Chapter Text

VII – Disturbance

Lif Culsten was starting to get used to the idea of trading in his post at the helm for the much more comfortable seat at the center of the bridge.

With most of the senior officers having left Eagle, he had been given temporary command of the ship. And while he cherished the opportunity to be in charge, he could not deny that it felt somewhat isolating sitting in the command area all by himself.

The bridge was not empty of course. Lance Stanmore was overseeing operations, Srena had the flight control console, and behind him, Trinik, the Vulcan beta-shift tactical officer kept a vigilant eye on Eagle’s defensive systems.

And yet this felt very different to commanding the night shift. This time no senior officer was available to take over at a moment’s notice and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat anxious about doing this without a safety net. He made sure not to show his anxiety. After all, this was his chance to prepare for what he hoped would one day be second nature to him. And captains did not get anxious when they sat in the center seat. Or at least they knew well how to hide such weaknesses from their crew.

The forward turbo-lift doors opened and Doctor Ashley Wenera strode onto the bridge, distracting him from his current train of thought.

“Doc?”

The raven-locked physician approached the command area at the center of the bridge.

            “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” he said and left his chair. Wenera didn’t venture out of sickbay much and rarely made the trip up to the bridge.

            She glanced at the viewscreen where she was rewarded with the sight of the crimson-colored planet Eagle was currently orbiting. “I just thought you might like some company up here,” she said with a smile as she turned back to face him again.

            He pointed at the chair to his left which was reserved for visiting officers just like the doctor. “I was under the impression you were working on a very sensitive experiment,” he said as they both sat.

            She grinned sheepishly.

            “Don’t tell me you only pretended to be working on an experiment to avoid having to join the others.”

            “Of course not,” she said with feigned discomposure. “I’m still working on cultivating Alterian dry moss. It’s just that I may have overestimated the personal attention the experiment would require.”

            “Overestimated?”

            “Just by a bit,” she said and then turned back to look at the large viewscreen. “With some spare time on my hands, I thought it would be a good idea to start getting more involved with ship operations.”

            He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think there’s much to get involved with at the moment. We’re not really doing anything.”

            But her enthusiasm was not restrained that easily. “What’s our current status?” she said. When she realized how brisk her question had come out, she offered an apologetic look. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

            Culsten just smiled, taking no offense. On the contrary, he was quite amused. He knew that the good doctor was quite inquisitive by nature but he could not recall the last time she had shown any interest in ship operations. “All senior officers except for you are currently on Epsilon Twelve.”

             “From what I’ve heard Commander Leva didn’t leave the ship either.”

            “Really?” he said, not having been briefed on that situation. “I heard something went down earlier today in the Nest.”

            She nodded. “He got into a heated argument with our Klingon guest. And they didn’t argue just with words if you catch my drift. I’ve seen the outcome first hand,” she said and shook her head.  “Not pretty.”

            “I can’t believe Leva would do that.”

            “Oh yes,” she continued. “And from what I’ve been told, he instigated the whole thing. I can’t imagine what’s come over him.”

            “He hasn’t been himself over the last few weeks,” he said in a hushed tone and without looking at anyone in particular.

            “In any case,” she said. “Edison has relieved him of duty. We can only guess what will happen to him once he and the captain come back.”

            He nodded slowly. He couldn’t claim that he was as close to the half-Romulan as somebody like Nora Laas but he did consider him a friend nevertheless. There weren’t many people on Eagle he did not get along with. Culsten prided himself on his chameleon-like quality to blend in with whichever crowd he joined. He had spent plenty of time with Leva since they had started serving together and very little had ever given him reason to believe that he was capable of being easily provoked.

            Wenera was ready to move on to a different subject. “How is the debarkation going?”

            He needed a moment to shift his thoughts. “Slowly.”

            “Why is that?”

            “Believe it or not, Agent Tren who has been overlooking the entire process is not allowing anyone other than the senior staff to even put one foot on that planet,” he said gesturing at the viewscreen.

            She followed his glance. “Any idea why?”

            He shrugged. “Who knows what they’re doing down there? All I know is that with the limitations she has put in place, we’re going to be here a lot longer than we thought we would. Transporters are inefficient as well due to some form of interference and so we now rely almost entirely on the few cargo shuttles that have been cleared by Tren.”

            “It all sounds so very mysterious, doesn’t it?” she said.

            They exchanged a brief look of shared pain. Two years earlier the two of them had been involved in a mystery of their own and their attempts at trying to unravel it had led to disastrous consequences. He didn’t like to be reminded of that episode and the look crossing her face gave proof that she didn’t wish to linger on the subject either.

             “It’s different this time around,” he said after a moment.

            She gave him a puzzled expression.

            “Even if we wanted to there’s nobody around we could report to. At the moment we are the ultimate authority on this ship.”

            Srena who had clearly overheard some of their conversation swiveled her chair around to face her two superior officers. “Now that is a scary thought,” she said with a sly grin.

*          *          *

The ship’s designation was United Starship Eagle and its registry read as NCC-74329. It was a Starfleet Nebula-class vessel and had been rated by intelligence as a level-four threat. And while Starfleet had officially classified the vessel a deep-space explorer, it was easily one of the Federation’s most powerful weapon platforms, particularly in its present state, configured with a tactical pod on top of its large, elliptical saucer section, and as such posed a significant risk to Dominion supremacy.

            It was without doubt a direct threat to the success of their mission and a thorn in Teleka’clan’s side. The most frustrating part of this situation was the fact that the Federation starship was still entirely unaware of their presence as it sat vulnerably in the planet’s orbit, entirely unprepared for an attack.

            The Jem’Hadar warrior studied the gray vessels intently through his head-mounted viewer as if he could spot a weakness just by studying the ship’s exterior. A weakness he knew wasn’t necessary. He had at his disposal more than enough firepower to obliterate two Nebula-class ships. He itched at the chance to unleash that power and remove this unsightly sore. But he could do no such thing.

            “What are the chances that the Federation ship will detect us?” Wegnour, the Vorta and mission commander wanted to know.

            “Diminutive,” he said. “To positively identify us they would need to initiate a high-power EM scan of our exact location. There is nothing in our history with the Federation that would support that they would initiate such a measure under the current circumstances.”

            The Vorta, who was the only other person in the command center to also wear the optical viewer over his eye that allowed him a visual external feed, nodded with satisfaction. “Good. Very good.”

            “However,” Teleka’clan continued. “The longer the vessel remains in orbit the more the chances of us staying undetected will decrease.”

            “Naturally,” Wegnour said with a dismissive hand gesture aimed at the commanding Jem’Hadar, demonstrating how little he respected the other man’s concerns. Like most Vorta, he barely thought of the Jem’Hadar as men at all. As far as he was concerned, they were instruments, perfect for combat, the role for which they had been designed but entirely inadequate for anything beyond that specific function.

            “If I may make a suggestion,” Teleka’clan said, addressing the Vorta’s back as Wegnor did not seem to deem it necessary to give his instrument any special attention. “We could easily engage and destroy the enemy vessel with a minimal chance of suffering significant damage.”

            “You do not understand the intricacies of this mission, First Teleka’clan. I do,” he said and then decided to face the soldier, giving him a look not too far removed from that a parent would give to his young child, knowing that he would not be able to fully grasp sophisticated concepts. “There is a certain subtlety required here that is not compatible with your tiresomely obstinate ways.”

            Teleka’clan took a defiant step toward Wegnour, standing up straighter to give him a more imposing appearance. This had not been the first time he had been insulted by a Vorta but this one had made it a special point to continuously remind him of his superiority. Teleka’clan would never openly defy the Vorta or even consider the possibility of using violence to change his attitude. But he hoped that perhaps a show of strength would have Wegnour be more careful of his choice of words in the future.

            Those hopes would prove to go unanswered when the Vorta began to snicker at the Jem’Hadar’s attitude. He knew as well as Teleka’clan that the Jem’Hadar genetic make-up would never allow him to turn against him.

            One of the soldiers operating a computer console turned to face Wegnour. “We have just detected transporter activity from the starship in orbit to the base on the surface. At least five life forms perhaps more.”

            The Vorta nodded slowly as if he had been awaiting this report. His self-satisfying smile disappeared. “First, prepare for stage one of the operation,” he said but stopped before continuing. Something on his eye screen had startled him. He recomposed himself within seconds. “Clear the room.”

            Teleka’clan did not understand where this sudden transformation had come from as his own screen had not changed.

            “Now,” he said more urgently.

            The Jem’Hadar First did not hesitate again. He gestured for his soldiers to leave. When he looked over his shoulder one more time, he found Wegnour standing entirely still as if he was trying hard to concentrate on what he was about to do. Teleka’clan was the last to leave the command center.

            Wegnour turned slowly to make sure he was alone before he tapped a small control at the side of the tiny screen positioned in front of his eye.

            The image changed to a person the Vorta immediately recognized. His entire body stiffened as he felt an enormous sense of bliss wash over him.

            “Founder,” he said with the reverence befitting a god. “Everything is as you have predicted. I stand ready to execute your every wish.”

            “It is essential that you do not target the Federation vessel until I give you the order.”

            “I understand.”

            “Once I have what I require, destroy them.”

*          *          *

“I really hope the current state of affairs is not as bleak as you have made it out to be,” Captain Zalak to his dinner companions.

            Owens thought that he had spared the Bolian the worst news he had received relating to the Federation’s deteriorating war effort. He had tried hard not to directly imply what he knew in his heart to be true. The Federation was losing.

            Zalak seemed poorly informed about what was happening at the far-removed front lines and it had been up to Eagle’s officers to bring him up to speed. He had eagerly absorbed all the information they were willing to provide.

            “The Federation has endured much adversity since its founding,” Deen said as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “No matter how discouraging and challenging our current situation, we have a great many bright, smart, and brave people all over the galaxy who will make sure that we’ll endure.”

            Owens smiled at her optimism. He even felt somewhat envious of her can-do spirit. “It is in our nature to fight for survival, and to succeed,” he said, trying to mirror the sentiment.

            Zalak nodded. “Survival should certainly be our priority. The question is by which means we’ll achieve it. From what I know about the Dominion, they’re not interested in genocide or acquiring more territory but in exercising control and bringing order and stability to the cosmos.”

            “You mean their order,” said Nora.

            “You said it yourself,” Zalak said and looked at Deen. “The Federation has seen a lot of conflicts over the last centuries. So has the entire quadrant. Imagine a universe controlled by one central power. It would mean the end to conflict. An end to war.”

            “An interesting way to look at the issue,” Xylion said and took a small sip from his beverage.

            “Consider the way the Federation was founded. Bringing together and unifying a large number of entirely different worlds and people to form one powerful union.”

            “Your argument fails to take into consideration that the Federation is the result of a voluntary coalition. No wars were fought to bring its members together and no totalitarian power is exercised to maintain order. The Dominion on the other hand seems to believe that order can only be achieved by fear and violence,” said Xylion.

            Zalak raised a fork to emphasize his next point. “Well perhaps in that case we really have to choose between freedom and peace.”

            “Why is that always the choice?” said Louise Hopkins with a sheepish smile and picked up the last remaining red-colored peas from her plate. “Why can we not have both in equal measure?”

            Edison couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

            The loud hissing sound of the heavy doors parting interrupted the conversation. All heads turned to see Jana Tren enter the room. She had exchanged her business suit for a more utilitarian jumpsuit. Owens couldn’t help but notice how well it hugged her curves. He knew he could not allow himself those thoughts, especially considering Tren’s telepathic abilities. He tried to force them out of his head and quickly left his seat. The other male officers followed suit.

            “Ah, Agent Tren, I presume,” Zalak said and began to approach the Betazoid. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.” He took her hand and shook it slightly.

            “Captain Zalak, a pleasure meeting you at last. I would have come sooner but work has been murder,” she said with what Owens could clearly tell was not an honest smile.

            He didn’t appreciate how friendly Zalak appeared to be and how much attention he seemed to be giving her. Part of him wanted to jump over the table and separate him from the woman he still felt so strongly about. It was a very small and immature part, of course, or at least that was what he told himself.

            “All the more reason for you to take a seat and join us. I’m sure you could use the break,” Zalak said and pointed at an empty chair next to his.

            “Thank you, Captain,” she said and approached the dinner table.

            “I assume you have met the valiant crew of the starship Eagle,” Zalak said, following her.

            Tren locked eyes with Owens. He held the look just a moment too long and she quickly redirected her focus to the other officers and gave them a small smile. “We have met,” she said and sat at the table. “I didn’t get a chance to express my gratitude for the services you have provided. Hopefully, the disembarkation will be completed soon and we’ll be able to release you.”

            Owens and his officers sat again. “As I told Captain Zalak, there is no need to thank us for doing our job.”

            Tren nodded and turned to the remaining food, trying to decide which ones to sample. In the end, she went for nothing more than a simple salad and water.

            Zalak had placed himself next to her. “We were just having a very stimulating conversation about the war and the very future of the Federation.”

            She nodded. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

            “Not at all,” he said. “Perhaps we could get your view on current affairs.”

            Tren seemed to consider the question for a moment. She didn’t realize that Owens was watching her intently. “I believe if we want to win this war it might become necessary to look at less conventional means to achieve victory.”

            Deen frowned. “What means do you have in mind, if I may ask?”

            Tren took a drink of water. “Whichever necessary, Lieutenant. Certainly, the Dominion doesn’t hesitate to do the same.”

            Nora nodded. “We have to align our strategies to the enemy we face. And this may be the toughest one we’ve ever fought. We knew we wouldn’t get rid of the Cardassians on Bajor by fighting fair.”

            “There are lines we have to be mindful of, no matter what enemy we fight. Certain values define who we are that we must cling to no matter what we do,” Owens said. “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster himself.”

            Zalak’s smile widened. “Yes, one of your famously delightful human philosophers, I believe. Schopenhauer?”

            “Nietzsche,” said Owens.

            “The point is this,” Tren said without looking at anyone in particular. “This was we’re fighting now? We cannot fight it like we have fought wars in the past and expect to win it. And if we cannot win this one, we lose everything, including our precious values. So in my eyes, if it’s between survival and holding on to a set of notions and ideas, well that’s not really a choice at all.”

            Owens eyed her suspiciously. It wasn’t just because he disagreed with her point of view but even more so because he had never heard her talk like that before. The Jana Tren he remembered had been an idealist, even more so than he.  

            “What good are our values if there’s nobody left to uphold them?” Zalak said.

            “What good is survival if it turns us all into the very monsters we tried so hard to defeat?” said Deen.

            The ensuing silence proved that the conversation had reached an impasse.

            A sudden tremor shook the room, causing the silverware and glasses on the table to rattle and the lights in the room to flicker. It ended as quickly as it had started.

            Nora had jumped onto her feet as soon as it had started. “What was that?”

            Zalak also stood. “We’ve been having a few problems with the power generators lately,” he said calmly. “It’s nothing serious but I’ll go and have a look just in case.” He turned for the exit. “I’ll be back shortly. Wouldn’t want to miss out on this stimulating flow of ideas we’ve engaged in,” he added just before he left the room.

            Owens didn’t miss the concern in Tren’s eyes. He got up, rounded the table, and sat next to her. “Are you all right?”

            For a fleeting moment, she looked very much like the young woman he had known back in the day and he had a desperate urge to hold her again. Her expression hardened and the moment passed. “Something is wrong,” she said quietly.

            Owens considered the doors. “I know. The good captain is a bit of a character. But I guess that’s what you get when you’re stationed at the far corner of the galaxy for too long.”

            A small smile crept onto her lips as though she sensed the true nature of his dislike for Zalak. She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

            “Then what?”

            “I should’ve been informed about any problems with the generators.”

            There was another tremor, this one stronger than the one before. Some of the glasses toppled over. The lights flickered again but this time they did not come back on.

            “This is not right,” Nora said as the room had become pitch dark.

            “Everybody remain calm,” said Edison.

            “Emergency lighting should—“ Hopkins didn’t get to finish her sentence as the auxiliary illumination system kicked in, bringing back some light to the room. The crimson-hued glow gave their surroundings a strangely eerie appearance.

            Tren stood and within seconds nobody remained in their chairs. She tapped her combadge. “Tren to Captain Zalak.”

            There was no response.

            Owens tried his. “Away team to Eagle, come in.”

            Again nothing.

            The captain looked at his officers. “Could a power disruption cause us to lose contact with Eagle?”

            “The surface does emanate low-level radiation that may interfere with communications,” Xylion said. “Without the station’s power to amplify com signals, we may be experiencing communication blackouts.”

            Owens turned to Tren and something in her dark eyes told him that she wasn’t all too convinced by that answer.

            “If I had a tricorder,” Xylion said, “I might be able to offer a more comprehensive analysis.”

            “Well, we don’t have any tricorders,” Edison said.

            “Or weapons,” Nora added and headed for the doors only to find that they refused to move for her. “Great,” she said and turned to the others. “We’re trapped. I’m starting to get a really bad feeling about this.”

            “We need to get to the control room, now,” Tren said and joined Nora by the door. She removed a panel and began working on the manual override. She was having little success.

            “What do you think is going on?” he asked her.

            She cursed under her breath when the doors wouldn’t bulge. “I haven’t got the faintest idea,” she said without interrupting her attempts. “But I’d feel much better once we get to the control room,” she added and then looked at Owens. “Can you get this door open?”

            He in turn looked at his chief engineer.

            “I’m on it,” said Hopkins and went to work.

*          *          *

“Shuttlebay two to bridge.”

            It took Culsten a second to realize that it was up to him to answer the call that came over the speakers on the bridge.

            “This is the bridge, go ahead,” he said, making an effort to sound as official as he could.

            “We seem to be having a situation down here.”

            “What is it?” he said, quickly wishing he had phrased that differently.

            “Who am I talking to up there?” the disembodied voice asked with slight irritation.

            “This is Lieutenant Culsten, in command,” he said, making sure to put a special emphasis on the last word.

            “Oh,” was the man’s voice-only reply but then quickly added. “Sorry, sir. The last shuttle from Epsilon Twelve is fifteen minutes overdue. All attempts to contact it have failed.”

            He tried to sort his thoughts, tried to think of what he needed to do in a situation like this and in which order. “Thanks for the report. Bridge out.”

            Wenera who had relocated to the environmental controls station in the aft section of the bridge earlier strode back down the ramp and to the center of the bridge to join him. “What’s going on?”

            He shrugged. “Lieutenant Culsten to Captain Owens.”

            There was no response.

            “Eagle to away team, please come in,” he said and caught himself holding his breath while he awaited an answer that never came.

            He turned to Trinik, standing at his post at the tactical station. “Lieutenant, please try to hail the outpost.”

            He nodded curtly and began to operate his console. A discouraging tone from the station told him that he didn’t have any luck either. “No response.”

            “Keep trying,” Culsten said and then stepped up to the operations console. He could feel his heartbeat pounding slightly faster in his chest. “Lance, sensors?”

            Stanmore, apparently having anticipated the order, was already reading his instruments. “I cannot see anything out of the ordinary. I’m still detecting the outpost and numerous life signs. No, wait,” he stopped himself as new information began scrolling across his screen. “The trithium radiation levels have more than tripled.”

            “What?” He couldn’t believe it. “Bridge to transporter room one. Lock onto our people on the surface and beam them back onboard.”

            For a moment there was nothing but silence.

            “Bridge this is Chief Chow. I cannot establish a lock amidst the interference.”

            “The radiation levels are now five hundred percent above normal,” Stanmore said. “I’m losing sensor contact.”

            Culsten rubbed the palms of his suddenly sweaty hands against his pants before he turned to look at the doctor, still standing behind him.

            “The good news is that trithium radiation, even at those levels, is unlikely to be fatal. But I do suggest that we don’t keep them down there for too long.”

            He nodded and slowly moved back to sit in the chair at the center of the bridge. He needed a moment to think. Without sensors, there was no way to tell what was happening on the outpost and he could not beam the away team out or establish communications with anyone on the surface. His options were severely limited.

            Wenera sat next to him and slightly leaned over. “In a situation like this, I don’t think it would be inappropriate for the commanding officer to ask his crew for help.”

            He looked at her for a moment and then nodded slowly. He cleared his throat. “Does anyone have any suggestions?”

            Srena, sitting at the helm, spoke up first. “What if we decreased our orbit? Would that improve our chances of reestablishing a transporter lock on the away team?”

            Stanmore shook his head. “It is not a matter of distance but intensity,” he said. “With the current radiation levels, we wouldn’t be able to maintain a stable lock even if we hovered ten meters above the target.”

            “It may be possible to boost sensors and transporter emitters to compensate for the radiation,” Trinik said.

            “The power we would need to do that,” said Stanmore, “would fry every single circuitry on this ship.”

            “If we can’t boost our systems,” said Culsten, “is there anything we can do to weaken the radiation from our end?”

            Stanmore seemed to consider that for a moment. “We could attempt to bombard the surface with high-charged photon particles. In theory that would temporarily lower the effects of trithium radiation. But that could take hours.”

            Culsten nodded. “At the moment it seems to be our best bet. Get started.”

            Stanmore acknowledged with a curt nod and stood to head to the aft science station to begin the necessary modifications to initiate the bombardment.

            “It occurs to me that there is one other person on board we might be able to turn to for help,” Wenera said.

            He knew instantly who she was referring to.

*          *          *

“I’m really having a bad feeling about this,” Nora Laas said. She had her arms folded in front of her chest while she watched Louise Hopkins on her knees in front of an access panel next to the door. She had been working for the last five minutes on trying to get the heavy panels to move to allow them to leave the dining room.

            Deen stepped up next to the Bajoran security officer. “You already said that.”

            Nora shot her a sideward glance. “The feeling is getting worse,” she said and turned back towards the doors. “Is this supposed to take this long?”

            Hopkins didn’t turn. “The mechanism seems to have short-circuited when the black-out occurred. It locked the doors in place.”

            “Aren’t the doors supposed to unlock when this happens?”

            Hopkins shrugged. “This outpost might have different security measures in place.”

            Edison who had been listening in on the conversation gave Tren a suspicious look. “That wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

            Tren didn’t seem to pay much attention to Eagle’s first officer. Instead, she kept her eyes intently focused on Hopkins’ efforts to circumvent the door mechanism.

            Owens couldn’t shake the feeling that Nora was absolutely correct. Something was obviously not right here. The events of the past few minutes had been too convenient to be coincidence. He couldn’t help but beginning to regret his now seemingly careless decision to bring his entire senior staff to an unfamiliar outpost.       “Can I have a word with you?” he said as he walked closely past Tren, making it obvious that he wished for her to follow him.

            She did and he led her to the far corner of the room.

            “Your officers don’t like me very much, do they?” she said once she was sure they were out of earshot of the others.

            Owens knew it wasn’t a question. She was Betazoid and even a non-telepath would have been able to pick up the tension between her and some of his officers. “Can you blame them?”

            “I guess not.”

            “I need to know what’s happening here.”

            She glanced back at the door which was keeping them trapped in the dining room. “I know as much as you do.”

            “I doubt that very much.”

            Tren took a step closer to him. “Worst case scenario,” she said in a quiet, almost foreboding tone of voice. “We’re going to be in big trouble. Especially now that I don’t have my people with me.”

            “The mission specialists?” he said as he remembered the unusual cargo that had never made it onto Eagle. “Who were they? Soldiers?”

            Her expression was answer enough. He had made that connection earlier when he had realized that part of the cargo Eagle had received contained enough weapons and armor to outfit an entire battalion.

            “Captain,” the first officer’s voice was strained with urgency.

            Owens and Tren whipped around and quickly found Edison’s source of anxiety. A cream-colored gas had begun to noiselessly stream into the room from the ventilation system.

            Xyilon confirmed everybody’s fears. “It is anesthizine gas,” he said calmly. “It will take effect within a matter of seconds.”

            “Somebody is trying to neutralize us,” Nora said.

            Owens hurried back to the door. “Lieutenant, we need to get out, now.”

            “One minute,” she said tersely, her forehead now moist from perspiration.

            “We don’t have a minute,” he said.

            Nora rushed to the table, quickly collected all napkins she could find, and soaked them into pitchers of water. Then she quickly distributed the wet pieces of cloth among the people in the room. “Keep that in front of your mouth and nose,” she said as she handed them out. “It will buy us some time.”

            A static shock shot through the circuitry Hopkins had been manipulating and she painfully retracted her hands. “Damn.”

            The two door panels moved. No more than a few centimeters. Not nearly enough room to allow escape.

            Xylion and Edison quickly moved to the door, grabbed the edges of the panels, and pulled them open until there was just enough space for a body to pass through.

            Owens nodded to his officers and without another moment of deliberation, one by one made their way through the gap and into the corridor beyond.

            To their dismay, they found the hallways much in the same shape as the dining room. Here too crimson-colored emergency beacons provided illumination. A station crewmember came stumbling around the corner only to collapse moments later.

            “We’ve got gas here as well,” Nora said and couldn’t suppress a coughing fit even with the wet napkin pressed against her face.

            “It’s all over the station,” Tren said. “There should be a Jeffries tube access just a few meters down the corridor. There won’t be any gas in there.”

            “Go,” Owens said and gestured for Tren to show the way and then followed.

            Tren found the hatch and opened it. Owens was directly behind her and practically shoved her into the opening. His eyes were burning and beginning to tear up. He could make out Deen and Edison following him but wasn’t able to see beyond that.

            Edison helped Deen into the small hatch and then tried to turn back to make sure the others got in. He had lost the napkin and could hardly contain his coughing. Nora, disregarding rank and protocol, reached out for him and held him back firmly, preventing him from going back.

            “I need to get the others,” he said in between coughs.

            But she didn’t let go. “They’re coming.”

            Hopkins had stumbled to the ground when she had come out of the dining room. Her makeshift mask was gone and she could not find it through her tear-filled eyes. She had lost all sense of direction as tried to get back on her feet but could not tell which way the others had gone. It was then that she noticed the tall figure standing beside her. Panic gripped her for a moment until she recognized his face. It was Xylion. He reached out for her without making so much as eye contact and pushed her in the right direction.

            The gas had begun to form a thick red mist in the corridor that made it difficult to see anything beyond a few meters. 

When Edison spotted both Xylion and Hopkins approach the hatch he gave in to Nora and entered the Jeffries tube. Hopkins was next. Nora who had apparently made up her mind to be last could no longer control her coughing and was beginning to sag to the floor. Xylion made sure that she got in before he climbed into the narrow hatch and closed it behind him.