing the official that he and Schyler were simply on leave and were looking forward to seeing the sights and sampling some of the cuisine Bonaire had to offer. It was odd to Chris that the red and gold of their Starfleet uniforms seemed to do nothing to assure the man he and Schyler were indeed trustworthy individuals, but the explanation Logan gave seemed to appease the official. The man handed them a padd which he told them contained helpful tourist information.

After their interview, Schyler and Chris were allowed to leave the depot, venturing out on their own to find Dr. Pendleton. The mysterious doctor hadn't left any instructions, telling Chris only when to arrive on the surface.

As they stepped from the cool stillness of the depot rotunda, Chris and Schyler found it necessary to squint and blink their eyes against the bright sunlight. The Bonaire sky was unlike any they had ever seen before. Instead of the blue, cloud-filled sky found on most planets with oxygen rich atmospheres, they found Bonaire's sky to be a bright yellow. This phenomenon was caused, Logan knew, by the high level of Arzane gas in the atmosphere.

"Wow!" Schyler exclaimed. "I'd heard it was bright, but it's almost blinding."

Logan held up his outstretched hand to shield his eyes. "I think our eyes will adjust somewhat, but you're right, I wasn't expecting it to be quite this intense."

"I think I can help you," said a soft, female voice behind them.

Both Chris and Schyler turned quickly, surprised to find a young woman standing within a meter of them. "Pardon me," Chris said. "Were you speaking to us?"

"Yes," answered the tall, raven-haired woman. "I think you might be more comfortable wearing these." She held out both hands which each contained a pair of dark spectacles, similar to those worn on Earth centuries earlier.

Schyler reached out and took a pair. She awkwardly set them on the bridge of her nose and hooked the side pieces over her ears. The affect was immediately apparent. She could open her eyes wide now and could see quite clearly and comfortably. "Oh yes, these do help a lot. Try them, Chris," she coaxed.

Logan took the other pair of spectacles and put them on, amazed at what they did to improve his vision. "Thank you," he told the woman. "If I had known our sight would be this impaired, I would have put solar protection drops in our eyes before we left the ship."

"You are Dr. Christopher Logan, are you not?" the woman asked abruptly.

She was quite tall, and Chris had to look up to see into her face. Her hair was short and her eyes were a light color. It was hard for him to tell the exact color with his dark glasses on, but he thought they might even have been orange. He had heard Bonairans had unusual eye colors in order to compensate for the brightness of their surroundings. She was shrouded head to toe in a light weight, black garb which flowed easily when she moved. "Yes. I am Dr. Logan, and this is my friend, Lieutenant Schyler Anderson," he answered with a gesture.

The woman wrinkled her nose slightly. "Yes. Dr. Pendleton was apprehensive when you said you would be brining a guest," she informed coolly.

"Lieutenant Anderson is a trusted friend," he countered. "There is no cause for concern." He regarded the tall woman for another moment. "May I ask your name and your relationship with Dr. Pendleton?" he questioned, turning the tables on this curious woman.

"My name is Shay, and I am Dr. Pendleton's mate," she answered. "I am here to take you to him now. Please follow me." Abruptly she turned and walked away.

He shared a bemused glance with Schyler, then they both fell in step behind the mysterious woman.

She led them quickly down the wide avenue, never pausing to look back. They passed several gleaming white buildings, all with darkened windows. There were very few people on the street, and almost no vehicular traffic. It was strange to Chris, but even for all its brightness this place felt eerie, almost surrealistic.

After walking several blocks, Shay turned off the main street and led them down a narrow passageway between two buildings. They walked about fifty meters and came to a doorway which automatically slid aside allowing the three of them to pass through. As they stepped through the doorway they found themselves in a large open air courtyard.

Schyler glanced around the large space. In the building fronts surrounding the plaza were several vendors offering food, drink, and gifts for sale. Scattered about the interior of the yard were dozens of table and chair groupings. It had the feel of a marketplace, yet she saw very few patrons in attendance. "Where is everyone?" she asked, finally unable to contain her curiosity.

"It is the work hour. In a few minutes this place will fill for the evening meal," answered Shay. "I will seat you now," she told them just before setting off again, making her way for a table perfectly centered in the courtyard. "Be seated," she instructed once they had caught up with her again. "Dr. Pendleton will be with you shortly."

Schyler turned to thank the woman, but she had already darted back across the yard, departing through the same door from which the three of them had just come.

"Friendly sort, isn't she?" Chris said with a grin as they both took their seats.

Schyler continued to glance around the desolate courtyard. "This whole place is just a tourist's delight," she said, hardly containing her sarcasm. She removed her dark glasses and set them on the table. "I think my eyes are adjusting now."

Chris removed his glasses also. The light was still uncomfortable, but he opted to keep the glasses off. Because he was not used to wearing them, he felt as though they were restricting his visual field and he wanted to be ready for anything.

Suddenly a loud chime sounded somewhere in the distance. Moments later over a dozen passageway doors slid open and streams of people flooded into the courtyard. The noise level began to grow immediately as the Bonairans began their evening meal break from work.

Chris began to scan the crowd for a human face approaching them, but his task was almost impossible as more and more people poured into the now teaming plaza.

Finally a slightly graying man stepped up to their table. He was of average height with a slender build and full beard, which had also turned gray. He looked nervously between Logan and Anderson before speaking. "I didn't realize you would be wearing your uniforms," he told them worriedly, still deciding whether or not to sit with them.

"Dr. Pendleton?" Chris asked loudly, trying to be heard above the din of the crowd gathered in the sunny courtyard.

The man nervously waved his hands in warning as he quickly swooped in to the seat opposite Logan. "Not so loud," he cautioned in a hushed tone. "We must keep our voices low at all times." His eyes darted apprehensively around the crowded plaza as if he were searching for something.

Chris and Schyler exchanged looks of concern, but they would play along--for now. Chris whispered an introduction, "I am Dr. Christopher Logan, and this is my trusted friend, Lieutenant Schyler Anderson." He paused, watching curiously as the doctor continued to survey the area. "I am eager to find out why you summoned me here," he finally continued.

Pendleton looked directly into Logan's eyes. His intense gaze caused Chris to flinch slightly. "The information I am about to give you will almost certainly place your life in peril," he warned ominously. "I do not like putting you in danger, but I knew of no other way to deliver my message." The man paused hesitantly, watching Logan intently.

Whether the pause was because Pendleton was having a sudden change of mind or for pure theatrics, Chris could not tell. "Please, go on," he encouraged.

"What do you know about your uncle and the incident at the Federation colony on Trilar III?"

"Well, I know that official records say there was an epidemic on the planet. My Uncle Timothy was the physician in charge. They say he initiated a treatment of the victims using an unsanctioned drug. The drug supposedly sped up the effects of the viral epidemic... causing total annihilation of the colony. He was then arrested, but before he could be brought to trial, he took his own life." There was a touch of sadness in his voice as Chris remembered. These events had taken place when he was quite young, but still had a devastating effect on him nonetheless.

"And you believe the official record? Pendleton asked, his stare still drilling into Logan's eyes.

Chris shook his head. "No. I don't," he answered flatly. "I knew my uncle very well. He would never willfully hurt anyone, and he was too good a physician to make such a horrendous error."

Pendleton nodded thoughtfully. "I agree. I too knew your uncle quite well. He was a good man," he said with regret.

"Were you there at the time of the incident?" Logan's eyes narrowed.

"No, I was part of the medical team which autopsied the remains of the colonists in the weeks after the disaster. Now I am the only one of that team still alive."

Schyler gasped, but Chris was more interested in the information regarding his uncle. "What did the results of your study show?"

Pendleton began to tremble visibly, overcome by a sudden wave of dread. "To this day I am still haunted by our results."

Chris held his breath, forgetting to breathe in his anticipation. "What were the results?" he appealed impatiently. Pendleton broke off his gaze, scanning the faces at the tables around them before leaning forward to continue. "How much do you know about a chemical called Chryogazene?"

Chris blinked in surprise. "It's a chemical which causes near instantaneous death in oxygen breathing lifeforms." Then suddenly, Chris' eyes narrowed and his face reddened while his tone became dangerous. "Hold on here, Pendleton! You're aren't insinuating that my uncle administered Chryogazene to those colonists, are you?" he challenged. "Because it's an unthinkable crime to accuse anyone of!" Besides, Chris knew that Chryogazene gas was highly unstable and could neither be swallowed nor administered through a hypo spray. It had to be aspirated, thus it would have had to have been in the air the colonists were breathing.

"It was found in the remains of every single colonist who died on Trilar III," Pendleton affirmed flatly, waiting for Logan to make the connection on his own.

Chris stopped cold. He tried to sort out in his mind the ramifications of this new information. The only practical use he had ever heard for Chryogazene had been in the development of Metagenic weaponry, though he had little practical experience with the chemical, as Metagenics had been outlawed in the Federation for over a century. Suddenly his stomach turned and a cold chill ran down his spine. "Metagenics..." he gasped.

Pendleton nodded.

It always seemed to come back to this, Chris thought. The Avenger crew had stumbled across an illegal Starfleet storehouse of Metagenic weapons on Lia IV. Even then a rogue band of Cardassians had been trying to get their hands on enough components to construct a Metagenic weapon of their own. What Cardassian Gul A'Kare and the New Obsidian Order could do with even one of those weapons sickened him. "How did this happen?" Logan demanded angrily, unwilling to control his voice any longer. "Who is responsible for this?"

Schyler had been sitting quietly, listening to the conversation, but she had also been keeping an eye out for anything unusual. Pendleton's behavior was odd, and it had caused her to be apprehensive as well. Now the sound of panic in Chris' voice filled her with a growing sense of dread. "What is it, Chris? What's it all about?"

Logan held up a hand to wave off Schyler's questions while he zeroed in on Pendleton. "I want answers," he demanded, leaning closer to the doctor.

Pendleton's eyes now nervously darted around the courtyard, looking for all the world as if they were about to burst out of his head from panic. "There is a faction in the upper echelons of Starfleet Command who feels it is imperative for the Federation to maintain its own stockpile of weapons for defense purposes," he explained. "The incident at Trilar III was supposed to be a controlled Metagenic test on a dozen or so subjects, but something went horribly wrong."

"Who was behind this?" Logan demanded, growing more and more angry. "I want NAMES!" Logan pounded the table loudly.

Pendleton looked stricken, then took a few deep, calming breaths and continued. "There are at least three admirals and several dozen lower ranking officers involved. I don't know all of their names, but then captain--now Admiral Samuel Lewis, who was in charge of colony security, somehow figures heavily into all of this."

Chris searched his memory. He remembered Lewis' name, probably from the official Trilar records, but could recall little else about the man. "Who else?" he threatened, again banging the table.

"I don't have any other names," Pendleton maintained. "I do know that one of the admirals is a woman. And the man always with Lewis is a captain by the name of Reynolds. Other than that, I just don't know," he shrugged.

Chris slumped back in his chair, overwhelmed by this information. If it were true, there was a lot at stake here. Then something occurred to him. "I have one more question, Doctor," Logan started in. "Why now? Why did you wait nearly twenty years to come forward with this information?"

Pendleton now looked wild eyed, almost like a hunted animal. He took a very deep breath. "Because I have recently received some new information." He eyed both Logan and Anderson intently. "There is going to be another Metagenic test, this time involving a super-device. And, as before, the test will take place on an inhabited planet with another Federation colony. And it's all going to happen within the week."

"WHAT?" Chris gasped. "You're certain of this?"

Pendleton nodded.

Schyler's attention had been momentarily diverted as she stared in disbelief at Dr. Pendleton. He raved about secret plots and subversives in Starfleet. Could there be anything more ludicrous? Though as she looked into the bright sky over the courtyard she began to wonder if the enigmatic doctor's suspicions weren't the paranoid ravings of a recluse after all. Her gaze rose suddenly upward when she thought she caught a glimpse of something. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, she tried to get a better view, but the unusually bright sunlight was still playing havoc with her sight. It was difficult for her to tell what she was looking at. It wasn't a craft, it was too small to hold any beings she was familiar with. As she stared at the object it appeared to be hovering, floating stationary high above the courtyard.

"Where did you get your information?" Chris was demanding, still brow beating information out of the doctor.

Before Pendleton could answer, Schyler noticed the object suddenly change direction and speed. It seemed to be swooping straight toward them, circling behind Logan. "CHRIS!" she screamed, pointing above Chris' head.

Logan turned and caught sight of the small orb-like object, but there was no time for him to react. It swooped with incredible speed, screaming down upon their table. Ducking his head under the table for cover he heard a gritty buzzing sound, followed closely by the smell of ozone, then an unpleasant odor he recognized. It was the smell of burning flesh.

Pendleton hadn't even had time to scream in pain or terror. The energy beam which leapt from the swooping orb had instantaneously vaporized his head and upper torso.

Schyler stared in horrified disbelief at the grisly remains of the man they had just been speaking with, her hastily eaten lunch rising in her throat. With effort she forced off the feeling and watched the flying object rising in the air once more, this time swooping towards Logan. "CHRIS!" she screamed again. "We've got to get out of here." The weapon was targeting again.

Chris, momentarily paralyzed by shock, first looked up at Schyler, then leapt from his seat. "THIS WAY!" he called to her, running at a right angle to the original path of the robotic killer. She followed him, their path filled with obstacles as they wove between tables and other panicked plaza patrons who were screaming in terror and running for cover.

People ran everywhere yelling in horror. It was hard for Schyler to keep her bearings in accordance with the position of the orb. "It's coming again!" she shouted in terror. There were just too many obstacles between them and shelter, and this time the weapon was headed for her! Quickly calling upon her knowledge of computer languages and how the droid might be programmed, she thought of her best option to confuse the automated killer which was now tracking her. She waited until it was very close, so close she could smell exhaust pouring from thermal vents on the side of the deadly sphere. When it was just a meter or so away, she threw herself to the ground, sliding sideways, hoping to elude the device's crude targeting system. She heard the beam lance out, and feeling no pain she knew she had survived this attack, but the piercing scream of a nearby Bonairan woman told of her gruesome demise.

"RUN!" Chris shouted as he caught the horrific sight out of the corner of his eye. Now the orb was arching again high into the sky, hovering several meters above the noisy panic in the courtyard.

Schyler pulled herself up from the ground and ran towards Chris, sprinting the last few meters to a doorway leading away from the plaza. It was jam packed with panicked patrons trying desperately to flee. With her last burst of strength she threw herself against Logan, slamming him into the crowded doorway and ramroding them all through.

As the muddled group fell into a heaped mess on the floor of the building's interior she heard a Bonairan woman still in the courtyard shout, "It's leaving!"

Schyler pulled herself up, picking her way clear of the scrambling arms and legs of those around her. Chris seemed to be all right. She rushed to the window, confirming what the woman had said. The robotic orb was indeed moving away. As it swooped out of sight a large explosion could be heard and slowly black smoke began to drift on the wind back into the courtyard, apparently the end of the mechanical assassin, no doubt at the hands of its own self-destruct mechanism.

Chris looked at Schyler's smudged cheek, turning her to see into her teary eyes. Then he grabbed her tightly, hugging her for a long moment. Without a word he stepped back and slapped his com badge, "Avenger, two to beam up, priority one," he called out then collapsed against the nearby wall.

Logan and Anderson materialized on the transporter pad crouched and terrified, catching a mystified glance from the transporter chief. Chris again exchanged concerned glances with Schyler, making certain she was all right. He then reached up to his chest and tapped his com badge. "Logan to Captain Sutherland."

"What is it, Doctor?" the captain asked with worry, echoing the Logan's apparent anxiety.

"Something terrible has happened," he explained. "I would advise that you place the ship on yellow alert."

Sutherland hesitated, absorbing the grave tone in Logan's voice. "Very well. But I would like to see you in my Ready Room. Commander Brower and I will be waiting."

"Yes, sir. We're already on our way," said Logan as he and Schyler stepped off the pad. In the distance the warning chime of the yellow alert klaxon echoed as they stepped into the corridor.

·

The Bonaire com-net had been buzzing with activity concerning the recent incident on the planet's surface, and Sutherland had already heard of the goings on by the time the doctor and engineer arrived in his office. But he was anxious to hear what they both had to say.

As soon as they entered, Chris apologized for their appearance as both he and Schyler wore soiled, and somewhat tattered uniforms. Sutherland nodded his understanding, more concerned for his officer's well being than the condition of their uniforms. "What's going on, Doctor?" the captain asked.

As Chris began to relate their experiences, Schyler's gaze turned toward Brower. She was a bit shaken when her eyes met his straight on, and she felt something not unlike a small electric charge flash through her body. Obviously, he had been watching her and concern was apparent in his eyes. She bobbed her head slightly, acknowledging him and then swung her gaze back to the captain, though she still felt a bit of residual tingle from their limited exchange.

After hearing Logan's full report, Sutherland leaned back in his chair, digesting the information further. If what this Dr. Pendleton had said was indeed to be believed, many lives could be in immediate danger. Yet if these charges proved to be false, they would damage the careers of many high ranking Starfleet officers, his included. He looked over to his right and observed his XO, who seemed to be staring off into space, wrestling with the same dilemma. "Well, Commander Brower? What do you make of all this?"

Brower started slightly, wrested from his thoughts. His eyes swept across the faces of Chris and Schyler before answering. "Sir, if it wasn't for the fact that Dr. Pendleton met his demise in such a mysterious, horrendous fashion, I would say the chances of this information being valid were nil. However, someone must have been afraid enough of what he knew to kill him for it. Considering our recent dealings with Starfleet, and their apparent involvement with Metagenics," he referred to the Avenger's recent mission to Lia IV where they had discovered a storehouse of the weapons components, "I believe we should definitely investigate further."

"What kind of investigation are you proposing, Commander?" the captain asked with interest.

His brow furrowed. "We need some hard evidence to substantiate Dr. Pendleton's claims," answered Brower. "Doctor, do you have any suggestions?"

Logan nodded. "Yes, Commander. I can think of one thing that would signal us if we were on the right track."

"And that is?" queried Sutherland.

"Visit Trilar III," he answered quickly, knowing the response it would bring from the captain. Before Sutherland had a chance to say anything, he continued, "If the colonists there truly died at the hands of a Metagenic accident, the atmosphere will still be contaminated with Chryogazene gas. If any concentration of Chryogazene is detected in any amount, Metagenics can be confirmed. That particular chemical is specifically manufactured for use in a Metagenic device," Chris said resolutely. "It exists naturally nowhere in the Federation--or in any other part of explored space for that matter."

"Doctor, I'm sure you are aware that the entire Trilar System is under an indefinite quarantine as well as a Starfleet directive making it a forbidden zone. Entering orbit of Trilar III in order to collect atmospheric samples would be in direct violation of that directive," Sutherland warned. "After the beating Commander Brower took just over his decision to defy Command by taking the Avenger back to the Lia system, I am not anxious to try Starfleet's patience again so soon. Perhaps we can think of another way to confirm Pendleton's suspicions."

Logan reluctantly nodded his understanding, though his heart was heavy. He had been so close to obtaining some concrete evidence which might eventually clear his uncle's name, but now that avenue appeared blocked. He understood the captain's reluctance to violate orders, but that did nothing to alleviate his disappointment over this missed opportunity, to say nothing of his fears for the lives of countless, unknown colonists somewhere within the boundaries of the Federation.

Schyler cleared her throat. "Begging your pardon, Captain, but we could use a modified atmospheric probe to collect the data we are searching for. Avenger could launch the probe from outside the Trilar system," she explained.

He nodded at the engineer's suggestion. "However, even sending in a probe would violate the spirit of Starfleet's directive, technically leaving us open for punitive recourse from Command," Sutherland explained. "And, if it turns out Pendleton is wrong, we could be bringing aboard the very virus which killed the Trilar colonists nearly two decades ago."

"Captain," Logan piped up, "we could examine the atmospheric sample without bringing it on board the ship. We can link the medical computer to the main sensors in order to examine the probe's telemetry. Not only could we detect the presence Chryogazene, but any viral agents as well."

Sutherland sighed. "Your opinion, Commander?" he looked at Brower.

Andrew breathed deeply, not believing what he was about to say, especially after what he had just been through at the trial. "With so many lives at stake, Captain, I think it might be worth bending the directive a bit," he advised.

Sutherland sat quietly considering the idea before him. He didn't like it, not one bit. Going in search of the truth would be a violation of orders. Yet, if Federation lives were at stake, he was bound by duty to do all he could to protect them. "Very well, then," he decided at last. "Mr. Brower, recall all personnel from the planet." He reached to his chest, slapping his com badge. "Mr. Jansen," he said to the Con Officer, "prepare to break orbit and lay in a course for the Trilar System, warp nine. Engage once all away personnel have been recovered." He looked at the three officers sitting opposite from him. "Let's see if this Pendleton knew what he was talking about."

"We are approaching the Trilar System," Rutledge's strong voice rang out from his position at Ops on the main bridge.

Commander Brower glanced up from the padd he had been working on in the center seat. "Mr. Jansen, take her within ten thousand kilometers of the Forbidden Zone and hold position," he ordered.

"Aye sir," the Con officer responded smartly.

Brower tapped his comm badge. "Captain, we'll be arriving at the launch coordinates in approximately three minutes."

"Very good, Mr. Brower. I'm on my way," Sutherland responded.

Brower then rose from his seat as the door to the Ready Room slid open and Captain Sutherland entered the bridge. As he strode to his command chair he looked up at the Science station where Lieutenant Lanei eagerly waited. Her eyes mirrored the anticipation she felt for the mission ahead. She was proud to be such an important member of this mission's team and he knew, as always, she would lend her best to the job.

Next to her stood Chris Logan, his face looked strained and Sutherland could only imagine the gamut of emotions which were running through him at this moment. The results of this test would either open or slam the door to further investigation of the charges levied against the doctor's late uncle. For Logan, everything was at stake now.

Sutherland gave an encouraging nod to the pair, then took his seat. "Mr. Jansen, what is our position?" he inquired quickly.

"We are holding at launch coordinates, ten thousand kilometers outside of the Forbidden Zone, sir."

"Mr. Rutledge, prepare the probe for launch."

Rutledge ran his fingers expertly over the controls. Earlier he had personally overseen preparation of the probe, and he knew everything was in readiness. "The probe has been activated and awaits launch on your order, sir."

Sutherland turned slightly in his chair, glancing back over his shoulder towards the Science station once more. "Are you ready Lieutenant Lanei?"

"Yes, sir," the Deltan replied with obvious enthusiasm.

The captain turned back in his seat, an imperceptible smile played around his lips, placed there by his Chief Science Officer's eagerness. "Mr. Rutledge, launch the probe... now."

Rutledge pecked in three taps on his workstation. "Probe is away, sir."

Near silence hung over the bridge for the next several minutes. All eyes were glued to small viewers at individual work stations or to the huge forward view screen as the bridge crew watched the progress of the probe streaking away from their ship toward the dead planet at the heart of this solar system.

"Mr. Lanei, report as soon as any pertinent data is received," Sutherland directed.

"Understood, Captain," she acknowledged, staring intently at the science console in front of her.

"Sir," Rutledge announced suddenly, "I am having some trouble tracking telemetry from the probe. I'm getting a heavy amount of interference."

"Interference?" the captain questioned, raising an eyebrow. "From what source?"

"Unknown, sir. I am trying to determine that now. It began when the probe entered the planet's atmosphere."

"Captain!" Lanei called out from the science station. "I have it, sir! The probe is detecting ionized particles which are most likely to be Chryogazene gas in the planet's atmosphere!"

"I knew it," Logan whispered, just loud enough for Lanei to hear. "I just knew it had to be there." Lanei glanced up at Chris and smiled reassuringly before turning back to her console.

"Most likely to be?" the captain questioned. "You aren't certain?"

Lanei shook her head. "Between the interference and the computer's estimation of the gases, I'm going on probabilities. We won't be absolutely certain until we've gotten some atmospheric samples back on board."

"Keep on top of it."

As new information presented itself, Lanei became riveted to the viewer's screen. But rapidly things began to deteriorate. "The probe seems to have penetrated some kind of radioactive field," Lanei quickly reported.

"Radioactive?" Brower echoed. "Are you sure, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," Lanei answered.

"Mr. Rutledge, is this field the source of the interference you encountered?"

"Unknown, Captain. We are beginning to lose control of the probe's systems," he warned. Very rapidly the probe became unresponsive, finally it's telemetry disappeared altogether. "We've lost it, sir."

Brower turned to the captain. "That field could have been causing the probe's telemetry to feed back incorrectly," he cautioned. "Radioactive interference could have easily played havoc with our ability to receive data from the probe properly. And if there is the slightest doubt, our findings may ultimately be called into question."

Sutherland nodded, turning to Lanei. "Lieutenant, using shipboard sensors, can you determine the source of that radioactive field?"

Lanei's smooth, hairless brow wrinkled with concentration as she poured over the readings in front of her. "It's hard to tell from this distance, but there doesn't seem to be a natural source, Captain. In fact, the interference patterns are similar to those found in a jamming signal." She gasped with a sudden realization as she connected the two. "It appears the field has been placed on the planet by some artificial means."

"What?!" Logan blurted, standing to get a look over her shoulder. "There was never any mention of a radioactive field in any of the official Trilar III reports I've read." He exchanged a grave glance with the captain. "Why would anyone construct a jamming field in the atmosphere of a lifeless, quarantined planet in an off-limit part of space?"

"Unless someone had something very important, and very secret to hide," Brower observed, following the doctor's reasoning. Someone's hiding something down there. "If ever a situation called for a more thorough investigation, this is it."

Sutherland stared for a long moment at his first officer, then turned and stared grimly at the viewscreen in front of him. He was about to make one of the hardest decisions of his career.

·

"I have news," Commander Phillips said as he walked into the admiral's spacious office. She said nothing, so he began his announcement. "Our problem has been neutralized."

Admiral Deborah Hewlitt already knew as much. He was late. Regrettably killing Pendleton was the only way to silence him, putting an end to the seditious propaganda he was spreading. She could not allow him to jeopardize their plans. Still, even the man's death had not been enough to stave off the danger of being exposed.

"But I'm afraid we have new worries," the commander continued as he stared at the back of the admiral's long blonde hair splotched with patches of gray. She had yet to swivel in her chair to face him, and he wondered if she were even paying much attention to what he was telling her. "Unfortunately two Starfleet officers were with Pendleton at his end. One was a doctor. I am running checks now, but I believe they were from the--"

"USS Avenger," Hewlitt interrupted. With effort she pried her eyes from the breathtaking twilight view of San Francisco, now turning to face Phillips like a displeased instructor staring down an amateurish pupil. "I already know," she informed grimly. Unfortunately Sutherland and the Avenger were fast becoming a bigger liability to her than she cared to admit. Now she could take pride in the fact that she had long ago set a series of events in motion which would nip this blooming problem in the bud. Thomas and Dillent had then thought she was being over cautious, but now she could prove them wrong. It was time to once again call upon the services of their trusted operative aboard the Avenger.

The hastily assembled senior staff sat silently in the ward room awaiting the arrival of the captain, each lost in their own thoughts. Chris Logan fidgeted as his mind raced. It was because of him and his relentless quest to clear his uncle's name that the captain was now thinking of taking the Avenger into a zone declared forbidden by Starfleet Command. And, as eager as he was to find more pieces of the puzzle this mysterious puzzle, the thought of defying Starfleet Command was mind boggling.

He could feel the stress mounting in his body and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly to calm himself.

As tormented as Dr. Logan was, there was one other officer in the room who felt the strain of the current situation even more intensely. Schoen Rutledge clenched his jaw against the pain that pounded in his temples. His dilemma had only worsened. How could he choose where best to place his loyalty? Continuing to keep the secret he had carried with him for nearly twenty years would further endanger his ship and it's crew, yet, disobeying a direct command from his superiors was unthinkable. And then there was the matter of his personal loyalty--his friendship with Chris Logan--at stake here. Another wave of nausea swept over him as he realized he was in a no win situation.

Captain Sutherland strode through the ward room doors and the assemblage quickly rose to their feet in a gesture of respect and support. As he dropped into his chair, the other officers quickly followed suit. The captain took a moment to compose himself, then began.

"I am sure all of you know the evidence gathered by our probe is less than reliable. It may suggest a high probability that Chryogazene gas lurks in the atmosphere of Trilar III in high quantities, or it may suggest we have a sensor log full of garbled data.

"Since Chryogazene is only produced as a by-product of Metagenic activity, and since we came to this system specifically for the purpose of discovering whether or not a Metagenic accident occurred here and was subsequently being covered up, our data is sure to be called into question unless we present something more reliable.

"However, although weak, the evidence to date is disturbing enough to force me to consider crossing into the Forbidden Zone for a further investigation, but there is more. An artificial radioactive field was detected by the probe as well. This field appears to surround the planet and is nearly impossible to penetrate with shipboard sensors. The mere fact such an unreported field now surrounds the planet causes some concern, but what alarms me most is the fact that the field was artificially introduced to the planet's atmosphere." He paused to allow his information to sink in.

"In other words, Captain," Dr. Logan began, "you believe it's entirely possible for someone to have placed this radioactive field around the planet for the soul purpose of interfering with the sensors of passing ships?"

"It is a possibility, Doctor, but I want to steer clear of any unsubstantiated conclusions until we have conducted a more thorough investigation."

"What exactly do you mean by thorough investigation, sir?" Rutledge asked, as his temples beginning to pound even harder, causing him to wince from the pain.

Sutherland leaned back in his chair. His eyes held resolve as he looked upon his senior staff. "After much consideration, I have come to a decision. I believe it to be in the best interest of Starfleet, and the Federation as a whole. We will continue our investigation into the events which occurred on Trilar III by taking the Avenger into the Forbidden Zone."

The room became deadly still. No one dared speak or move for several moments. Finally, Schoen Rutledge broke the silence. "Entering that zone without clearance is a court martial offense," he blurted, in spite of his resolve to remain calm.

Sutherland's serious stare rendered Schoen speechless. "I am well aware of the seriousness of this decision, Mr. Rutledge," the captain declared evenly. "I accept full responsibility for my actions and anyone here who strongly disagrees with my decision is welcome to enter a protest in the ship's log. But, for the record, I believe we have no other options but to conduct a thorough, independent investigation of this incident. The use and manufacturing of Metagenic weaponry of any kind is strictly against Federation law and is a threat to all. Time is of the essence, and we must look into this immediately. We cannot afford to wait idly while bureaucrats haggle over permitting us to continue." Sutherland set his jaw firmly. "I do not take going against a Starfleet directive lightly, I assure you all."

The captain then paused and waited for any further comment. He had purposely not consulted any of the officers before him on this decision as he wanted no one else to share the repercussions which were sure to come from Starfleet Command. When no further protests were heard he cleared his throat and began again.

"I would like to proceed with the investigation by sending an away team to the planet's surface. They will gather hard evidence to prove, or disprove, that Metagenic research was taking place on Trilar III. Lieutenant Lanei, I would like you to assemble a small team of science personnel to accompany you to the surface for this purpose."

"Understood, Captain. We will need full bio-suit protection, sir. I won't trust individual force fields to protect us from the deadly materials we are likely to encounter on the surface."

"Agreed," the captain affirmed. "I want every possible precaution taken to protect the safety of the away team." Then he turned towards the Chief Engineer. "I suppose transporting the team to the surface would be out of the question with that radioactive field in place?" the captain queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, no," West said with assurance. "I see no problem why we can't beam the away team to the surface." Upon seeing the confused look on the faces of the others, he elaborated. "I've been studying the data we've gather so far about this field, and have discovered something quite useful to us. Every forty-eight minutes or so, the radioactive levels of the field drop to nominal levels--probably when the device which generates the field resets itself," he explained to dry stares. "Anyway, during these times, small windows open in the field's jamming frequencies. During those times we will be able to beam teams to and from the surface. It will only be a matter of pre-arranging beam-down and beam-out coordinates with the away team. It shouldn't be a problem."

"And you're certain there's no safety concern?" Brower asked for clarification.

"As long as the team watches the time and meets back at the pre-set coordinates, no sir," Lucas assured.

"Very well," the captain said, nodding his head in acknowledgment, then he turned to the first officer. "Commander Brower, I would like you and an engineer to join the team as well. Your mission will be to gather any hard data about the construction, testing, and detonation of Metagenic devices, specifically look for any structures that might have been used to manufacture, or even to store, the devices. I would prefer Commander West remain on board during this mission to monitor the affects of the radioactive field on the transporter, but perhaps he could spare Lieutenant Anderson to accompany you."

"It won't be a problem, Captain," West agreed.

"Fine, sir," Brower acknowledged, but he was troubled. It wasn't fine. In fact, it wasn't fine at all. This would be the first time he and Schyler Anderson would be assigned to work together since he came on board the Avenger and he wondered if his past affection for her would in any way interfere with his work during the dangerous mission ahead.

"Captain," Dr. Logan began, a hopeful expression upon his face, "I'd like to request that I be allowed to accompany the away team on this mission as well."

The captain gave Logan a probing glance. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea, Doctor. You have a rather large personal stake in all of this."

"I assure you, Captain, I will use discretion and will analyze any evidence we might come across without prejudice. I've also read every available scrap of information concerning Trilar III. My knowledge of the colony layout alone will benefit the team."

Sutherland turned to his first officer.

"Yes, Doctor Logan could be of assistance, sir," Brower answered quickly. "It might be a good idea to have a doctor along, since we won't be able to transfer anyone immediately back to the ship in case of a medical emergency."

Logan gave Brower a glance expressing his appreciation. He desperately wanted to be allowed on this away mission, and it was taking everything he had to keep his composure.

The captain glanced from Brower to Logan and nodded. "Very well, Doctor. You will accompany Mr. Brower's team."

"Thank you, sir," Logan said, his features remaining placid, masking his inner anticipation. Along with urgency though, he felt fear. He thought about the gruesome events on Bonaire and the demise of Dr. Pendleton. He was afraid of what Avenger would find here, or what dangers lay ahead for he and the rest of the crew.

An overwhelming feeling of desolation surrounded the away team the instant they materialized on the surface of Trilar III. The ground beneath their feet was cracked, pale, and parched beyond description. The horizon blurred with heat and chemical distortion in the atmosphere. A crimson sun above them hung somehow cold in the barren, gray sky. The six team members glanced around with uncertainty for a moment. There was no visible life, plant or animal, as far as they could see. A stale breeze stirred dust around their boots, but silence filled the landscape.

In sheer contrast, the brilliant yellow-orange of the team's bio-hazard suits stood out against the starkness of the lifeless panorama. They each moved about with eerie stiffness, restricted slightly by the fabric of the safeguarding apparel which was to protect them from foreign dangers lurking in the atmosphere of this barren world. Their only contact with one another was through com links fixed inside their protective helmets.

"Lively place," Schyler's voice scratched over the channel with dry sarcasm. The others could not disagree.

Lanei stepped forward facing the rest of the small group. "The sooner we begin, the sooner this unpleasant job will be finished. So let's get started." She gestured to Rataan and two members of her science staff, Dylan and Shepard. "You three are with me, comprising alpha team. Our job will be to collect soil and air samples, as well as other kinds of physical evidence to prove use of Metagenics were used on the surface of this planet," she reminded. She indicated Logan, Brower, and Anderson. "You three are beta team. As planned, you are looking for any kind of storage area or depository where Metagenic weapons could have been stored or manufactured. The first team to gather significant results will contact Avenger. We'll meet back at this spot in forty-four minutes for beam-out," she said, allowing a few minutes' safety. She paused a moment to let this flurry of instructions sink in. The rush of command was definitely a sensation she could grow to relish. "Follow any hunch you might have." She looked to Brower. "Anything further, Commander?"

He shook his head. "Just be careful."

"And don't eat anything you can't identify off-hand," Chris interjected dryly. His bio-helmet obstructed the faces of the others and he couldn't see whether anyone had smiled.

Lanei ignored the jest and bid everyone good luck as she urged her team to move northward.

Andrew turned to face Schyler and Chris. Locating a Metagenic storage facility on this planet would be the most concrete evidence they needed to prove Pendleton's theory, but finding it was another story all together. The Federation colony on Trilar III covered nearly twenty-five square kilometers, and all of that area had to be searched on the ground, using conventional gut instinct. From orbit, shipboard sensors had detected a slight increase in the concentration of Chryogazene near this particular spot, so this was as good a place to start as any, but there were no guarantees. The search would likely be similar to finding the proverbial needle. No one ever seemed to find that needle, but oddly, that never seemed to stop them from trying.

Spread out in front of his team was a vast landscape of death. The colony around them was a ghost town, and from their vantage point high on a hill overlooking most of the city, Brower hardly could find a spot to begin. "Well," he said, clearing his throat, "anybody have a hunch?"

·

Lanei stretched her sore back. She had been crouched in the dirt for a seeming eternity gathering soil samples and examining mineral specimens. Even now, her tricorder readings made it apparent this was not a healthy planet. Abnormally high levels of toxic elements in the subsoil inhibited molecular life at the most basic level. The result was annihilation of all vegetation on Trilar III's surface. Further, potent molecular antigens floated freely in the atmosphere. It made her shudder to think what would become of her if she wasn't encased by the protective bio-suit around her. All around, jagged rocks, protruding objects, and sharp pieces of debris seemed to stab at her, intending to tear her suit and expose her to the atmosphere. Even wearing the protective garb she sometimes battled extreme bouts of paranoia, fearing the suit might somehow become corrupted, thus exposing her to the harsh and deadly environment around her.

At any rate, there was no doubt that an influenza outbreak could in no way be the cause of what happened here nearly two decades ago.

Looking around she saw Shepard with one of his instruments high above his head taking an air sample. "Find anything more interesting over there?" she called to him.

"More of the same, sir," he yelled back. He made his way over to her, showing her the newest tricorder readings. "Look at this," he said emphatically, "Chryogazene levels are off the scale. Terriate and Jakmanite are high too." He shuddered. "My skin burns just thinking about it."

She nodded in profound understanding, about to share her own findings when her helmet com hissed on. It was Brower. "Alpha team, I think we've found something you'll want to see," he said urgently.

·

"Impressive," Rataan observed, peering into the dark shaft. It was expertly constructed and from what he could see, almost perfect concealed in the center of what had once apparently been a lush sculpture park. All around shabby statues fell to the ground ruined and crumbling from neglect. What struck him most though, was the near identical resemblance of this shaft with the one he, Brower, and Rutledge had located on the surface of Lia IV.

Five of the team members stood peering into pit about three meters in diameter which had been dug into the dirt. At the pit's bottom, a shaft barely tall enough to accommodate a medium-sized humanoid, branched off to the east.

Schyler was down in the shaft, trying to determine if it indeed did lead to the Metagenics depository they all suspected lay at its end.

Lanei knelt, running her fingers along the edge of the pit's lip. "How did you find it?" she asked curiously. It was hidden well.

"It took more reasoning than anything else," Chris told her. "We figured since the location of the depository was probably top secret, there would have been no maps or directions in a Starfleet database. The same would hold true for trusting individuals with the location, given the volatile nature of the information. So we reasoned that anyone who wanted to locate the depository would do so by zeroing in on visual clues, such as recognizable landmarks." The others nodded agreeably. "So we began to scan around for something like that," the doctor continued, "and finally we were able--"

"To make things brief," Brower wedged his way into the conversation, "we saw that big statue over there from a distance and walked toward it until we got to this park. Then we stumbled on the pit. Schyler's down there right now."

Lanei grinned. "Good work, sir. What was the captain's reaction?"

He shrugged. "It's hard to ignore the doctor's theory now..."

"Now that we're staring down the barrel at it, you mean," Logan interjected, referring to the captain's initial reluctance to investigate the matter.

Andrew nodded. "He wants us to gather as much hard evidence as we can, and report back to the ship on schedule."

"In that case I think my team should continue to collect samples," Lanei said. Dylan, Shepard, and Rataan all began to disperse.

"Don't hesitate to call on me if you do find anything down there," Kale offered. "A storage depository for top secret weaponry is bound to be packed with all sorts of security devices and encrypted codes. It could be dangerous."

"Right," Andrew agreed. "When we find it, you'll be the first to know, Kale."

The Security Chief nodded gravely and went to join the rest of his team, hoping certain they held true to that guarantee.

·

A low whistle was foiled by the face shield on Schyler's helmet. She breathed deeply at the sight in front of her. "Anderson to beta team. You guys aren't going to believe this... but I found it. It's at the end of the corridor."

"What is?" Chris asked, silently cursing the static that had begun to garble their communications. No doubt residual radioactivity in the soil was beginning to interfere with their com signal. It would only get worse the farther Schyler got from them.

"The Metagenic depository," she answered frankly. At least that's what she was hoping. What else would be so deeply hidden underground, locked behind a veritable fortress. "I'm standing in front of a door. A big one, heavy locked. My tricorder can't penetrate the door and I can't scan beyond it. It's Starfleet technology though, so I shouldn't have much trouble getting inside. That's the only way to tell what's really down here."

"Wait!" Chris and Andrew both jumped at hearing her intent. They glanced at each other awkwardly. "Sorry," Andrew said, allowing the doctor to proceed.

"I was just going to say," Chris continued, "that I don't know if going inside is such a good idea, Schyler."

"He's right," Andrew concurred. "It's impossible to guess what's behind that door. If it really is full of Metagenic components, there's no telling what's happened to them over the past twenty years. You could be walking into a room full of genetic poison that even your bio-suit can't protect you from."

Chris found himself nodding. Every word which came from Brower's mouth was simultaneously running through his thoughts. Andrew glanced up from the pit, his gaze catching Chris' across the dark hole which led into the shaft. Chris could see something in his friend's eyes, something uncomfortably familiar. Before he had the chance to fully realize what it was, Schyler said, "Come now, you two. We've come this far, and time is running out. We'll have to beam back soon. My tricorder says everything's within the limits of my suit. If I get inside and something is amiss, I promise I'll be out before anything happens to me."

Chris watched Andrew cast an intensely worried expression downward at the shaft's opening. Suddenly he realized, it was not the concern of a fellow crewmember he was feeling for her; this was something different. Suddenly he realized where he had seen that look before--in himself. Andrew still has feelings for her. The words came to him through the absolute silence of his bio-suit helmet. Without a doubt he could sense they were true.

He looked slowly down into the abysmal shaft, wondering if Schyler knew of Andrew's feelings for her. He wondered if Andrew himself knew. It was strange he should find himself identifying with Brower's predicament, a man whom Chris now considered to be one of his closest friends. Had he not known Andrew so well, he might not have reached this conclusion, but now he had no doubts. It was strange, and a bit unsettling.

"I believe we should bring Mr. Rataan down to assist," Andrew told her.

An impatient sigh filtered through the com speakers. "Time is precious, guys," Schyler told them, her voice heavy with frustration. "I'm sure the Chief is busy enough on the surface. Now, quit mother-henning me. I'm an engineer you know."

Andrew opened his mouth to interject some authority into the situation, but was met by static. The com channel to Schyler had blinked out entirely. Frustrated, he slapped his gloved hand down hard on his knee.

Chris realized incidentally that he was sweating, even though his body temperature was carefully regulated by his suit. He wondered if Andrew felt the same nervous pangs, if his heart had quickened its pace also, if he was also this worried about Schyler. He reluctantly surmised the answer. Chris felt strangely selfish, begrudging Andrew his concerns, although he knew he would have felt exactly the same if the situation was reversed.

His thoughts did not dwell on Andrew, however. They inevitably turned back to Schyler. He ached to be down there in the darkness with her, to protect her from whatever dangers might be lurking for her.

A sudden snap of static alerted Andrew the com channel was again open. "Schyler, I want you to stop whatever you're planning to do. That's an order," he commanded.

"Too late," her distracted voice answered, crackling in and out. "I've already started. It was amazingly simple, just a few series of transponders relayed to a communication array which tirggered--"

Suddenly a loud crack of white static echoed in the headsets, sending Chris and Andrew both to their knees. As they dropped, they became aware of a deep rumble and violent trembling, as the ground beneath them literally began splitting apart, like a giant quake was rending the spot where they stood Indeed, the crusty soil buckled and cracked into flying shard like millions of tiny pieces of gravel.

Almost instantly a large crevice formed and the crumbling dirt gave way, threatening to swallow Andrew up. Chris lunged for him, his arm outstretched, only to fall over a jagged precipice. He plummeted head first into the darkness which was pierced occasionally by the orange glow of fiery tentacles. As he fell, Chris prayed for his suit to remain intact. He realized that Schyler must somehow have triggered some automated alarm or a booby trap of some kind. As his body was pelted with debris, his thoughts turned not to concern for himself, but the well being of Schyler. These were the last notions flickering through his mind before he slammed violently into something hard and passed out.

The bridge of the USS Endeavour was eerily quiet, as was the norm for this late hour. The ship was on night watch and hardly a soul stirred. Lt. Commander Marlin Robins sat in the big chair. He tilted his head slowly from side to side stretching the tightened muscles in his neck. It had been a quiet watch and he could feel some stiffness settling into his body.

Lieutenant Ray Fredericks manned the Ops station. He loved that position, but always seemed to draw the quiet rotations. He ached for the chance to be at Ops when something really important happened. He yawned inconspicuously and switched his viewer to long range scans, trying on his own to combat the tedium. The Endeavour's current course took the ship past the edges of the Trilar system. This system had always held a fascination for Ray. It had been the site of a horrendous plague which decimated the human population of the colony once located on the third planet, and was now declared a forbidden zone by Starfleet. The entire system was off limits to any ship operating under Federation jurisdiction.

With idle curiosity he haphazardly scanned the system, searching for any signs of life so many years after the mysterious plague had claimed so many lives. He knew it was a futile, pointless exercise, but reveled in this opportunity to indulge himself in unrestricted use of the main sensor array. Suddenly something caught his eye. It was a glitch, or some anomaly he was sure, but he tightened his search on the third planet. Periodically a blip appeared from behind Trilar III. He blinked then stared at his viewer with renewed intensity. For several minutes he watched as the reading winked on, then off his screen, seemingly taunting him.

After many minutes of observation, he concluded that the blip was indeed a physical object, with measurable mass and density. Shortly he had even deduced that the object seemed to be orbiting the planet--something he knew to be impossible. Yet the proof was right in front of him. Something--probably a ship--was in orbit around a planet which had been declared off limits. "Commander," Ray called out as he swiveled in his chair to face Robbins, "has there been any change recently in the directive regarding the Trilar System?"

The commander startled slightly at this unexpected commotion during this otherwise uneventful evening. "No, it is still a forbidden zone," he recalled.

"Then I think you should have a look at this, sir. There appears to be a ship in standard orbit around Trilar III."

Robbins got to his feet. "On screen," he ordered.

Ray turned back around and with a few quick taps transferred the image before him onto the large forward view screen, minus the scrolling sensor data and computer overlays. There, circling the blue green orb of Trilar III, was a large object, apparently floating in an established orbit.

"Magnify and enhance," Robbins commanded, his heart beginning to beat faster.

Ray already had the image considerably enhanced, but there were a few more magnifications on the viewer. He jumped them all, taking the magnification to the maximum. As the image jumped in size, a few surprised gasps escaped the lips of the bridge crew who had taken interest in the activity. On the screen, floating effortlessly was the gray image of a Starfleet Intrepid Class Starship.

Robbins stared at the image for a brief moment, immobilized by this seeming impossibility. The he made his decision. "I believe it's time to wake the captain."

·

Captain Marcus Forrester was in the middle of a very pleasant dream when a sudden intrusion chirped at him harshly. The shrill clicking was not in keeping with the tranquillity provided him by his dream thus far, and he tried to ignore it, but its persistence made that impossible. He let himself surface from his trance-like state and rubbed his hand roughly across his face, trying to become quickly alert. "Forrester," he responded gruffly to the com tone.

"Captain, I'm sorry to wake you," Commander Robbins voice apologized, sounding sincere, "but there is something here I think you should have a look at."

Forrester sighed. "Could you be a little more specific, Mr. Robbins?"

"Yes sir," he answered. "We've detected an Intrepid Class Starship inside the Trilar Forbidden Zone. It's in orbit around Trilar III and appears to be the USS Avenger."

Forrester blinked, suddenly wide awake. "I'll be there momentarily, Commander," he announced throwing back the coverlet and bounding out of bed.

·

Captain Tobias Sutherland paced back and forth across the bridge of the Avenger listening intently as reports came in from the away team on the surface of the planet below. He was very uncomfortable with the whole situation and he wanted to gather evidence and remove his ship from the Forbidden Zone as quickly as possible. He could hear the voices of Lanei and her science team members evaluating their finds as they placed samples in containment tubes. From what he heard, there was now almost no doubt, Trilar III had definitely experienced the detonation of one or more Metagenic devices. As he attempted to decide what was would be the next course of action, his thoughts were interrupted by his communications officer.

"Captain, you are receiving a Priority One hail from Captain Marcus Forrester of the Endeavour," Ensign Ekim anxiously informed. "The transmission is breaking up pretty badly, sir, but I think I can hold it for you."

Sutherland drew in a deep breath. This kind of intrusion wasn't what he needed just now. However, he needed to head off this already bad situation before it developed into anything worse. "I'll take it in my Ready Room, Ensign. Mr. Rutledge... you have the bridge."

Sutherland walked quickly through the doors of his office, trying to decide just how much of his ship's current situation to divulge to his old friend. Forrester's support would be greatly appreciated during all of this, but that would necessitate implicating him in his plan--opening Marcus up to charges as well. As he walked over to his viewer and sat behind the desk, Tobias still wasn't sure how he was going to handle this call.

"Open channel," he instructed, watching as the screen instantly became filled with the familiar image of his old friend and fellow captain. The transmission was breaking up quite badly, but still it was easy for Sutherland to see the signs of stress on his friend's grim face. "Just cruising through this neck of the woods, Marcus?" Tobias joked, knowing no other way to begin the difficult conversation. The other man did not laugh.

"Captain Sutherland, I need to know why your ship is apparently disobeying Starfleet orders," Forrester demanded stiffly. "I've checked, there have been no alterations in the directive. The Avenger is treading in restricted space, and unless you can explain your actions to me, I will be forced to notify Command at once."

Sutherland held up his hands, urging Forrester to slow down. "I have some very good reasons for being here, Marcus," he assured. "After all the years you've known me, you should know I would never violate a Command directive without just cause."

Forrester eased slightly. "I would very much like to hear your explanation, Tobias," he conceded. "If your reasons are that important to you, I would be interested in hearing them."

"And I would be happy to share them with you... but not over sub-space."

Forrester blinked in surprise at the cryptic undertones in Tobias' voice. "Then withdraw your ship to the edge of the Forbidden Zone and we'll talk. I'll beam aboard your ship."

Sutherland winced at the suggestion. "I'm afraid I can't do that just yet. I have a team down on the surface," he admitted hesitantly.

Marcus' face echoed his concerned surprise. As he was about to respond, the transmission faded out, then cut back in again. "For some reason, our transmission keeps breaking up, Tobias. Did you say you have an away team on the surface?" His annoyance with the deteriorating state of the signal reception was growing.

Sutherland could hardly hear Forrester on the other end. "You're cutting in and out, Marcus. But I can assure you, I have serious reasons for being here," he declared with finality before the transmission winked out all together. Then Sutherland was again alone with his decision.

·

It was a difficult decision for Marcus Forrester to decide to disobey a Starfleet directive by taking the Endeavour into the Forbidden Zone around the Trilar System, but it was the quickest way he saw to get to the bottom of this incident. And where Tobias Sutherland was concerned, he knew the circumstances must have been extenuating. The two had been officers together, served together, and if there was a situation developing here, he decided they would get to the bottom of it together.

Thirty minutes later in his Ready Room, Sutherland took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was waiting for his friend to beam over. He had been very lucky the first ship to detect the Avenger's position had been Endeavour. Had it been almost any other ship in the fleet... he hated to think about what might have happened.

The door chime rang and Marcus entered, escorted by Schoen Rutledge. "Captain, I believe you know Captain Marcus Forrester," Schoen said. Quickly he was dismissed and he set back out to the bridge to monitor the away team.

The two captains shook hands and Tobias gestured to a comfortable chair opposite his desk. "Please be seated, Marcus," he invited. During the time it had taken his fellow captain to travel between ships, Sutherland had come to a decision. He was going to tell Forrester all. They had been friends far too long to hold anything back, and just by being here Marcus was demonstrating an enormous amount of faith. He knew if the situation had been reversed, he would have wanted to know every detail, even if the knowledge would endanger his career.

"I know the situation must have been grave in order for you to defy a command directive and enter this zone," Forrester began delicately. "But I need to know your reasoning."

"Yes, I believe the situation was grave, is grave," Tobias acknowledged. "In fact, I believe the activities which took place here might actually pose a serious threat to all of the Federation, and beyond."

Forrester looked intently at his colleague's telling expression, and immediately he was filled with apprehension. As much as he needed to hear the details, he was suddenly afraid of what the explanation might hold. "Go on, Tobias," he urged.

Sutherland began a recitation of the events leading up to their present situation. He began with Chris Logan's meeting with Dr. Pendleton on Bonaire and the doctor's subsequent demise and finished with the away team's current activities on the planet below. As he spoke, Forrester listened intently, his face a mask. When Sutherland finally paused, it was to wait for Marcus' reaction.

The breath Forrester had been holding slowly escaped from between his pursed lips. Then he looked up at Tobias, whose troubled eyes made him appear far older than his years. "Metagenic weaponry," he repeated slowly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Had I been in your place, Tobias, I would have followed the same course of action," he offered at last. "The question is now... what do we do with this evidence we've gathered so far?"

The simple use of the word we in his friend's response warmed Sutherland's disposition, but he still frowned in response to Marcus' question. He had given much consideration to the subject, all to no avail. "Deciding on a course of action is not going to be easy. It's obvious now that someone, perhaps many, in the upper echelons of Command had to have known, or perhaps even orchestrated, the events which lead to the tragedy on Trilar III. It's extremely difficult for us to know who to trust."

A com tone interrupted sharply, followed closely by Schoen Rutledge's voice. "Captain, we have a Priority One Communiqué coming through addressed to you and Captain Forrester from Starfleet Command. Shall we pipe it through to your Ready Room, sir?"

Sutherland locked eyes with Forrester. A chill passed through him as he realized that Starfleet Command must already know of their location. How could they have been discovered so quickly? The Avenger's crew had been on alert and was continuously scanning the quadrant for approaching ships. Certainly, they would have known if another vessel had come close enough to report them to Command. The more probable possibility was that the saboteur who he and West had discovered on the ship's last mission was feeding information to those at Starfleet Command. It was one thing to have a traitor in the hierarchy at Command, but it was almost unthinkable for him to have a traitor aboard his own ship. His jaw clenched tighter. These thoughts raced quickly through Sutherland's mind before he answered the Ops Chief's query. "Yes, Mr. Rutledge. We will receive the message here. Send it through."

The viewscreen on Sutherland's desk lit up with the Federation emblem and he swiveled it, allowing Marcus a better view. Both captains verified their identities and security clearances and the UFP symbol dissolved away, replaced by the grim face of Admiral Deborah Hewlitt. Her brow was furrowed deeply and strain was etched on every feature of her face.

"Captains," she began coldly, "it has come to my attention that both of your vessels have entered the Forbidden Zone surrounding the Trilar System!" She made no pretense and got right to the point. "Your actions are in direct violation of a standing Starfleet directive. I would like an immediate explanation."

"Admiral," Sutherland began cautiously, "we have uncovered the existence of an artificially created radioactive field surrounding Trilar III. The very existence of this field indicates some kind of forbidden activity has taken place here. Since the field could not be scanned with any degree of confidence, I deemed it necessary to briefly enter the zone in order to investigate."

Her expression remained frozen, as unchanged as a block of stone. "And do you have anything to add to this explanation, Captain Forrester?" Hewlitt asked, her cheeks enflamed, despite efforts to hold back her rage.

"Only that immediate investigation of this phenomena seemed critical, Admiral. We both felt the radioactive field could have been generated to conceal some kind of illicit activity within the zone itself."

Hewlitt grimaced. "And you deemed it urgently necessary to investigate, despite no further corroborating evidence of this activity within the zone?" she asked with doubt. "And you were both in such a hurry to investigate, neither of your ships found the time to alert Starfleet?" She sat for a moment, obviously fuming. "Frankly gentlemen, I don't accept your feeble explanation," she nearly hissed. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "To get this matter cleared up quickly, I am ordering both of your ships to hold position and await escort back to Earth. You can expect the arrival of the USS Renegade, under the command of Admiral Lewis, within the hour. Upon your return you can be assured we will get to the bottom of this!" The viewscreen abruptly went dark.

A wave of resolve built inside Marcus Forrester. He cleared his throat, easing the remaining tension, even though the Admiral's presence had gone. "I'm afraid our options just diminished considerably," he quipped. "Obviously we cannot present your evidence to Admiral Hewlitt, and by your own account, Admiral Lewis could well be in on this whole thing. We need to find someone in authority who will give this information fair consideration." He paused thoughtfully. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Sutherland leaned back in his chair. He had already given this matter some thought, and he knew there was at least one person in the admiralty who would give this information fair consideration. "Admiral Matheson," he told Forrester. "I know we can trust him to do the right thing with what we've learned."

"Fleet Admiral Daniel Matheson?" Marcus asked. He knew the man, or at least knew of his reputation. He was known for being a tough, no nonsense leader, but one who was extremely fair. "I thought he had retired."

"He's still got some fight left in him," Tobias assured. "And I suspect he'll know exactly how to handle our situation."

Forrester nodded. "As long as you're certain we can trust him." With all the rumors of sedition and treachery within the hierarchy of Command, the last thing they needed was to walk into a trap.

"I served with Dan Matheson for twelve years," Sutherland assured. "If there's anything I know about that man, it's that he's as honest and loyal as the day is long." Tobias thought back to the days when he served with Matheson, and a small smile came to his strained face. Then his eyes flitted to the display case on his bookshelf. "In fact, Dan gave me this as a gift when we went our separate ways." He reached into the case and withdrew a small, black object handing it to Forrester for him to examine.

Marcus looked curiously at the tiny object. It was made of a light weight material, and had soft, tactile numeric buttons in the center. On one end was a short, flexible wire or cable with a soft cap on the end. "What's this?" he asked curiously.

Sutherland's smile widened a bit. "It's called a cellular phone. Dan gave it to me when I was given my own command. He's a bit of a historian, and a primitive technology buff. Phones like that one used to be the primary way people communicated on Earth. It's nearly five hundred years old." He looked appreciatively at the small object as Marcus handed it back to him.

"So you think Matheson is our best shot then?"

Sutherland nodded.

"Then we should contact him immediately," Forrester urged. "The longer we delay, the easier it will be for things to go awry... especially with the Renegade on her way."

Tobias agreed. He tapped his chest and opened a channel to Ops. "Mr. Rutledge, please open a secured, Priority One channel to Starfleet Command on Earth, specifically Fleet Admiral Daniel Matheson."

After Rutledge's acknowledgment there were a few minutes of lag time before the Federation seal appeared on Sutherland's desktop viewer. Underneath the logo were the unmistakable words secure transmission. Shortly a woman's face appeared. She seemed to be in her mid to late forties with dark brown hair drawn into a bun. Sutherland recognized her as Matheson's aide. "Hello, Meredith," he said in a friendly voice. "Um, I mean Commander Braden," he said with a false formality and jibing grin.

"Actually, it's captain now," the woman smiled. "It's been a long time, Tobias. How are things?"

Sutherland's face took on an all-business seriousness. "Not well, Meredith. I need to speak with Dan."

She frowned. "Unfortunately the admiral is vacationing. I only took this transmission because I knew it was you. Ordinarily our entire staff would be on vacation as well."

"But there's no rest for the weary?" he strained to maintain his joking facade. He had long known of Meredith's legendary dedication and hard work. For people such as her, vacations didn't exist.

"Is everything all right," she asked genuinely. "You seem stressed."

He nodded. "Things are not going well," he told her truthfully. "I must speak with Dan. Can he be reached?"

Meredith drew in her breath, letting a sigh escape from her lips. "He left explicit instructions, Tobias," she hesitated. "Maybe if you told me what all of this was about..."

"I can't," he said emphatically. He had known Meredith for nearly twenty years, but he couldn't tell her what they had discovered. "I must speak with Dan."

She stared back coldly, unmoved. "Tobias, don't put me in this difficult position. You know I would help you if I--"

"Meredith, please," Sutherland interrupted. His eyes pleaded seriously with her, hoping she would see what was at stake. "I've never asked you for a favor, especially one like this. But please know, if I don't speak with Dan, and soon, many hundreds, possibly thousands of people may lose their lives."

She stared at him, not blinking, her eyes not moving from the screen. She had never known Tobias Sutherland to be so passionate about anything. If this truly meant this much to him... "The admiral is vacationing on New Verdor," she told him at last.

"Thank you, Meredith," he said, reaching to close the channel before she could say anything more. "I owe you," he said, then the transmission was gone. There was much to be done, and a very short time to do it in. He looked at Forrester. "At least our luck appears to be looking up."

"Why's that?" Marcus asked, his forehead wrinkled into a puzzled expression.

"New Verdor is only a few hours away at maximum warp." Sutherland tapped his com badge. "Mr. Rutledge, as soon as the away teams have been recovered, set course for New Verdor, maximum warp."

"Yes, Captain," Rutledge acknowledged. "But the away team has missed its last check-in. They're past schedule."

The two captains exchanged worried glances. Perhaps luck was not with them this day after all. "I'm on my way," Sutherland announced.

·

"New Verdor, Admiral," Hewlitt said to the man on her desktop viewer. "Apparently Captain Sutherland believes he's found evidence worth showing, and that's where he'll be showing it," she said evenly, her voice precisely modulated.

"He'll never make it," Lewis assured smugly. "We're almost to the Trilar System now. This whole thing will be wrapped up very shortly."

Hewlitt's nose wrinkled slightly at the man's braggadocios nature. "Don't be so certain," she cautioned. "He's managed to recruit help."

"Oh?" he questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Captain Forrester and the Endeavour seem to have joined Sutherland's band of insidious traitors. So don't count them out," she hissed. Sutherland and the Avenger had proven to be the most serious threat to their secret in years, and Lewis was treating it too lightly. "They could easily interfere with our plans to go forward with the next test." Lewis straightened. "I'll take care of them, don't worry."

"See that you do," Hewlitt's expression was cold. "I want this to end once and for all."

"I told you... I'll take care of them. One way, or another."

Andrew awoke staring upward into a dark tunnel, a beam of cloudy, iridescent light at its end. A moment's hesitation led him to the conclusion that he was dead, and that all the clichés he had heard about the final ascent were true. Slowly he raised his arm toward the brightness and a hot spike of pain radiated through his shoulder, forcing him into full consciousness, and the realization that he was not dead after all.

His body ached, but he tried to sit up. The action was considerably easier than he expected. His shoulder persisted throb, and for a moment he thought unconsciousness might claim him once more, but he was able to keep upright.

Quickly he hysterically checked his suit. The monitor was no longer functioning, but the suit was apparently intact. For that he was relieved.

He tapped to activate his helmet communicator. "Brower to Avenger, please respond." The plea was met only with the muted hiss of dry static. He tried calling Schyler and Chris, but there was no answer.

Apprehensively he squinted in the darkness, trying to take in his surroundings and recall what had happened. A voice in his head said one word with extreme clarity: Schyler... Feelings of near panic suddenly overtook him when his memories flooded into his mind. In the explosion he had dropped his palm beacon and tricorder. His eyes searched the murky ground of the pit he had fallen into. Light filtering in from above was faint and filled with dust and dirt, making it difficult to distinguish much of anything.

Far across the crevice he was in, Andrew caught sight of someone lying face down on the ground, the person's chest rising and falling with breath. He rushed over to the body, driven by anticipation much stronger than the pain which would have surely held him back.

Gently he rolled the body over and peered through the face plate of the soiled bio-suit. It was Chris. Andrew's heart was mixed with feelings of relief for finding the doctor and a heightened sense of concern for Schyler.

Chris' eyes fluttered open, dilating drastically for a time before focusing on Brower's face peering down at him. "Where are we... wh-what's happen--" he stammered with confusion.

"We're still on the surface," Andrew explained slowly. He began to check Logan over, glad his suit was also intact. "I'm guessing Schyler accidentally set off some sort of booby trap..." he trailed off.

The doctor nodded weakly, a move which caused him a great deal of pain. "I think my leg is broken," he breathed. His mind turned to more important matters. "Where is Schyler? he asked with apprehension.

Andrew was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he answered quietly. If the blast was powerful enough to cause the devastation around them, banging them up so badly from hundreds of meters away, what must it have been like at the flash point? Without any proof, he knew in his gut that she couldn't have survived. As he looked at his friend, he could tell Logan had reached the same conclusion.

"Schyler's dead," Chris' whisper was cracked with emotion. His body went numb as his mind reeled with the implications of what he had just said.

Andrew blew a heavy sigh through his lips. The most hoaky of death clichés rolled through his mind: he'd never had the chance to say good-bye. His eyes began to water. His insides felt empty, violently ripped out by the senselessness of death.

Chris slumped with his back against one of the dirt piles. He spoke, and his voice was dizzied with the intoxication of pain. "I'm numb." He looked at his leg, not that he could tell much through the fabric of his suit. His mind drifted. "I'm too damned tired even to grieve right now..."

Andrew was standing now, facing the darkness, arms crossed, absolutely silent. "Rest, Chris," he told his friend. "You'll feel better." They both needed to rest and conserve their strength until someone came to rescue them... if they ever came.

"Hey, who's the doctor around here, anyway?" Chris replied with a sad smile. It had always been his emotional defense to confront situations like this with attempts at humor. The following silence was filled with his labored breathing.

For a long time the two didn't speak. After what seemed like an eternity pondering what Chris had sensed just before the accident, he finally got the nerve to ask Andrew if his assumptions were correct. "May I ask you a personal question, Andrew?" he asked finally.

"Hmmm?" Brower replied with distraction, pulling himself from the darkness. "Oh, sure. What is it?"

"Will you grieve for her," asked the doctor. "Schyler, I mean. And I'm not just talking about regretting the loss of a crewmate. I mean will you be awake at night, mourning, questioning the value of life itself, as if--"

"As if I still loved her," interrupted Andrew. He had been dwelling on his feelings for her. Was it right that he had denied himself happiness with her? Had he made the wrong choice by taking her for granted? When he finally realized he was still in love with her, those answers seemed clear.

"Yes," Chris said evenly, "as if you still loved her."

Andrew's eyes drifted around the dirt chasm they found themselves in. It possessed an odd, unearthly quality, as if removed somehow from the rest of reality. He somehow knew anything he were to let slip here would not escape. "Yes," he answered softly. "Yes I would."

The doctor remained silent, only his hard breathing giving a clue as to his heightened emotions.

"And since it's obvious you're not in any condition to break my nose, I don't mind telling you there are some things I wish I had shared with her before now."

Chris now chuckled humorlessly. "I've pondered our little situation some. And I don't blame you for your feelings. Mine would be no different."

It didn't seem possible she was gone. Andrew knew Schyler as the personification of life itself. It was hard to believe. He sighed heavily, the air muted against his face shield.

"How will you remember her?" Chris asked.

His voice was dreamy, and it appeared evident he was on the verge of consciousness. Indeed, the question made little sense to Andrew. Nevertheless, he thought for awhile. A few distinct images rushed into his mind when he thought of her. Asleep on his bed in the morning light, her eyes closed, lips parted slightly; or her eyes wide, smiling, hair soaked from the rain, standing outside the theatre they had visited on their first date. Private memories which Andrew had shared with no one, rarely even himself. "I'll remember her as she was," he replied at length. "A beautiful, caring, sweet individual. 'The brightest spot in my darkest day..."

"...and when her flame extinguish, this cage the darkest where I lay'," Chris finished the quote. "From Siron's Odes to Love Told and Untold."

"It was her favorite volume of poetry," commented Andrew bleakly.

Chris mulled this for a moment, wishing he had known this about her; it would have made a wonderful gift. Would have made... the expression saddened him greatly and the immense task of dealing with Schyler's loss suddenly dawned on him. Now a fresh image made its way into his mind: Schyler, dead, lying prone against the brittle ground, her body in pieces. He felt light-headed and life drained from his body. The thought nearly made him vomit. He didn't have the resources to deal with this right now.

He shook his head slowly, trying to brush away the impending waves of grief. The motion made him dizzy and he passed out.

Three paces. The precise measurement of Tobias Sutherland's nervous pacing on the Avenger bridge was three paces. He strode forward three paces, then back toward the command chair. The steps were deliberate and slow. He was worried. There had been no communication with the science team for over thirty minutes now. It was unlike either Lieutenant Lanei or Commander Brower to be late. They had tried to get a transmission through, but some new type of interference was blocking their transmission. He again glanced expectantly toward the Ops console.

Still nothing, Rutledge's dark eyes seemed to tell him. Silently Sutherland cursed this plan and his willingness to go along with it. So far it had proved only to lead to deeper troubles. Now the Endeavour was involved, and soon there would be further difficulties once Admiral Lewis arrived. No, he should have never undertaken this plan. A sudden muted alarm caught his attention.

"We're receiving a distress call from the surface, sir," Rutledge informed as he monitored the communication channel intently "It's Lieutenant Lanei. She's requesting emergency evac of the science team from the surface in a shuttlecraft."

Shuttlecraft! Sutherland thought. What has gone wrong? If Lanei was in enough trouble to request evac before the next transporter window, she must have been in dire straights. "Put her on the screen."

Rutledge shook his head. "It's an automated transmission from the surface. Intra-channel time code says the recording was made seventeen minutes ago. They must have set their emergency beacon to auto-repeat."

Sutherland felt all of the blood drain from his face until his cheeks were wintry cold. There was no longer a doubt--something was very wrong on the surface. "Prep a shuttle," he commanded with icy seriousness.

"Yes, sir," Rutledge answered. "Lieutenant Garvett and a medical team are already loading their shuttle. They'll be ready to launch in less than a minute."

·

The Protector had scarcely touched down on the shuttlebay deck before Captain Sutherland called on the techs to rush in with an egress ramp to begin off-loading the passengers inside. They stepped off one by one, Rataan, Dylan, and Shepard were already out of their environmental suits, but thankfully none of them appeared to be hurt. The last off was Lanei.

"We're it," the Chief Science Officer answered the captain's questioning stare. "The others never made it back to the rendezvous point," she continued with regret. "My guess is they were trapped by the explosion."

"Explosion!" Sutherland gasped with surprise.

"Yes, sir," Lanei answered carefully. "You must have monitored it. It was some kind of sub-surface detonation. That's why we had to evac with the shuttle. Radiation and emissions from the explosion will probably continue to interfere with the sensors for days," she explained, "or several dozen hours at least."

Sutherland was quiet for a moment longer. "And the Commander, and Dr. Logan?"

Lanei reflected on the devastating explosion again. Slowly she shook her head.

"They might have made it... but I'd say the chances are slim," Rataan interjected. "Whatever caused that explosion accomplished its purpose. There's not much left down there," he assessed.

"Are you suggesting the explosions was deliberate Lieutenant?" Sutherland questioned incredulously.

"Probably a booby trap," Rataan answered. "But it was deliberate all right."

"But we have gathered Dr. Logan's proof, sir," Lanei offered in gloomy consolation.

·

Sutherland sat in the ward room half listening to Lanei's conclusions. Others at the hastily called meeting were heeding her more carefully, and he allowed himself this time to ponder the three officers still on the surface. Though the evidence to date did not bare him out, he knew they were still alive.

"...and your proof is absolute?" Captain Forrester questioned.

"Yes, Captain," Lanei answered, a bit thrown off by the man's presence. He had rushed here from the Endeavour, in the middle of ship's night, yet still the man radiated an aura of authority and command. "From the readings and direct samples we obtained on the surface, there can be no question that some type of Metagenic explosion took place here."

"And you concur, Lieutenant," Forrester questioned Rataan.

He nodded. "Although it cannot be determined whether the cause was deliberate or accidental, there was a Metagenic detonation on this planet. From the rate of cellular dissipation, it fits in with our time frame of approximately twenty years."

"I've heard enough," Forrester said reclining in his seat, "Haven't you, Captain Sutherland?"

"Hmmm?" Sutherland's thought's stirred from the surface. "Yes. I agree. Lieutenant Lanei's proof overwhelmingly supports her conclusion." And somehow he knew Admiral Lewis was involved. The only trick now was convincing Starfleet of that.

"And, I assure you, you have the Endeavour's full support in convincing Admiral Matheson of that," Forrester continued.

Sutherland blinked at him in surprise, aware that plans had changed, but not certain why Avenger should be the one to shoulder the burden of proof. "Marc, I have officers on the surface. We can't just pick up and abandon them."

"I don't expect you to," Forrester countered. "My ship is fully equipped to mount a rescue mission. In fact, Commander Sinclair is already doing just that, and my engineering department is busy looking for a way to cut through the interference. Lieutenant McKay is very capable. If there are survivors down there, we'll find them," he assured. "Besides, you have been in on this since the beginning. Your officers have fought on this since the start. Give them a chance to prove they were right."

Tobias knew the other captain was right. For a long time he and his crew had known several Starfleet admirals were on the wrong side of things, now was their chance to prove it. And if Brower, Logan, and Anderson truly did give their lives for this cause, he wanted it to stand for something. "And what of the Renegade?" he cautioned. "She'll be arriving very soon."

Forrester nodded. "That's why you have to get moving. You should be well on your way for New Verdor by now. We'll cover for you."

After a moment's ponderance, Sutherland stood. "Agreed."

Swiftly the room was abuzz with activity as officers from both ships began to make preparations. As he turned to walk to the exit, Forrester shook Tobias' hand. "Don't worry, old friend. We can take care of ourselves, and your officers down below."

·

On the bridge the flurry of activity continued. Despite the uncertainty of the missing crewmembers on the planet's surface, the ship was ready to depart.

"Endeavour reports Captain Forrester and his staff have arrived safely back aboard," Rutledge informed.

Sutherland nodded, taking his seat in the command chair, monitoring departure preps on his monitor. "Helm, stand by to break orbit." He knew the admiral and his men were coming, and he wanted to be as far ahead of them as possible. However, departing from the system at high warp would undoubtedly leave behind a warp signature--easily traceable by the Renegade. They would have to slip quietly out of the system, undetected. "Set your course for New Verdor, warp two, and engage on my signal."

"Shouldn't we wait for the Renegade?" Rutledge asked one last time. "Certainly Admiral Lewis will listen to our evidence."

There was a brief silence as Sutherland locked stares with his Ops Chief, as if to say, don't question my orders. Quietly Rutledge went on with his preparations.

Inattentive to the exchange, the bridge continued to buzz with activity and there was a palpable sensation of anxiety in the air. But strangely, Sutherland knew this kind of atmosphere was what his people thrived on.

"The USS Renegade is now appearing on long-range sensors," Rataan informed anxiously from the tactical station. "They will be entering the system and dropping out of warp in less than one minute. We'd better get moving."

"Mr. Rataan, rig the ship for ultra quiet and go emissions dark," Sutherland ordered, glancing expectantly at Ops for confirmation.

Rutledge nodded. "All stations report ready, Captain."

On the captain's order, the sleek twin nacelles outrigged along Avenger's hull folded up and after a brief surge of power, the ship quietly slipped into warped space, disappearing from the Trilar System.

"Captain," Ops Chief Marlin Robbins announced with concern, "Sensors are detecting a ship approaching the system at high warp. It appears to be a Federation ship." His fingers danced across the soft, tactile workstation. The ship was an Ambassador Class cruiser. "I'm receiving their ident beacon now. It's the Renegade."

Forrester stared at the viewscreen and the swirling white clouds which mottled the atmosphere of the planet below, hiding the death and destruction which still lingered there. He wondered how many Federation citizens had died here, and what secrets they took with them to their graves. And he wondered how many more would have to die before the whole truth would be known. Truly he hoped his former Second Officer, Andrew Brower, and the rest of his team were still alive. The Endeavour would do their best to make certain one of their own was looked after.

Whatever was to happen here, he wanted history to record that he had done his best to minimize the number of lives lost. "Mr. Robbins, take the Endeavour into a higher orbit and drop our shields." He wanted to appear as deferential and non-confrontational as possible. "Open hailing frequencies and extend our greetings to the admiral," he instructed calmly.

·

Within minutes, the Renegade had arrived in orbit of Trilar III, cruising to within a few hundred meters of the Galaxy Class Endeavour. Without so much as a hail, the bridge was suddenly filled with the blue glow of transporter beams. Admiral Lewis and an armed security detail of about twenty had taken up strategic locations about the command center. While their weapons were not drawn, the intent was clear. Forrester remained calm however, and outwardly friendly. "Hello, Admiral. I expected to see you under less... strained circumstances," he said glancing around his bridge at the alarmed stares of his crew now confronted by fellow Starfleet officers who were nearly treating them as criminals.

"Where is Captain Sutherland and the Avenger," Lewis demanded abruptly. There was no pretense of subtlety in his voice.

The senior officer's rude behavior signaled Forrester of what lie ahead, yet he remained outwardly pleasant and calm, almost overly so. "There's been a situation," he explained. "There are three missing officers on the surface below."

Lewis scoffed. "I'm not interested in that," he said with disdain. "If they were ignorant enough to break the quarantine, then they deserve their fate. I am only interested in finding Captain Sutherland and his ship of misfits. Now, where is he?"

Clearly the admiral was not going to behave in a civil manner, and Forrester would no longer subject his crew to the man's near rantings. "Perhaps you would care to discuss this in my Ready Room, Admiral," the captain suggested in a tone filled with implicit undercurrents which denoted he was not asking. Sharply he set off for his office beside the main bridge. The admiral and two security officers followed.

Once inside, Lewis' ranting continued. "Captain, you are in direct violation of a Starfleet directive. Now, I demand you tell me the--"

"Admiral, I suggest you take a seat and hear me out," Forrester interrupted as politely as he could manage. "There are good reasons for my breech of Starfleet regulations, the validity of which will be decided at later time. Right now what is important is the truth." He paused partially for dramatic effect, but also to gauge the other man's reaction. "I am in search of that truth, and Captain Sutherland is in search of that truth."

"I am not interested in your interpretations of right and wrong, Captain. You violated Starfleet orders, and for that you will be punished. Right now, I am ordering your ship to leave this sector. And if you heed my instructions, I just may testify for leniency at your court martial," Lewis ground out his words, seemingly enjoying every one of them.

Now it was Forrester's turn to show anger, though muted and somewhat stifled. "This ship is currently engaged in rescue operations, and until they are completed to my satisfaction, the Endeavour will not be leaving." His eyes locked with the admiral's, waiting.

After a tense moment Lewis seemed ready to back down. "Very well. You will take your lumps at your court martial. Endeavour may stay to conduct its rescue operations," he conceded, "but from this moment forward I am in command of this ship. Captain Forrester, you are hereby relieved."

As Forrester stared blankly at his superior officer, he heard the admiral excuse him from his own Ready Room. "Please give the commander and I a moment's privacy. I'll allow you to break this news to your crew."

As soon as Forrester had departed, Lewis began issuing orders. He tapped his communicator and contacted the Renegade. "Captain Reynolds, as we feared, Sutherland and the Avenger are heading for New Verdor. I will be remaining here. It is up to you to make certain that ship does not arrive at its destination."

"You're giving me full discretion, Admiral?" Reynolds thin voice questioned. "They may resist."

Lewis smiled. "I'm counting on it." His expression went dry. "Stop that ship before they reach New Verdor, by any mean necessary. Lewis out."

An eerie silence hung in the Ready Room of this unfamiliar ship. "And what of the officers still on the surface?" Commander Dulles asked, brushing his blonde hair back from across his forehead. "They may have found something."

The admiral's thin eyes searched the younger officer's seeing only unquestioning loyalty there. "Eliminate them. Take a shuttle to the surface, and make sure you don't find them. In fact, as of this moment, they do not exist."

Rataan's eyes flitted to the indicator on his console. He enhanced the signal and called for confirmation. "Captain, I'm reading a ship closing on an intercept course."

Sutherland rubbed his chin. And so it begins. "Can you be more specific, Lieutenant?"

Rataan shook his head, eyes not glancing from his workstation. "No. But it's definitely a Federation ship, closing at warp nine-point-four. If it's the Renegade, she's not transmitting an ident or registry beacon. The ship is emissions dark."

"They'll catch up and rendezvous in less than two minutes at present speed," Rutledge spoke up. He eyed the captain for a reaction. There was none. "Sir, we may still be able to explain our way out of this, if you--"

"Mr. Rutledge, that is all," Sutherland interrupted in a quiet, stern tone. "We've gone this far. I'm not about to turn around now." Whatever would be the price for his actions, he was fully prepared to accept the consequences, but he would accept punishment from neither Admiral Lewis nor Captain Reynolds. He would take his sentence only from Admiral Matheson, and only once the Avenger had reached New Verdor.

"But Captain," Rutledge protested again, "By fleeing we are breaking--"

"Enough!" Sutherland flashed. He had long trusted Schoen's opinion, and he had been a valued asset over the past two years, but now was not the time for distention on his bridge. "You are relived, Mr. Rutledge."

For a brief moment Schoen was stunned, not moving from his post. Then the reality of the captain's declaration to set in. Under blanket of near complete silence he stepped to the aft rim of the bridge and waited, seemingly forever, for the turbolift.

Once the Ops Chief had departed and the tension on the bridge had dissipated slightly, Sutherland turned his attention back to the situation at hand. "Mr. Jansen, increase speed to warp nine-point-five. Mr. Rataan, secure from ultra-quiet and route that power to engineering."

As Sutherland expected, at nearly the moment the Avenger accelerated there was an incoming message from the pursuing ship. "It's Captain Reynolds," the communications officer informed. "He says if we don't disengage our warp engines and surrender that he'll be forced to use any means necessary to stop us."

The captain blinked with surprise at the outright audacity of Reynolds' transmission. His eyes narrowed. "Put it on screen, Ensign." The image of the Renegade bridge snapped onto the screen. In the command chair was Captain Reynolds, looking as grave as Sutherland could ever remember. "Would you truly use any means necessary, Captain?" Sutherland asked finally. "Would you fire on another Starfleet ship simply to protect Admiral Lewis and his supporters," he said bluntly, seeing no point in belaboring their inevitable conversation.

Reynolds nodded his head slowly. "You do not understand," he said at last. "You have no idea what's going on here... or what's at stake."

Sutherland's eyes narrowed further. "I know that Admiral Lewis has broken Federation law, and by covering up the truth, you are an accessory to his crimes."

Reynolds paused thoughtfully. "You and your crew are the ones who have broken the law, Captain Sutherland. And I ask you one last time... stop your ship and surrender."

"Or what?" Sutherland baited. "Lewis has told you to destroy my ship? I have serious doubts that even you could follow such a tenuous order. Starfleet ships do not fire on one another."

"Then let me remove any of your doubts, Captain, "he said with determination. The viewscreen abruptly flickered back to the expanse of mottled warp space.

"What do you suppose he means by that?" asked Lanei, seated at the Science console to the starboard side of the bridge. Sutherland eyed her with a reticent stare.

"Captain," Rataan said nervously," the Renegade is powering up her forward weapons and shields."

Sutherland turned toward the tactical station. He knew the other ship couldn't possibly be within weapons range. At this distance, Reynolds was merely blustering. Yet the situation warranted caution. "Is there any chance they could reach us?"

"None, sir," Rataan answered, nodding his head. "Not at this distance."

Keenly Sutherland was aware something was afoot, yet he could not decipher the mystery. What was Reynolds up to? "Take the ship to red alert, all hands to stations." Whatever was about to happen, he would be prepared.

For a few tense minutes more, the bridge was filled only with silence, then the ship abruptly shook with tremendous force and the whole vessel could be felt shuddering under some great strain. It felt as if Avenger were suddenly decelerating. The atmosphere exploded with flurry of sudden activity.

"Captain!" Jansen shouted. "We've lost helm controls. The ship has dropped out of warp!" He tried in vein, but the console before him was now dark.

"Warp power is off-line," Rataan reported. "Com lines to Engineering are down."

Sutherland glanced at Lanei, and he saw her immediately headed for a turbolift. "What's the status on the Renegade?" he asked Rataan.

"Closing. They'll be within weapons range in less than two minutes."

Sutherland's mind raced. The Avenger's situation had gone from very good to very bad in a matter of seconds, and help couldn't help but assume it was no accident, especially given the previous evidence he had a saboteur aboard. He couldn't stop to think about that, however. They needed to get back underway, or face the mercy of Captain Reynolds, a particularly unappealing prospect just now.

"I think I can get a com link open to Engineering now, Captain," Ensign Ekim said. "Yes," he fiddled a moment longer with the controls at her communications station, "Commander West is standing by, sir."

"Commander, we need to get this ship underway, immediately," Sutherland told the engineer.

"We're still picking up the pieces down here, Captain," Lucas answered regretfully. "We're not even sure what's going on."

"Commander, if you don't get the warp engines back up in less than one minute, that's all that's going to be left of this ship... pieces. I suggest you make haste with your investigation and get us moving again."

"Do you really believe Captain Reynolds will fire on another Starfleet ship, Captain," Rataan asked, "especially one that's disabled.

Sutherland eyed the naive, young officer, hoping he was right, but somehow knowing there was too much at stake here for Reynolds to allow them to remain alive. One way or another, Avenger had interfered in Admiral Lewis' plans for the last time. This would either be his demise, or theirs.

"Bridge, this is West," came the weary, frustrated voice from down in Engineering. "We found the problem. Seems someone overrode the core management system and began an uncontrolled dump of the slush deuterium into the core. Lanei and I are conducting a computer trace now."

"That's excellent," Sutherland said dismissively, "but how soon until we can get underway?"

"We're purging and reinitializing the core now. We should be at full power in less than three minutes."

The captain was shaking his head. "You have about thirty seconds, Sutherland out." He glanced at Rataan.

"They're still closing, weapons standing armed and ready." He eyed the status indicators nervously. The tension on the bridge was nearing a fevered pitch, yet everyone remained calm. "The Renegade will be within range in twenty seconds, Captain. Should we arm our own weapons systems?"

"No," Sutherland maintained as he watched the growing image of the approaching Ambassador-class ship on the viewscreen. "Stand by with defensive measures only." He would not fire on another Starfleet ship. He could not. All he could do now was trust in West's abilities to get the warp systems back up and running. "Helm, begin an evasive maneuver sequence, full impulse."

"They're locking photons," Rataan updated. In the next few moments he seemed to feel the collective hope that Reynolds might be bluffing fade from those on the bridge.

"All decks, brace for impact."

As the larger ship dropped out of warp and swooped toward Avenger there was little time wasted before the one-sided battle commenced. A volley of photon torpedoes sped from the attacking ship, easily overtaking and striking the smaller, limping ship. Two direct hits.

"Aft-port shields are weakened, but holding," Rataan apprised over the noise on the bridge.

Sutherland remained outwardly calm as the ship was buffeted by another photon barrage. The ship was strong, but this would indeed be a test of what she could withstand.

Another barrage, then another pummeled the Avenger. Then the Renegade launched a phaser assault, hoping to drain the shields of its prey, moving in finally for the assault

"Shields can't take much more!" Rataan warned. "Captain, we've got to fight back! Another few hits and they'll finish us!"

The roar on the bridge had grown deafening. All around consoles had either erupted into flames or exploded with violent impact. In the distance explosions could be heard rocking the ship. "What progress with those engines, Mr. West," Sutherland demanded over the com, but there was no answer. Another explosion took out the bridge lighting, leaving only the reddish glow of the emergency beacons and the red alert tracers.

"Shields are now at fourteen percent and weakening, Captain!"

Sutherland felt helpless. He could not fire on fellow officers, yet being destroyed wasn't exactly a preferred option. He had to do something. "Helm, bring us about, one-hundred-eighty degrees. Set a direct course for the Renegade."

"Captain, that's a suicide run. They'll have weapons lock at point blank range!" Rataan cautioned against the seemingly hopeless maneuver.

"Have you ever tried to fire a weapon at a charging bear, Mr. Rataan?" Sutherland asked impatiently.

Honestly, if a bear were charging directly at him, firing his weapon would be the furthest thing from his mind. He'd probably be running for... Kale nodded in sudden understanding.

"Mr. Ford, transfer all internal power, including life support, to the shields and structural integrity fields. Ramp all generators to one-hundred-fifty percent of capacity," Sutherland barked at the replacement Ops Officer. "Mr. West, if you can hear me, I really need that warp power, now!"

"The Renegade isn't moving, Captain. But they've ceased fire," Rataan apprised.

"Captain! Warp power is back on line!" Jansen shouted upon seeing his status board finally come to life.

Sutherland nearly leapt from his seat, headed for the helm console. "Mr. Jansen, I'll take the con."

The helm officer looked puzzled for a brief second, but still he jumped out of his seat, allowing the captain access to the controls.

Quickly Sutherland set in the course coordinates and then took manual control of Avenger's guidance systems. In a last-ditch effort he increased speed by firing all of the reaction control thrusters.

Rataan wasn't certain what was going on, but the ship seemed to be a runaway train headed straight for the Renegade.

"Mr. Rataan, sound collision," the captain said. The Renegade grew closer and closer, so rapidly it was hard to keep a guess on his maneuver, but just as the shields of the two ships were about to collide, Sutherland engaged the warp engines. As the shields of the two ships collided, a tremendous force ripped through the Avenger, sending everyone lurching to the deck. For a moment all power was off and distant explosions tore through the ship. But after a brief second or two, workstations began to come back on, and as Sutherland pulled himself back up into the pilot's seat he updated himself on the situation. Thankfully, his little stunt had worked. They were speeding away at warp, and the Renegade was not yet pursuing. Now it was time to see if the ship was still in one piece.

·

"Weeks, Captain," Commander West apprised wearily. "That's how long it's going to take to get the ship back at operational efficiency." He knew Sutherland had done the only thing he could by attempting the save-our-skins maneuver, but using the Avenger as a battering ram had played havoc with nearly every internal system. It was wondrous the ship hadn't been destroyed entirely. He could only hope the Renegade had faired as badly.

Sutherland was reclining in his chair at the round conference table in the ward room. Very few of his officers were present, and the feeling he got from staring at all of the empty chairs was disconcerting. Brower and Logan were missing, and Rutledge was cooling his heels in his quarters. The few who were present seemed none too pleased with the present situation. "A few weeks is a very nebulous answer, Mr. West. Why don't you narrow it down for me a bit."

"In a nut shell," Lucas began by grabbing his padd, the list obviously too long to recount from memory, "Main power has completely failed. What little power we have left is what we can siphon from the warp engines. But that's not much, because the warp engines are out of balance. We can't keep running them as hard as we are or we'll risk blowing them completely. It's my guess that we'll have to drop out of warp sometime within the next hour, or we'll be looking at a cascade detonation of the whole warp reaction system. Virtually all other systems are not functioning. Life support is operating only in shelter areas, transporters aren't working, the replicators are off-line, and the weapons systems are not functioning--"

"I get the idea, Commander" Sutherland interrupted. His tone was somber and his expression bleak.

"And that's only the big stuff," Lucas said. "There's also the prospect of our saboteur," West said with frustration. "We should have dealt with this when we first found out about it," he protested, receiving a sudden chiding stare from the captain.

Rataan's attention perked up. "What saboteur?" His heart rate began to pick up as he deciphered that he had been left out of some very critical pieces of ship's information which at least West, and maybe some of the others, were privy to.

Sutherland's eyes locked with West's angrily. But his voice was quiet. "We've had a saboteur on board, at least since the last mission. But I've wanted to keep it quiet."

"Even from your own Chief of Security!" Rataan shouted incredulously. "Sir, this is undoubtedly one of the most serious--"

"Now is not the time, Kale!" the captain said angrily, raising his voice. "You weren't informed because I though it best to keep the information close to the vest until we could find a way to catch this person. In hindsight, that decision was in error. But we can discuss that later. Right now I am concerned with the safety of the crew and getting our information to Admiral Matheson."

Kale sat back in his chair, stung from the reprimand. But he wasn't about to let this drop. Later he would talk with West and get to the bottom of this. There would be no saboteur running lose aboard this ship while he was in charge of security.

"The ship is running out steam, and we're running out of time," Sutherland continued. "I need options people, and I need them soon."

"What about taking a shuttlecraft or a runabout?" West suggested.

The captain had already thought of that. It was plausible enough, but shuttles and runabouts weren't known for their speed or range. "We need something with more speed and maneuverability. And a shuttle or runabout would be visibly detected by the Renegade. If this plan is going to work, we'll have to come up with some sort of diversion."

"What about the launch?" Lanei asked. She was referring to the runabout sized drop ship on the undersurface of the Avenger, sometimes incorrectly referred to as the captain's yacht. "It's fast, and very maneuverable. And in keeping with our need for a diversion, it can detach from the ship much quicker and at much higher speeds than any of the craft launched from the shuttlebay."

Sutherland looked at her, almost beaming. "Excellent. We'll be getting to New Verdor via the Pioneer then. Now, does anyone have any ideas on how we can keep Reynolds at bay longer enough for us to get it launched and underway?"

"The best tactic would be to hide the Avenger from the Renegade's sensors for a period of several minutes. During that time, the Pioneer could slip away undetected," Rataan offered.

"We need to conceal ourselves behind some planet, or a small moon," West picked up. "They'd still be able to find us, but in the confusion, it just might be possible to get the launch out and away."

Sutherland nodded. "But it shouldn't be just any planet. We need to find one with a very dense, unfriendly atmosphere, hopefully give us the cover we need to hide from the Renegade's sensors."

Lanei quickly punched up a list of data on her table console, looking for such a place. There wasn't much to choose from, hostile or friendly. "On course for New Verdor there are only fourteen systems with any planetary bodies," she informed. "With warp power limiting us to only those we can reach in under an hour, we've narrowed it down to three. The Brakos and Dinos Systems both contain class-M worlds, which leaves us with Calios, and its only world, a class-H giant." Blue and green columns of data scrolled up and down her screen laid over a swirling image of the subject planet. "The atmosphere is frequently charged by electromagnetic storms, and the sub-surface soil is dense with irradiated carbon deposits. It's approximately forty minutes away at our present speed."

Sutherland made a distasteful face. "Not the kind of place I'd like to visit, but it sounds perfectly suited to our needs. Hopefully the electromagnetic storms will give us sufficient cover from the Renegade's sensors," he said thoughtfully. "So that's the plan. Lanei, I want you to be responsible for the preparations aboard the Pioneer, as Mr. West has his hands full with repairs. Lucas, continue doing your best to repair the ship. Mr. Rataan, I would like a full tactical analysis of the Calios System before we arrive. We'll all reassemble on the bridge in thirty minutes." Quickly they were dismissed and Sutherland headed for the bridge.

The other officers began to wander off to their appointed tasks one by one.

"Lucas, wait," Kale called after him as he sprinted to catch up in the corridor outside the ward room. The other paused reluctantly at the turbolift doors and faced him in the corridor. "I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Kale?" Lucas said rather impatiently. "I have lots of work to do."

"I know," Kale acknowledged, brushing past the engineer into the waiting turbolift. "This won't take long."

As soon as they had both entered the car and input a destination, Kale tactfully began his inquiry into the as yet mysterious idea that a saboteur could possibly be lurking among Avenger's ranks. "When was I going to be told?"

Lucas looked at his younger colleague regretfully. "Look, it wasn't my choice. Captain Sutherland was worried that we would have another witch hunt on our hands, like what happened to Brower when he first came on board."

Kale nodded, understanding full well how dangerous it was to have a ship filled with gossip, innuendo, and rumor. Perhaps it was even more dangerous than a saboteur. If that was the reasoning behind Sutherland's intent to keep this information from him he could live with it, but if there was something more, he needed to know. "I'm the ship's Chief of Security for heaven's sake. If I can't be trusted, who can be?"

Lucas shifted uncomfortably. He truly felt for Rataan, and had even argued in favor of informing all of the senior staff about the saboteur, but the captain had decided against it. "I think he decided against telling you because he suspects the saboteur may be someone high up in Avenger's ranks," he answered finally after a long, thoughtful pause.

The more he dug, the less Kale liked what he heard. It was almost inconceivable for some kind of saboteur even to be on board, less likely the person could be a high ranking officer--especially when Kale was supposed to be in charge of keeping the ship safe from such things. "Certainly he doesn't suspect me?"

Lucas shook his head. "No."

"Then who?"

Again Lucas shifted uneasily. He couldn't say much more without breaking the captain's order to remain quiet, and Rataan's pressing didn't make things any easier on him. "I think you know. Just give it some thought."

Now it was Kale's turn to feel ill at ease. His mind raced. Nothing came readily to him, but when he searched, only one name kept popping back into his thoughts, Rutledge. Schoen had known about the secret base on Lia IV. He had known all along and concealed the information from everyone. Since then Kale knew things were tense between Rutledge and Brower over the incident, but that was one thing. Suspecting Rutledge of treason was quite another. "Rutledge?" he whispered.

Lucas could see Rataan wrestling with his realization. "Think about it, Kale. Where was Schoen earlier when our accident happened in engineering? He wasn't on the bridge."

That information was far from even being circumstantial. There was no connection. He shook his head.

"Only a command level officer has the kind of clearances necessary to do something like that," Lucas argued, "and to lock out communication functions. The evidence points to him."

"What evidence?" Kale bolstered. "Have you found anything conclusive in your computer traces?"

"No."

"Then how can you say for certain it was Rutledge?" Kale countered.

"Truthfully?" Lucas asked. "I can't. Just call it a feeling."

The turbolift came to a stop and the doors opened.

"Like the feeling you had when Brower came aboard," he reminded as Lucas stepped out into Main Engineering. "You didn't trust him either." All he saw was a fleeting frown as the engineer walked away. As the doors slid closed again, Kale vowed to get to the bottom of this. "Bridge," he barked.

·

Thirty minutes later the senior staff had reconvened on Avenger's main bridge. Even Rutledge was present.

"By now you are all familiar with our plan," Sutherland said. "And I need every single one of you to carry it out. Lanei, you'll be accompanying me on the Pioneer. Lucas, your services are needed in engineering. Get the ship back together. Rataan and Rutledge, I want you both here to help watch over the crew." Sutherland drew in a deep breath, as what he was about to say was difficult. "Mr. Rutledge... you have the bridge until I return."

Rataan gasped. He was angry enough that the captain was leaving the ship without a security escort, but he was even angrier over the decision to leave Rutledge in charge--especially if he was suspected of being a traitor. Focusing, he shook it off. "Captain, I have to protest," he argued. "I don't think you should be leaving the ship without protection."

"We'll be fine. I want as few people involved in this risk as possible, Mr. Rataan. Your responsibility is to stay here and watch over the ship. Besides, the Pioneer is armed, should it come down to a fight."

Summarily the captain departed and Rataan was left on the bridge with Rutledge and the other bridge officers. He couldn't quite tell, but Kale wondered if the captain's last remark weren't in some way a reference to watching over Rutledge. A sudden jolt in the ship grabbed his attention.

"Wind shears," Jansen reported from the Con. "They're getting worse."

"Steady as she goes," Rutledge said. "We want to give the captain a safe send off." As he intently watched the swirling clouds on the viewscreen, Schoen suddenly grabbed his head, splitting with pain and fell from the command chair onto the floor.

Attention on the bridge was focused on the fallen officer, and Kale rushed to the lower level of the bridge and called for a medic, but by this time Rutledge was getting up. "There's no need for anyone from sickbay," he said dryly. "They've been coming and going for about two days now. It'll be gone in a minute."

Kale wasn't convinced, and he stood near Schoen for a few minutes longer. The man still looked to be in pain, and suddenly Kale noticed he appeared flush. "Maybe you should lie down in the captain's Ready Room," he suggested.

"Let it drop, Kale!" Rutledge shouted, visibly startling many in the room. "I'm fine." Instantly he regretted his overreaction.

Kale locked eyes with the half Betazoid for a moment, then decided not to pursue it. Hesitantly he headed back to his station near the aft of the bridge.

"I've received the verification code. The captain and Lieutenant Lanei are safely underway," reported the young warrant officer from the Mission Ops station.

"Very well," Rutledge said, turning his attention back to the viewscreen. "Continue with landing procedures."

·

Within another ten minutes the Avenger was safely on the tenuous ground of the only planet in the Calios System. The Renegade was closing in.

"They're entering orbit now, Commander," said Travis Ford currently manning the Ops station.

"Maintain communications silence," Rutledge instructed.

"Sir, they've taken up a polar orbit and seem to be scanning for us."

Rutledge half-smiled, then another slamming headache racked his body and pain shot through him. This time, though, maybe through sheer will, he fought off the waves of nausea and regained his composure.

After several minutes, the Renegade finally contacted the damaged starship laying low on the surface.

"They're demanding our surrender, Commander," Ford dictated. "Captain Reynolds says if we don't meet his terms, he'll have no choice but to destroy the Avenger."

Rutledge look at the swirling gasses on the viewscreen. He could stall no longer, and he only hoped it was enough. "Tell them... we'll meet their terms. We surrender."

"What?" Rataan said incredulously, beginning to believe in the mounting evidence against Rutledge. What was he up to?

"There's a new incoming message from the Renegade, sir. It's Captain Reynolds demanding to speak with Captain Sutherland," Ford apprised.

"Put it on screen."

"Where is Captain Sutherland?" Reynolds demanded of the junior officer.

"He's down checking some damage in Main Engineering," Rutledge lied. "We're hurt pretty bad."

Reynolds shrugged off the reference to damage. "Commander, I hereby order you to surrender you ship and prepare to beam to the Renegade at once."

"Nothing would make me happier, captain," Rutledge said in what everyone on the bridge now recognized as his own brand of dry sarcasm, "but if you'll take the time to scan this planet, you'll see that the atmosphere is fairly dense in electromagnetic particles, and use of the transporter is not possible."

"Then return your ship to orbit at once," he demanded.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible either, sir. We've sustained too much damage. The only way Avenger is coming off this rock is with the help of a Starfleet tug," Rutledge lied convincingly, hoping that the atmosphere would also prevent Reynolds from scanning the ship and learning of his deception, though it wasn't far from the truth.

Reynold's face turned three shades of brilliant red before he could speak. "You and your captain are only delaying the inevitable, Commander! I'm sending a shuttle down to the surface to meet you. And Captain Sutherland had better be there to greet my tactical officer. Renegade out."

·

After nearly a twenty-five minute ride through some of the most turbulent atmosphere he'd ever seen, Lieutenant Brennan stepped from the Renegade shuttle into the Avenger's airlock. There to meet him was the man he had seen earlier on the Renegade's viewscreen and another man, a lieutenant. "Where's Captain Sutherland?" he demanded harshly.

"Overseeing repairs in Engineering," Rutledge continued to lie.

"Men, I want you to search this ship," Brennan said as a shuttle full of Renegade security men poured into the airlock. "Find Sutherland and contact me."

·

Five minutes later, Brennan found himself having a very uncomfortable conversation with Captain Reynolds via the Avenger viewscreen on the main bridge.

"Gone?" Reynolds demanded quietly. "How can they be gone?"

"The ship's launch is missing, Captain, as are two officers, the Captain and Science Officer."

"This was all a diversion!" Reynolds concluded finally. He looked expectantly to Rutledge.

"I thought he was in Engineering," Rutledge said innocently. "If he left the ship, he didn't tell me."

"Nice try, Commander. I only hope it works better for you at your court martial," Reynolds said angrily, then turned his attention to the Renegade helmsman. "Reestablish course for New Verdor, maximum warp."

"Sir, what about me and my men?" Lieutenant Brennan asked, suddenly starting to feel claustrophobic in the midst of a ship full of unfamiliar officers.

"It's a long way back to Earth, Lieutenant." Then the viewscreen flickered to darkness.

As an unheard round of cheers went up on the Avenger bridge, Schoen grabbed his throbbing temples, dropping to the deck, writhing in agony.

Kale jumped the rail between the upper and lower bridge and rushed to his side. Rutledge was now unconscious, his skin pale, and his heart rate weak. He slapped his com badge. "Medical emergency, Dr. Murphy, to the bridge!"

Schyler awoke to the stench of dried blood, namely her own. Confined inside the bio-suit the odor was pungent, yet she could not feel exactly where she was bleeding.

She lay in the dark for several long minutes, attempting to piece together the events which had led to her wounded condition. Her mind was clouded by the dull ache of her entire body and it was difficult to think. She sat up, which revealed nothing more to her. Squeezing her eyes shut and rubbing her temples, she hoped to coax the suppressed memories from her mind. She could remember working fervently, a feeling of apprehension, then an incredible shock. Slowly the rest of the pieces fell into place; the Metagenics depository, Chris and Andrew's warnings, the alarm, it all washed over her like a mud flow.

Beneath her, she could feel the dirt was hot, almost burning. Something instinctively told her the ground she was laying on was unstable. She rose, trying to gauge its steadiness with her weight. She doubted it could hold her for much longer. She needed to escape from her dark prison, and quickly.

·

Sweat dripped down Andrew's cheek, and he wondered if the annoying kink which had been developing in his neck over the last few hours would ever disappear... if they ever made it out of here. His relatively broad shoulders were hunched together painfully as he tried to navigate his way up the long, narrow tunnel he found himself in. Chris was close behind. They hoped the upward leading path would take them to the surface, but they had been at it for hours. Soon they would run out of air, or die of exhaustion. He sighed heavily.

A few feet behind him, Chris grunted, "See anything in the way of the surface yet?"

"No," Andrew sighed again. They were pressing toward the light, but it never seemed to come any closer. "You doing all right down there?"

Chris looked down at his leg, now locked in a makeshift splint of packed mud. It wasn't much, but without removing his bio-suit, there wasn't much else he could do. "Yeah, I'll make it. Just as long as we're not racing."

A thin smile crept briefly across Andrew's lips. The sensation felt good, but oddly unfamiliar. He felt as though he should never allow himself to smile again. "As long as we keep moving, we'll be all right," he coaxed as they moved farther upward.

·

There were three of them, a tall, blonde commander, a dark-haired lieutenant, and a sandy-color haired ensign, though it was hard to tell through their suits. Schyler knew they weren't from Avenger. They were all muscular, their builds filling out the yellow-orange Starfleet-issue bio-suits. The blank area on their chest where a com badge should have been was quite noticeable. So were the type III phaser rifles they had aimed at her chest.

"Who are you?" the dark-haired lieutenant demanded.

"Who am I?" replied Schyler with confused indigence. "Who in the hell are you? Upon crawling out of the dark tunnel from the depth of Trilar III, the last thing she expected to see were three toughs, each toting Starfleet gear and decked out in Starfleet apparel, demanding answers from her.

The dark-haired thug apparently did not appreciate Schyler's insolence. With an angered grunt he advanced on her, raising his weapon high above his head, intent on smashing it down on her face.

"Stop, Lieutenant!" Dulles commanded harshly, watching as the other man slowed his advance and lowered his weapon. "She can't tell us anything if she can't talk. Besides, it's obvious she's the engineer from the Avenger." He turned to face her. His eyes were sinister and his small, wiry mouth twitched with annoyance. "You are Schyler Anderson, are you not?" he demanded.

"Who are you?" she insisted.

He ignored her plea. "Where are the two men who accompanied you to the surface?"

Her mouth fluttered as she tried to give cohesion to the tumult within her head. It was a question she had asked herself and obsessed about for the eternity she had spent crawling through the underground catacombs. She prayed constantly for their safety, but for all she knew, they might in fact be dead.

After a moment watching her sputter, the ensign leaned in close, pressing his face shield to hers. "We have ways of making you talk, regardless of your cooperation." His voice was oily.

"I don't know," she blustered finally. "I swear, I wish I knew, but I don't--"

"Shut up!" the lieutenant bellowed. "Your life is only worth keeping to us if you know the location of your two companions. We will drive the answer from you with our bare hands if we have to. If you still won't tell, we won't waste any time killing you." He paused, allowing his barrage of threats to sink in. "Now, I ask you again... where are the others?"

The weight of the man's intimidation forced her mind to race. She though for a moment about sticking with the truth, but decided against it. Whoever these men were, they obviously meant business, and they didn't want her nosing around below. Her only conclusion was that they had come to stop the truth. And that meant the only way for her to stay alive was to lie. "They're down in one of the side tunnels," she told the man finally, "brining up some of the storage containers from the depot."

Her captor looked at her for a moment, contemplating, studying her eyes. "Cuff her," Dulles said finally. "We'll need her to lead us to them." Soon a magnetic pair of wrist cuff were clamped tightly on Schyler's wrists. "Let's get going," the man barked, and the four of them set off.

·

"Oh my lord," was all Andrew could say when his poked his head through the crevice at the end of the tunnel he and Chris had been traversing.

"What?" Chris called from behind, "What is it?" His voice was a contrast of fatigue and eagerness. "Have we reached the surface yet?"

"Not exactly..." replied Andrew with distraction. He popped up through the opening, emerging into what he could only assume was part of the underground depository Schyler had found just prior to the blast. It was amazing, not only that they had found it, but also that the blast had seemingly buried them under the depository itself. It made him dizzy to think about.

The storeroom was large, roughly the size of a small shuttlebay, completely sterile, except for the large, now gaping hole in the floor he had come through. The room was empty with the exception of three containers with Starfleet emblems emblazoned on the side. Smaller and beneath the Starfleet label were bio-hazard insignias.

Chris followed Brower out of the tunnel shortly. He let out a low whistle upon catching sight of the room and its contents. With some difficulty he was able to maneuver out of the hole and hobble over to where Andrew was studying the containers. "Do you see what I see, Andrew?" the doctor asked finally.

Andrew nodded without a word. A conspiracy.

Along one wall ran a computer panel, miraculously it was still active. "Look at this," Chris exclaimed as he went to investigate. "It's like the whole place was just abandoned right in the middle of something."

"Like Pompeii," Brower muttered. Just as they had seen on the surface, everything was left exactly as it had been twenty years ago just prior to the accident. "Don't touch anything."

Logan was being careful, but he was also diligently searching for information--anything he could use to further clear his uncle's name and bring those responsible for this tragedy to justice. Suddenly something caught his eye. "Andrew, come look at this!"

As Brower made his way to the computer panel, he saw Chris straining to read information from the terminal. Suddenly the doctor gasped. "What is it?" Andrew asked urgently.

"This message," he indicated the screen, "is the final authorization from Starfleet Command authorizing Captain Lewis to commence with his tests."

Brower was shocked. It was exactly what they were searching for. "Who is the communiqué signed by?"

Chris couldn't tell. "That part of the file seems to be missing."

"No matter," Andrew told him, "at least there's enough evidence here to clear your uncle... and bring Admiral Lewis to justice. Maybe he'll give up his other co-conspirators on the stand," he sighed hopefully. Wishful thinking.

Chris nodded. "I'd say this is all the proof Captain Sutherland will need to convince Starfleet to mount a full scale investigation." Vindication, after all of these years, yet now it seemed so empty and hollow.

"We'd better find a way back to the ship," Andrew said. "I'd wager there are quicker ways to the surface from here other than climbing through tunnels." Provided the blast hadn't destroyed them.

Amazingly, only when Chris glanced around did he notice the very obvious turbolift door across the room. He looked at Andrew who was looking back in astonishment. "I think we just found our ticket out of here."

Andrew grinned. "With any luck, the shaft will be clear enough for us to get to the top."

·

Only when they had managed to pry open doors to the shaft did Chris and Andrew realize how complicated their task would be. The lift car was several levels above, stranded. After at least an hour climbing and helping each other up did they make it inside the lift. Finally they were able to climb inside and start the car on its ascent.

It was only now that they each realized how truly exhausted they were. Exertion tended to repel itself, Andrew knew, and his body was one which could probably continue indefinitely without a chance to rest, but now was not a time to test that assumption. He leaned against the wall of the turbolift resting his helmet against the wall, barely able to keep his eyes open and remain upright.

As they rode, the idle time left their minds free to grieve for Schyler. Neither of them would freely admit that she could still be alive. The probability against it was too great. But they both had a secret desire to find her waiting with a rescue team when they arrived on the surface. The possibility that she might be alive looped in both of their minds like a holomovie jammed in its player.

Eventually the lift began to slow, and Andrew could tell from the indicators that the car was only a few levels from the top. Suddenly something jarred the car and a horrendous tearing sound could be heard as large metal pieces of the lift were ripped lose. Something had apparently blocked the shaft and caused the car to stop. As quickly as the ride had started, it was over.

After picking themselves up from the floor, Chris and Andrew concentrated on crawling out of the car into the shaft.

They hadn't crawled more than a few meters until they intersected a horizontal tunnel. Using his good arm, Andrew pulled Chris out of the turboshaft and the pair went lunging to the ground in an exhausted heap.

Chris could feel sharp rocks beneath his back, their jagged edges dulled by the fabric of his suit. He hoped the suit would stay intact, but was too exhausted to move off the rocks and sit up. As he laid there, panting, he though he heard voices. At first he thought he was hallucinating, but then something caught his eye. It appeared to be people advancing down the shaft with palm beacons, but he couldn't be sure, as he was on his back causing the scene to be viewed upside down. "Hey," he breathed to Brower.

"I see them!" Andrew said excitedly. With all of his strength he leapt from the ground and broke into a limping run toward the four people advancing on their position. He waved his arms frantically.

As they came closer he could see that three of the men were carrying phaser rifles, the fourth was bound. Andrew's mind raced, trying to understand what was going on. Just as he turned to run back toward Logan he heard a gruff, male voice ordering him to, "Freeze!"

Andrew turned slowly back towards the advancing four, carefully putting his hands in the air. He glanced about frantically trying to see the faces of the people inside the advancing yellow-orange suits, but glare from their palm beacons blinded him.

"Brower?" Chris called from around the bend in the tunnel. "What's going on? Have we been rescued?"

"Not exactly," a booming male voice said from above. Chris barely had time to see the man looming over him before a splitting blow crashed to his skull... and then everything went dark.

The ensign smilled down at his work and was soon joined by two others, now toting Anderson and Brower. Chris was unconscious, but Andrew was able to get a look at the other captive when the men threw them all together in a pile. It was "Schyler," he said with breathless joy. "You're alive..." His eyes met hers briefly before the lieutenant grabbed his suit, hoisting him closer.

"Isn't that sweet?" the man's voice mocked. "But don't get too cozy. You're all about to become history... along with this place," the man told him, only to draw back his gloved fist, delivering a right cross... and Andrew's world went dark as well.

"The Pioneer has arrived in the Terral System and dropped out of warp. They'll arrive in orbit of New Verdor in just over twenty minutes, sir," Thompson reported.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Captain Reynolds. He scanned around the bridge of the Renegade. His people were well-trained and they knew their jobs. They had been doing their best and giving him and the admiral their all, but would it be enough, he wondered. "Time until intercept?"

"Thirty-seven minutes," the Con officer answered.

Reynolds shook his head slowly from side to side. That was too late. And they were already pressing the ship beyond safety tolerances. He slapped his com badge. "Engineering, this is the Captain. Increase speed to warp nine-point-eight-five." The engineer started to protest, but Reynolds cut him off. "I don't want excuses, Commander. Just give me more speed."

It was at times like this Reynolds wondered if they were meant to lose, if the odds were against them. Was it really worth all this secrecy and subterfuge to protect the Federation from foreign enemies? Was the distrust and loss of freedom which would inevitably result from all these covert operations worth the political gain? At times like these he couldn't help but think he was on the wrong side. But it was too late for those thoughts now.

"Captain, at this speed, we'll arrive at New Verdor in approximately twenty-four minutes," the Ops Officer reported.

·

The Pioneer cruised into high orbit around New Verdor. Lanei had been pushing the ship beyond its design limitations to arrive so quickly, but the small craft had help up remarkably well.

As she locked orbital path coordinates into the computer, she began to hail the surface, searching for any signs of Admiral Matheson. It was a complex bit of explaining trying to tell the Verdorian officials who she was looking for and how important the matter was. They didn't seem to share her urgency.

"Apparently, Captain, Matheson is skiing with his family in the mountains on New Verdor's western continent," Lanei explained to Sutherland after a few minutes of her search. "The area is extremely remote and communications devices in the area are rare."

It wasn't a surprise to him really. People went on vacation to get away from the pressures and hassles of life. Taking a communicator and a locator beacon merely defeated that purpose, almost inviting interruption. Had he been vacationing on the pristine, white-powdered slopes of New Verdor's renowned Callal Range, Sutherland would have rendered himself incommunicado as well.

"We didn't come through all of this to get stopped so close to our goal," said Lanei emphatically. "There's got to be some way to contact the admiral."

Time was running out, and Sutherland was becoming increasingly apprehensive about the imminent arrival of the Renegade. He had to think. If he were vacationing on some remote planet and didn't want to be contacted, but still wanted to remain in touch, how would he do it? Then something clicked in his mind. "Lanei, begin searching the surface for any kind of transceiving equipment based on old microwave technology."

"Microwaves?" she asked with a puzzled glance. "A microwave transmitter can't reach more than a few hundred kilometers. We'll never be able to have a two-way conversation from orbit."

It was a long shot, Sutherland knew, but he was gambling Admiral Matheson wouldn't want to stay completely isolated, and would have a back-up plan in case he needed to get in contact with the outside world. Knowing the admiral was a fan of vintage technologies, Sutherland guessed he'd probably use a type of older style radio unit somehow tied into the communications net of New Verdor. "Just begin your search, Lieutenant. If I'm right, Admiral Matheson will have already worked that problem out for us." If he was wrong, they would most likely soon be paying for the erroneous calculation with their lives.

·

"We're entering the outer edge of the Terral System now, Captain," Commander Thompson said.

Reynolds nodded. "Drop to impulse and go to red alert. Bring phasers and photon torpedoes to full power." He knew they would be cutting it close and wanted to minimize any possibility Sutherland would be able to get through to the admiral. "Communications, bring the sub-space antenna on-line and begin jamming all known frequencies as soon as we're within range."

"Got 'em, sir," Thompson said. "The Pioneer is in high equatorial orbit over the planet's western hemisphere. We'll be in weapons range in less than two minutes."

"Begin targeting the weapons and continue on course," Reynolds ordered. "Look sharp, everyone."

·

"I've got it!" Lanei nearly shouted. "I've found an old microwave transceiver located on the western continent! I'm patching through to it now."

Sutherland hurried into the front cabin from the science console. "Put it on screen."

"Just a minute more, sir," Lanei said as she adjusted a few more controls.

Momentarily an image popped onto the viewer. It was fuzzy and filled with static at first, but Lanei cleaned it up as best she could.

The admiral appeared to be standing on a snow white mountain; drifts of white powder stretched as far as the edges of the screen and occasional evergreen trees billowed up from the snow cover.

"Dan, it's good to finally see you," Sutherland said.

The admiral half smiled. "And quite a surprise to see you," Matheson admitted. "I'm on vacation."

"I apologize for that, sir. But we have urgent news which needs your attention."

"One question first," Matheson's disembodied voice asked. "It was my fondness for antiques that gave me away, wasn't it?"

Ordinarily the playful comment would have been cause for Sutherland to grin and engage in a bit of clever repartee with the admiral, but time was of the absolute essence. The Renegade would be arriving any minute.

Just as that thought began to enter Sutherland's mind, the transmission from the surface began to sound distorted and muffled. Quickly it cut out altogether. Lanei began to check the com system, but the captain knew the Renegade and Captain Reynolds were at fault. The ship was most assuredly within jamming range by now. "We've got to go, now," he instructed the science officer, climbing out of his chair and making way for the transporter. "We're beaming to the surface."

They hurriedly gathered what they would need to convince the Matheson of their theories and rushed to the transporter. As the coils were preparing to energize a severe jolt rocked the Pioneer. The Renegade was taking shots at them!

Lanei rushed back to the controls to raise the shields. Suddenly a blinking indicator told her of an incoming hail. "It's Captain Reynolds," she informed. "He's ordering us to lower our shields."

Sutherland nodded. "Put him on, Lieutenant."

On the small viewscreen the agitated visage of Captain Reynolds blinked in surprise, apparently not expecting Sutherland to have answered. "Captain, I must insist that you lower your shields and come with us back to Trilar III so we may conduct a full investigation," Reynolds informed evenly.

While Reynolds was talking to her captain, Lanei caught a glimpse of Sutherland slowly maneuvering his hands across the console. It wasn't long before she noticed that all primary controls of the craft had been transferred to Sutherland's station.

"And if we don't? What then?" Sutherland questioned coolly. "Will you carry out an execution of two Starfleet officers? Because that's what it will be. An execution. Murder."

There was a moment of silence as Reynolds shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Deep inside he knew that would indeed be true, but he struggled to justify it to Sutherland, and himself. "It's not murder, Captain. It's enforcement of a Starfleet directive. You've broken the law and need to be taken in for questioning." His words hung for another moment and the tension grew measurably thicker on the Renegade bridge. He motioned to his tactical officer, instructing him to lock onto the Pioneer, standing by to fire. "Now, Captain, please drop your shields and allow us to take you in tow."

Sutherland's eyes narrowed slightly and his stare locked with Reynolds'. "I'll take it under advisement." Without warning he punched up the impulse engines and steered the Pioneer into a steep dive toward the planet's atmosphere below. Even with the IDF ramped to full, the G-forces were phenomenal. Straining, he clutched for the tactical control, firing a photon directly at the Renegade.

Not expecting the attack, in the resulting confusion the Renegade misfired and swerved wildly while trying to evade the torpedo, allowing Sutherland to maneuver the Pioneer into the atmosphere, making a hard run for the far side of the swirling, cloud-filled planet below.

·

Admiral Matheson startled at the sudden sparkling appearance of Captain Sutherland and his Deltan companion. "Captain," he protested again, "this is my vacation."

"Yes, sir," Sutherland nodded urgently, "but I assure you, I have to speak with you... right now!"

The admiral still did not seem convinced.

"Dan," his eyes pleaded intensely, "would I have trekked all the way to New Verdor, tracked you down, and beamed onto a pile of snow if the situation weren't absolutely dire?" Sutherland questioned gravely.

Matheson looked at the captain. He had known Tobias for a good number of years now, a great many of those spent as friends, and never once had Tobias over-reacted when it came to matters of Starfleet concern. "What is it?"

Hurriedly, Sutherland and Lanei began to impart highlights of the information they had gathered, knowing time was of the essence. They were dealing with rogue officers, and with such individuals, there was no telling what they were capable of.

·

Admiral Matheson stared angrily at the argumentative captain on his old-style, handheld viewer. His patience was wearing very thin. If the information Sutherland had just imparted to him was to be believed, Starfleet would have its work cut out dealing with an internal conspiracy--and the man he was talking to could well be part of that conspiracy. "I'm not sure what is going on here, Captain Reynolds, but intend to find out."

"Admiral," Reynolds continued to insist in his most politely insubordinate tone, "I can assure you that these accusations are completely unfounded, and I--"

"That remains to be seen!" Matheson barked, his impatience now exceeding his abilities to control it. "But in the meantime, I expect your full cooperation with any investigation. You have ten minutes to turn command of your ship over to me and beam to the surface. Matheson out."

·

Minutes later, Captain Rutledge stood on the bridge of his ship, politely taking a verbal lashing from Admiral Lewis via subspace. "I am growing tired of hearing your excuses," Lewis yelled after he had been briefed on the situation developing on New Verdor.

Captain Reynolds had grown tired of giving them, but so far Sutherland and his crew had managed to stay one step of him and his men. Now they had reached Admiral Matheson on the surface. As much of a bitter blow as it might be, they would have to live with the consequences. To him, there was no other conceivable option. They had lost.

"This ends here and now," Lewis chewed out bitterly. "Finish them."

Reynolds paused momentarily, not certain what the admiral was implying, but he had a fairly good idea. He said nothing, only shaking his head slowly from side to side.

Lewis saw Reynold's obedience waning. "Now, Captain!" he demanded, pounding his fist on the desktop angrily. For another tense moment, the com channel was taut with silence.

"Admiral," Reynolds reasoned calmly, "I will not execute another Starfleet officer to continue covering up your bad judgment."

Lewis' eyes widened. "Lieutenant Thompson," the admiral ordered, "power up the photon torpedoes and target the lifesigns on the surface."

Reynolds looked at the viewscreen with final realization that this twenty year ordeal had finally played out to the end. He dropped remorsefully into the command chair, exhausted. He said nothing.

Angrily, Admiral Lewis demanded of the weapons officer in a deadly serious tone, "Lieutenant, we must destroy the subversive enemies who would destroy Federation. Now, carry out my orders. Lock your weapons on the surface lifesigns and fire."

The young officer only stared back, looking half full of regret, and half full of disbelief.

"That is an order!" Lewis shouted. "Follow my instructions, damn you!"

"No, Admiral," Reynolds said quietly. "No more, sir. It's over." He threw a somber glance toward the communications officer. "Close the channel... and secure from red alert. Power the weapons down." Quietly the Renegade stepped back from the brink, veering from it deadly course which would have meant certain death to the officers on the surface of the planet below.

"Admiral, Captain Forrester is receiving a subspace transmission," Vanessa Remington told her superior officer as Lewis emerged from the captain's Ready Room. Her voice was tinged with anger and frustration. Admiral Lewis dropped into the center command seat while Captain Forrester sat in the seat to his left, still relieved of command of his own ship.

"Put it on the viewscreen, Commander," Lewis snapped at her.

Remington hesitated. "It's marked for Captain Forrester's eyes only."

He turned and eyed her with a chilled stare. "Then send it to the conference room," the admiral said reluctantly, nodding to Forrester coolly.

Calmly the Endeavour captain headed off to receive his private transmission.

The entire time Forrester was gone from the command center, tensions among the bridge crew rose. What could this mysterious message contain? Who would emerge victorious from this minor power struggle which had been playing itself out on the bridge of their ship?

Shortly the captain emerged from the conference lounge, his face was somber and ashen, though it hinted at a smile. He approached the center area of the bridge and handed Admiral Lewis a padd. "Admiral, though it gives me to do so, under orders I am hereby charging you with thirteen violations of Federation law and Starfleet policies, and am placing you under arrest."

As the bridge erupted in applause, the captain held up a hand for silence. Quickly he tapped his com badge with urgency, "Forrester to Transporter Room One."

The message was met only with silence. At first, Sutherland began to wonder if a few of Lewis' men hadn't gotten to his transporter chief who had been working to rescue the Avenger survivors on the surface. "Forrester to Lieutenant McKay."

Soon a reply came. "Sorry, Captain," came her panting, feminine voice. She was working against the clock to cut through the interference on the surface to allow the transporter to work. "I'm still working on it. But it should only be a few minutes more."

Hurry, Forrester thought silently. And may the Forces be on your side.

Birds chirping... Chris swore he heard birds chirping. Lazily he pulled open his heavy eyelids and peered around. A sudden throbbing in his temples reminded him there were no birds here. What he did see was a man dressed in a Starfleet bio-suit using some sort of welding device. Then he remembered...

"Chris, are you all right?" Schyler's soft voice was filled with concern.

With a start, Chris jerked his head towards the voice, expecting himself to be imagining it. But she was there. She was real! Instantly his face broke into a smile of undiluted happiness at the sight of her. For that moment, the pain abated miraculously from his battered body, and he felt only her gaze upon him.

She was yanked back from his side roughly by the lieutenant. Angered, Chris tried to jump to her aid, but was rebuked by the butt of the thug's rifle. "Take your hands off of her!" he demanded, enraged.

"Dr. Christopher Logan," a harsh voice behind him intoned. Logan whirled to lock glares with a commander man dressed identically to the other two strangers. "What a sincere pleasure it is to make your acquaintance," Dulles continued. "I waited for you to come to so that we could make certain you died for sure. You understand, I have no margin whatsoever in this."

Chris suddenly found himself staring down the muzzle of a phaser rifle, thanking the heavens he at least would die with the knowledge he had seen Schyler one last time.

Out of the corner of his vision, though, he could see Schyler shift her weigh forward ever so slightly, separating her body a few inches from the lieutenant who held her stiffly. He held his breath deep in anticipation of what was to come next. With a sideways glance, he saw Brower kneeling in a restraint of his own, but he appeared to know what was about to happen.

The few inches of leeway was all Schyler needed; she drew her foot up behind her, slamming it outward in a vicious kick which slammed into the lieutenant's midsection, sending him to the ground. As he fell, his bio-suit caught on a jagged piece of debris. Instantly the alarm in his helmet was wailing, followed shortly by the man's own agonizing screams. Before her eyes the man's flesh seemed to come alive with some type of infectious hives. Then he began gasping violently for breath, and within a few seconds more it was all over. He slumped to the ground, dead.

She had little time to stare in horror at the gruesome sight. The other guards were retaliating. She knelt and grabbed the fallen guard's rifle, firing at the remaining captors.

Neither of them would be caught off guard as easily as the lieutenant. The ensign flew to the ground and rolled, extending his legs and executing a perfect butterfly kick which caught Andrew square in the ribs as he was trying to scramble to cover. Dulles dove on top of Chris and the two men dropped to the ground as one mass of flailing arms and fists. Even wounded the doctor managed to hold his own for several minutes. Eventually, however, the last reserves of his physical strength and infusions of adrenaline were depleted and he became pinned beneath the other man, who now had a choke hold on his throat.

Andrew attempted to recover from the blow he received, but the young ensign was coming at him with more punches landing them right and left. Dazed briefly, he finally dropped and rolled out of the man's reach, picking up loose debris to throw at his attacker.

Dulles, having subdued Logan once more lunged for Schyler in the remaining confusion. Instinctively she jerked backward to get out of his way, but tripped on a loose piece of rock, dropping the phaser rifle. It tumbled away out of reach on the dusty cavern floor. As she turned to strike back, Schyler noticed a shiny object in her assailant's hand. In slow motion it came for her, slicing through the air with a gleaming blade. It was a knife. As the blade made contact with her suit, she could hear Andrew and Chris both yelling, but it sounded distant, as if she were in a fog. Suddenly the poisoned atmosphere of Trilar III was all around her, filling her suit. It burned against her skin and bubbled up inside her helmet. She closed her eyes and waited for the worst, trying to hold her breath as long as possible.

Just then, the dark cavern around them broke apart in a spiral of colorful, tingling molecules...

Andrew stood silently beside the bio-chamber in the Endeavour's sickbay peering mournfully down at Schyler. Her appearance did more to frighten him than anything else he'd seen that day. Her skin was pale and her breathing seemed labored and shallow. She was resting inside a bio-chamber and he now viewed her through a rectangular transparent aluminum window. Small beads of perspiration stood out on the waxen skin of her high brow. One tiny drop broke formation and trickled down the side of her face disappearing into her hairline. The solitary bead's travel provided the only visible movement within the sterile chamber.

Worry creased his brow as he pulled his gaze from her face and found Chris. "Is there any change?" he asked hopefully.

Logan was standing at a medical console monitoring Schyler's vital signs, as he had been for the past several hours. He shook his head, then met Brower's worried glance. "No. There are no signs yet that she is regaining consciousness. The graft of lung tissue has taken, but there are still no signs her lungs are being repaired satisfactorily. Dr. Montgomery is in the lab running tests on the latest tissue samples. I'm sure she'll have more news for us soon."

"The waiting is so difficult," Andrew breathed softly. "I wish there was something I could do to help her."

"Everything medically possible has been done for her, Commander," Logan said, finding it much harder to be on the receiving end of such news. "We just must have faith in Schyler's spirit and determination to bring her through this."

A slight glassiness in Chris' eyes and a wavering in his voice caused Andrew to draw in a deep breath and he lapsed back into silence.

Slowly passing minutes seemed like endless hours until finally the doors of sickbay parted admitting Captain Forrester into the medical suite. Immediately the weight of Brower's heavy frown caused his heart sink. Anderson and Brower had both served under him, and they were like family. "What is Lieutenant Anderson's present condition?" he asked Logan with genuine concern.

"Her condition has stabilized, Captain," Chris answered, trying to sound positive. "It's still too soon to tell what the prognosis might be. We were hoping she might have regained consciousness by now. It would have been an excellent sign and would have made it easier for us to determine her chances of recovering fully."

Forrester nodded. He paused for a few moments before speaking again. "I also wanted to let you know... I just received a communiqué from Captain Sutherland," his tone stayed respectfully low but took on a brightness which had been absent only moments before. "He sends all three of you his regards and wants you to know that all is well with the Avenger. They are making repairs and we will meet them at Starbase 117 in three days."

"Did Admiral Matheson receive our newest information, sir," Brower referred to the computer file he and Logan had found on the surface concerning Admiral Lewis.

Forrester nodded. "Yes, and he's already opened a full inquiry into the whole matter. In fact, a ship has been dispatched to rendezvous with us here. We will brief them before they begin their own inquiry. And Admiral Matheson sent this for you, Doctor," Forrester said, producing a small padd and handing it to Logan.

The padd contained an encrypted file and rapidly Chris tapped in his authorization. As his eyes swept the scrolling data, his face lit up with a bright smile.

Detecting the faintest movement to the periphery, Chris' attention was suddenly drawn away from the portable display back to the console which monitored Schyler's vital signs. He stared intently at the screen in front of him and his smile began to widen. His optimism was guarded at first, then began to swell. "I believe the lieutenant is regaining consciousness," he announced happily.

Dr. Montgomery reentered the room and peered past Chris at the screen.

Schyler felt herself rising to consciousness and struggled against the bonds that held her. "No Schyler," she heard a familiar voice say in soothing tones. "You're all right, relax. We're taking care of you and you're going to be just fine."

The words did calm her but she fought hard to raise her heavy eyelids to see for herself that everything was okay. Schyler knew things had not been all right just a few minutes before. She couldn't seem to remember exactly what had been wrong, but knew she had been in terrible danger and might even have been facing her own mortality. Then a strange thought hit her, perhaps she was dead.

Another voice found her ear. "How is she, Doctor?"

"I would say her chances of a full recovery are excellent, Captain," a woman's friendly voice answered.

Doctor? But Chris is our doctor, where is Chris? Didn't I just hear him? Schyler became very agitated, struggled to full consciousness, and with a mighty effort opened her eyes. The light above her was bright and reflected off something just above her eyes. She squinted hard to make out the faces of the forms surrounding her.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant." It was Chris, and she could hear the smile in his voice. She blinked hard to focus and the smile filtered into view.

"Hi Doctor," she responded weakly. Her voice sounded rough and her throat burned. She looked at the circle of faces above her. Besides Logan, she saw Andrew, a male captain, and a female medical officer. "What's up?" she asked with a slight smile, knowing that her small attempt at humor would reassure her friends.

"We're on board the Endeavour, Schyler," Chris continued. "Captain Forrester just stopped in to check on you and Dr. Montgomery is helping make sure you're fit for duty again in short order."

Dr. Mira Montgomery smiled down at her patient. "I'm going to leave you in Dr. Logan's very capable hands for a little while, Lieutenant, but I'll be back to check on you soon."

"Thank you," Schyler smiled back at the Bajoran woman, then turned to Chris and sobered. "I'm afraid I'm a bit foggy still," she admitted. "What am I being treated for?"

"We've put you in a bio chamber to regenerate some damaged lung tissue. It seems you got a double lung full of the Trilarrian atmosphere. Remember?"

TRILAR III! Yes, it all came back to her now and she was filled with questions. "Where is the Avenger? What happened to those thugs? Did we get the evidence we needed?" she blurted. Then as she took a big breath to continue she began to cough violently.

"Slow down, Lieutenant," Captain Forrester counseled. "We'll fill you in on what we know." He smiled at Brower. "Why don't you brief her, Commander? I should be getting back to the bridge."

"Yes sir," Brower acknowledged. As Forrester left the room, Andrew turned his attention to Schyler. He was pleased to see the brightness in her eyes, the sparkle he had feared he would never see again.

"Well, Lieutenant it seems that those thugs, as you called them, were officers from the Renegade and were under orders from Admiral Lewis to make certain we never made it back from the surface. They didn't want any of the evidence proving the existence of Metagenic weaponry on Trilar III to leave the Forbidden Zone. The surviving two are resting comfortably in the brig."

"But how did they think they could they get away with doing us in like that?" Schyler asked with wide eyes.

"We were going to have an accident," Chris explained. "I'm sure they were quite confident that an accident on a planet in the Forbidden Zone would never be closely investigated. It was all very plausible, given the hazardous surroundings down there."

"And the evidence?" Schyler pressed as she looked eagerly into Logan's eyes. "Did it make it into the right hands? Did it prove that the deaths on Trilar III weren't due to you uncle's negligence?"

"All of that will take time, of course, but Captain Sutherland and Lanei were able to reach Admiral Matheson with the evidence in time. Seems the admiral is a trusted friend of the captain's and has ordered an in depth investigation of the incident and..." Logan paused for emphasis.

"And what?" Schyler asked.

Chris grinned down at her. "...and, Admiral Matheson just sent me a private message telling me he's reopening Uncle Timothy's file." Logan still clutched the padd tightly in his right hand. "From the evidence he's seen so far, he says there should be no delay in clearing his name."

"Chris, that's wonderful!" Schyler cried. "I'm so happy for you."

"Admiral Lewis and the entire Renegade crew are now being detained for questioning and possible court martial," Brower informed. "Someone is going to be held responsible for the carnage on Trilar III. Lewis and his current and former cohorts are the most likely suspects."

"I'm glad they finally got to the bottom of this," Schyler said with satisfaction. Slowly the smile erased from her lips as she surrendered herself to the warmth which was wrapping itself comfortably around her. She waned and her eye lids began to flutter.

"You need to get some rest now, Schyler," Chris told her softly. "We've caught you up on all the news, so just relax now and try to get some sleep."

"I am a little tired," she mumbled, now nearly asleep.

"We'll be here when you wake up," Andrew assured tenderly, not certain if she was still cognizant enough to hear him.

Both men turned and walked down the short corridor towards the medical lounge. They poured themselves cups of steaming black coffee and sat down table opposite each other at the room's small table. They sat in silence for a few minutes, reflecting on their eventful day.

"Our Lieutenant Anderson certainly does like to keep things interesting, doesn't she?" Brower quipped at last.

Logan shook his head from side to side and sighed. "Yes, two close calls in the same day is a bit much though, even for her. It's a miracle she's alive, much less making a full and rapid recovery."

Andrew nodded. "Yes, we were all very lucky," he referred to the brace on Logan's leg and the magnetic splint on his own arm. He sat silently staring down at his coffee cup for several moments longer, then began to speak again softly. "Today's events are causing me to reevaluate my feelings for Schyler." His eyes met Logan's. "How does that make you feel, Chris?" he asked seriously.

Logan swallowed hard. "I think I have always known, from the moment you and I met, you were still carrying a small torch for her."

Andrew arched one eyebrow, amazed. "You have?"

He nodded. "It was more a feeling than anything you've ever said."

"I see." It was odd, the sort of triangle which had suddenly developed between these three close friends. "Things do get complicated sometimes, don't they?" Andrew mused.

"Schyler is a special person. I can understand your interest, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to step aside. She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

A slow grin crept across Brower's face. "No, Chris, I wasn't asking you to step aside. I just wanted to let you know what I was thinking. I value your friendship... and your counsel."

Both men fell into a comfortable silence. The one unspoken obstacle between them was now out in the open and even though it was not resolved, it was now mutually understood.

Andrew's thoughts were drifting, now a thousand light years away. "I only hope Schyler was right," he observed finally.

Chris sipped at his hot coffee gingerly, stirred from his own pensive brewding. "Hmmm? Right about what?"

"I hope we have gotten to the bottom of all this. There is a lot of doubt in my mind about how deep this Metagenics conspiracy may have dug itself into the upper echelons of Starfleet Command."

Chris paused and stared at his friend. "That's a very unsettling thought," he breathed. "But it is something I have thought about myself." He looked down into the swirling brown patterns of liquid remaining in his cup thoughtfully. "Just before he died, Dr. Pendleton mentioned a woman in Starfleet who was involved in this whole mess."

Brower already knew where Chris was headed with his reasoning. "I've had my doubts about Admiral Hewlitt myself. But so far we don't have any proof against her."

"It's unfortunate. If she was involved, she's getting out of this whole thing unscathed... unless Lewis turns against her at his court martial."

"I know," Andrew agreed reticently.

"I guess we'll have to keep our eyes open. It will be difficult to know who to rely on and who to trust," Chris lamented. He was quiet a moment, but his voice was lighter when he spoke again. "At least we've got our crew, Andrew. There's not one of them I wouldn't trust with my life if the chips were down. And I'm certain the rest of the crew feels the same way."

Andrew's lips drew up into a slight smile as he realized the point the doctor was trying to make. The Avenger crew was a tight knit unit. They worked hard and took care of each other, and after all they just had been through, he now felt like one of them. He nodded serenely at his friend and a feeling of warmth and acceptance over took him. "Yes Doctor, I agree. It's good to know we can always rely on our crew."