EP2 ACT 2



HELUB SPACE PORT

"She's coming around.."

"Finally.."

"Wha..?" Commodore Jackson's mouth was dry. But her hair it seemed was not. Water was being applied to a head wound that began to smart as she opened her eyes and looked around through the dim and dusty air.

She was being cradled by Lt Commander Leonard on one side and a Vekarian woman on the other. Another Vekarian was sponging cold water into her hair. Streaks of watery blood had already stained her face, neck and uniform. She smacked her commbadge.

"Jackson to Ops, Commander Inaami, please respond!" An awful feeling was welling up inside her.

"We tried, there's no response," said Leonard, softly. "From anyone. Most of the levels above us have been flattened."

Jackson pouted and rudely tugged away from Leonard's embrace. "Damn you, I should have been there." She scolded herself - she should have been in Ops at such a delicate time, not down here sorting out the likes of Lt Cmmdr Leonard. If it hadn't been for him, she thought...

Jackson's mind raced, thoughts of Inaami, her other colleagues and her son, all caught up in this mayhem somewhere. The rest of her body began to feel pain - bruised legs and arms, her cheek where she must have inadvertently bitten it. A figure blocked her light, and crouched to face her. A Human woman in her early twenties, blood on her face, hair singed. She was cradling a newborn baby and Jackson then noticed the high proportion of women and children present.

"Commodore," the woman's accent was a toothy, Southern drawl, "what are we going to do?"

Jackson looked up at the crowds who surrounded her, with sudden realisation that they were all looking to her as the person who would know what to do. As a Command officer, Louise Jackson was used to making big decisions, and taking responsibility for others. But nearly always it was within the framework of Starfleet and Federation regulations - rarely without the support of Starfleet Command or the back-up of the Ships of the Fleet or the local authorities.

As Base Commander on Ferengi, and again on Cromis Prime, she had faced difficulties in dealing with alien cultures - even conflict in the latter case. But responsibility for many civilians in such a desperate situation as this was a new thing altogether. As her roaming gaze landed upon a group of children, huddled around the athletic Starfleet nurse of her son's acquaintance, most of them balling their eyes out and crying for their absent mommy, she told herself to stop thinking and start acting.

"Nurse!" she called out to Lieutenant O'Hara. "There are many injured here, you know the drill. Use whatever means necessary to treat them."

"Yes, Commodore," O'Hara disliked being referred to as a nurse. Technically, that was what she was, having completed only two thirds of her MD training. Starfleet nurses were well respected, it was true, but as a field medic in the Marines she had been regarded as a lesser soldier by her peers and even now, though recently promoted to Lieutenant, she felt 'nurse' didn't quite capture her true abilities.

"Listen! Everyone listen!" Jackson bellowed. She leaned on Leonard to stand. The groaning and murmuring quietened. In her raised position, Jackson could see further down the long, wide corridor they had gathered in. It was a mess. Smoke and the smell of burning pervaded her senses.

Thankfully the structure above was holding off what must have been many levels of debris - unless of course the sections had been exposed to space or the environment system had failed and on the other side of the ceiling above there was nothing but vacuum.

"You're probably aware there has been a military attack on the space port. Please try to remain calm, I'll do my best to find out what's going on. It might take a while, so in the meantime, please be patient and co-operate with the Starfleet officers. For now we should try and find a way down to the lower levels - if the Vekarians could please lead the way."

As she finished speaking, O'Hara was standing beside her, flushed but calm. "Aside from my injured colleague over there, I can find any other medics. In fact, I can't even find any other Starfleet personnel."

Jackson glanced around the gloom - it was true, she could see no uniforms - of any kind. "Ask the civilians, then. Some may have medical training."

O'Hara nodded and turned to walk away. Movement caught her eye to her left - an Orion woman, supporting a hopping security officer.

"Looks worse than it is, Ensign," she said after a quick scan of her tricorder, "I'm afraid I can't spare any painkillers, I only have a limited medkit." Souveson nodded and gripped on to the appalled Orion.

"This should seal the wound and repair the most damaged tissue," O'Hara used her small tools with ease. "It'll be painful for the next day or so."

The Orion woman, seemingly annoyed at not even being addressed, aided the short woman in her first few repaired steps, then released her and snuck away as the Ensign sidled up to the Commodore.

Jackson, patiently gleaning information from the civilians who had arrived with stories of horror, heard a small "Ahem" behind her and turned. Leonard.

Halo-d by a crimson light, Jackson suddenly noted how attractive the man was, albeit rigidly angular.

"I'm told the docking ports were heavily targeted. Emergency bulkheads have sealed them off, though by the sounds of it there wouldn't be any ships left even if we could get through."

"There's been no word from the government or the K'Tani, though some people said they saw K'Tani troop ships landing in the less damaged areas," Leonard reported.

Jackson frowned. "We need to get some order around here. Make our way to the Federation medical facility for a start-" she was rudely interrupted by Leonard's frantically shaking head. "What?"

"Commodore," Leonard moved close to her ear and dropped his voice, "with all due respect, there could be further attacks on the way. And with foot soldiers coming to round us up, I think we need to act fast to find a way off Helub."

"With all these people?" Jackson couldn't be sure, but decided there were hundreds here, and those were only the ones she could eyeball. "Besides, I just told you there are no ships."

"I think I might know of one," Leonard said, and fumbled in his uniform for his personal Padd.

***

"Could you please hurry it up?" Christian shouted.

"Quiet, willya?! I'm trying to concentrate here," Rebbik shouted back at the man. They both concentrated on the long, precarious looking grabber arm protruding from the front of the Pod. Hovering half way up the tunnel wall, they were attempting to use the arm to open a manual override panel and drop the bulkhead doors. A plasma fire was now raging in the tunnels they had come from. The folks on board the Vulcan shuttle had advised them that this massive internal bulkhead door would buy them a good deal of time, only they hadn't expected it to take this long, such were the colourful protests of the Pod's owner and pilot.

Finally, after much lip-tonguing, the arm hit the lock grip, twisted and opened the panel. Rebbik clicked his fingers at Christian. "Your bi-knockers."

Christian slapped them into his hand. "It's pronounced bi-noculars."

"Yeah, yeah," with one hand Rebbik focussed the device onto the panel and located the emergency button, with the other he rotated the grabber arm around to its thin probe rod and eased it forward. A breath later the warm orange warning light began to flash. Slowly, the half-metre thick bulkhead plate rolled up out of the under-housing and silently locked into place.

"Good work," Christian smiled.

"Captain," it was the English voice over the hail again, "there's a marina dock about three hundred metres along this sub-transit wall. It backs onto the underside of the area below the old Fortress."

"Let's go then," Rebbik replied. He flashed a look at Christian, who looked strangely sad. "What's wrong?"

"The tunnel hits a dead end further on," he said.

Rebbik didn't understand. "So? We're not going that far."

"True, but that was our only way out," Christian thumbed at the sealed bulkhead. "Once we're moored, we won't be leaving."

Rebbik's face dropped. "Aw, no. This ain't happening to me, dammit." He slammed the wall, then his chair, and then kicked violently, causing his ponytail to finally give up and collapse about his shoulders.

* * *

Once moored in the empty and poorly lit marina, Rebbik was busy thrusting useless belongings into a number of designer bags. Christian thought about leaving his own holdall behind, but then decided for the moment it could come a bit further - he could always ditch it later on if need be. Christian popped the airlock door open and jumped down onto the generous walkway. The air felt warm and smelled of burnt rubber. As he walked around the oval-shaped marina, nine figures emerged from the side airlock of the Vulcan shuttle - including several almost naked males. 'Interesting,' thought Christian.

"Rebbik, come on!" Christian urged over his shoulder.

"Just a minute, please!" whined Rebbik half angry, half pleading. "This is my whole life I'm leaving behind here."

"It looks like you're planning to bring it all with you," Christian quipped.

"Just a few essentials, that's all," Rebbik heaved at the overladen bags and emerged from the Pod looking like an overworked bell boy. He stopped on the steps and looked lovingly back inside. "You'll never know the hardship behind my getting this baby.." he caressed the ship, slightly tearful.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? But I didn't exactly plan on this either," Christian was in no mood for sentiment. Already in his mind's eye he had seen the ghosts from the wreck of the Firefly, all the smiling faces and names he'd scanned on his padd. The small but unusual delegation approached him; at the head of the party, a portly 30 something tall, broad man with receding hair, and what looked like a shimmering environment shield active about his body.

Christian wondered if the man had a communicable disease, or was too sensitive for normal Human environments. He wore a white sweater under his grey/black uniform and his commbadge had a red slash across it - this was clearly Yeoman Lirik of the Diplomatic Corps who had been speaking to them.

"Yeoman," Christian outstretched a hand, then hesitated.

"Captain," the Yeoman smiled and then turned expectantly to Reb, brows raised.

"Er, the name's Rebbik," the renegade replied as the Yeoman too-obviously looked at all the luggage he was heaving.

"Planning on staying a while, mister Rebbik?" the Yeoman joked.

"Not if I can help it," Rebbik frowned.

"That's the spirit," the Yeoman beamed. He was coming across as eccentric, almost a pre-requisite for the Diplomatic corps, Christian mused. He wondered at the rudeness of not taking his proferred handshake, then thought it must be for whatever reason he was wearing the environment shield. The Yeoman gestured to the people behind him. "This is Andorian Ambassador Narli, Professor Karnak of the Vulcan Science Academy and her staff."

Christian's heart almost skipped a beat. The woman was stunning and reminded him of someone once very close to his heart - though the Professor was clearly not Vulcan, despite her trappings. "Ambassador. Professor." Christian swallowed his thoughts, focusing on the matter at hand. "You know the wormhole is gone?"

Lirik nodded. "From what we saw the Fleet weren't holding out too well."

"Troops are already landing," the Captain said. "By the looks of it, we'll be lucky to get out of this mess with our lives." Christian saw that Rebbik had turned pale green.

"Well, with the wormhole gone, there's little hope of a rescue." Narli observed. "We should all get used to the idea that we're stuck here in hostile territory."

"I wouldn't argue with that, Ambassador," Lirik said, and Christian wasn't sure if it was sarcasm.

"What do you suggest our immediate action should be?" Professor Karnak asked, her accent indeterminate Meditteranean or Middle Eastern.

"We should proceed directly to the Federation complex," Lirik said before Christian had a chance. "Captain, you should know that with the exception of Ambassador Narli here, all the other delegates attending the trade conference were brought here to Helub in secret last night."

"Then the Qovakians knew of the imminent K'Tani attack?" Rebbik uttered his first sensible suggestion to Christian's mind.

"Perhaps, though I suspect it was someone else who found out and tipped the Qovakians off," Narli said, and Christian noticed Lirik's jaw drop.

"What do you mean by that?" Lirik enquired.

"I think you know who I'm talking about," Narli hinted, though Christian was confused by the exchange.

"Ohhh..." Lirik replied in wide-eyed realisation. Christian was more annoyed than baffled at the innuendo and secrecy underlying the spoken words - typical diplomatic fluff, in his opinion.

"We had better get moving. Yeoman, if you could lead the way," Christian drew a phaser.

To his surprise, both Lirik and Narli reached beneath their clothes and also drew weapons.

"Certainly," was all Lirik said with a vague smile, as he took the point and led them into the dimly lit passage beyond the marina.

***

Souveson was familiar with the pain in her leg as she climbed over the twisted staircase and hauled herself into the corridor level above. Jackson had remained with O'Hara and those too injured to be moved while the Ensign and Leonard had followed the Vekarians into the depths of the space port.

Surprisingly, only several levels below, after a sluggish journey through long access shafts and down emergency stairwells, there appeared to be full power and little evidence of the carnage above. They found only a few people en route, none of whom seemed any wiser about what was taking place above them. Most Vekarians, it seemed, had fled toward the docking areas just prior to the attack; emergency bulkheads had then dropped and sealed, cutting off any hope of retreat.

Leonard had assembled the hundreds of survivors in a wide transfer area around a couple of cargo elevators, and was preparing to take them in batches to the lowest level of the port. He had explained there were transit tubes located there which ran under the moon for hundreds of kilometres, a network which linked the port to several remote buildings, one of which contained a ship that he said could aid in their escape.

Upon hearing this, the three Klingons had immediately pushed their way forward and entered into a verbal fracas with the engineer, talking of his cowardice and how they should rather be regrouping in order to fight off the massing invasion force above. Some of the other civilians had chimed in similar accusations while others expressed concern over wasting time. A heated debate ensued. Souveson had taken the paused opportunity to return to the Commodore who had beeen assisting O'Hara in the absence of anyone with sufficient medical knowledge. It was Souveson's intention and duty to ensure that the Commodore return with her to the escapees gathered below. Some partners and family members to the injured had also remained with the Commodore, but there were far too many casualties for the inexperienced few to cope with.

In fact, approaching Jackson, she noticed more than a few now were covered over with items of clothing, having lost the battle for life.

Souveson coughed gently. "Excuse me Commodore, all civilians are safe several levels below. There's power there, and full life support." O'Hara raised her head. "I'm afraid we found no medics or medical facilities." O'Hara didn't respond, impassively returning to treating a nasty head wound.

"Any news as to what's going on up there?" Jackson asked, rubbing her sore eyes.

Souveson hung her head. "No, Sir, but we found an internal public information screen broadcasting images of the port," she lowered her voice. "Commodore, I doubt there are many survivors in the upper levels. And from what we saw, the invasion forces have indeed already landed." The young Canadian recalled the nightmarish images of the pitted surface of the port with the hefty, multi-pronged alien vessels strategically positioned every few kilometres or so amid the debris. She had tried in vain to access communications through the same terminal.

Without warning, as Souveson waited for Jackson to give her next order, a crashing sound to their right caused all those conscious and capable of movement to jump. Souveson reached for her phaser, but she panicked to find it had gone. She and Jackson waited in trepidation for the dust cloud to dissipate. The Ensign's heart was pounding, wondering if the invasion forces had already reached them.

Thankfully a handsome Human male with four pips on his command sweater emerged, hair tossled and uniform scorched, torn and dirty. Another humanoid male, with a shimmering Starfleet uniform followed, along with a Human woman in Vulcan clothes, a half-Human/half- Ferengi, an Andorian and a group of nearly naked, burly Vulcan males.

"Captain Christian, isn't it?" Jackson said, amazed. "I recognise you from your transfer file."

"Commodore," Christian looked at the dozens of people strewn about the floor. "Where are your staff?"

***

After Jackson had brought the group up to speed, Christian began to get worried.

"With all due respect, Commodore, I think Commander Leonard is right. We should join the others below immediately," Christian noticed Rebbik, who had remained silent, (and carrying only two bags now), was nodding in furious agreement. "If there's an opportunity of getting the civilians away from Vekaria, we should take it."

A scolding voice rang out from the shadows. "We can't just abandon these people here, Captain." The mid-Atlantic accent denoted O'Hara who had been briefly introduced on his arrival.

"Lieutenant," Christian's tone was plain and authoritarian, "you'll do as ordered."

To his surprise, O'Hara suddenly strode toward him. She was a couple of inches higher than him, and her freckled, flame hair framed face uncomfortably close to his as she spoke.

"Look, I don't know what tight-assed whizz-kid command training you've had, CaptainSir, but in my Starfleet it's my duty as a medical officer to take care of these people and I won't-" her speech was interrupted by a firm grip on her shoulder.

"That's enough, Nurse!" Jackson spun the tall woman toward her, something in the back of her mind asking what her son had seen in this firey woman. Jackson's booming voice had clearly had the desired effect as the Lieutenant was still open-mouthed. "The Captain and I know only too well the purpose of the Hypocratic Oath and all the responsibilities that go with it. But you are first and foremost a Starfleet officer, Mister. And frankly, you're the only medic we have. We need you with us."

A young Bolian man, tear-stained, came up behind O'Hara. "No, you're wrong. These people need her help. You can't just turn your backs on them. My best friend," he glanced over to an unmoving Bolian female, "she's in a bad way. Don't desert her, I beg of you."

Before Christian could reply, from her nearby makeshift cot, Crewman Lee beat him to it. "Sir, I know how you feel," she smiled. "But, I mean, look at me. I'm hardly in a fit state to go anywhere now, am I? None of these people are." Lee turned to O'Hara, fixing her gaze on the Lieutenant's welling eyes. "It's just the way it is. Surely, if the people down there, all those children we were caring for ... have any chance of survival, they're going to need you with them. And the Captain, and the Commodore."

"Lee," O'Hara dropped to the younger woman's bedside, "you're asking me to leave you here to be captured. Or worse."

Lee was shaking her head. "We're out of options. At least you - and the others - have a chance to help all the civilians below. Have a fighting chance to get away. Who knows, maybe you'll even get word of our plight to the Federation and come back with the rest of the Fleet."

O'Hara, in her previous role as a marine, had been forced to leave her comrades behind before. But in those circumstances, she was secure in the thought that they, like her, had known the risks involved. It was the same for Lee, yet the thought of leaving these badly wounded 'civvies' to just die or suffer at the hands of the invaders - it was too unprincipled. Too cold.

"Mary, you know I'm right," Lee almost whispered.

O'Hara bit her lip and stood. Facing Christian, with a passionate scowl, she noticed the firearms Lirik and Narli carried. "At least leave them with a means to defend themselves."

"There would be no point," Narli said coldly. "Arming them may only cause their demise."

O'Hara half cried and half laughed at the response, but Lee's weak grip on her ankle steadied her from socking the Ambassador.

Lirik was appalled at his former comrade's attitude, but not surprised. Narli was Andorian after all. "I should stay," Lirik was surprised at his own words. "My duty is with the Federation delegates."

"They could be anywhere by now," Jackson said. "You're coming with us." Christian noted that the diplomat didn't argue.

"Okay, let's move out," Christian slapped Reb on the arm, jolting him. "Anyone not wishing to stay ... please, make your goodbyes brief."

The words almost choked Jackson and some of the others - although not the scientist or her crew, of course. Most of the civilians elected to remain with their loved ones. O'Hara kissed Lee on the forehead and whispered: "I'll be back for you crewman. That's a promise."

Lee just smiled and mouthed 'good luck' as the troupe, with just a couple of civilians, disappeared out of sight to the levels below.

* * *

ACT 3