The Deimos Project

Copyright 2006 by Richard Lewis.
Some Rights Reserved.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.5/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 543 Howard Street, 5th Floor, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.

The Worst Day is the First Day...
	The main bridge of the Deimos was very utilitarian, however, there was more space to move around than most destroyers in the Terran Defense League.  This was due to one big change; the Deimos sported grav plating in all important areas, such as the main bridge, engine room, crew quarters and the gunnery pit.
	The simulated gravity made the crew more comfortable, but required walking space.  Most previous vessels had none, since it wasn't important.
	Interestingly enough, the designers stuck with the same old standard, placing crew stations on all available surfaces.  The room was a classic cylinder, but all of the "walls" were equipped with deck plating capable of the necessary attraction field.
	One end of the cylindrical room was a massive viewscreen, normally connected to the foreword camera array.  The opposite end was a zero-G hallway allowing access to the rest of the vessel.
	The room buzzed with activity, everyone at their stations, busily communicating with their departments via headsets.
	A young man stepped with practiced ease into the bridge gravity field.
	"Captain Gilroy," the ensign prodded.
	The hard, old man turned to face him and said, "What is it?"
	The Captain had oddly pale skin, but not as pale as a full-blooded vokosian's, since he was half human.
	"The results of all pre-flight checks." the young man offered a clipboard.
	The Captain took it and the ensign left with the same practiced ease.
	Quickly browsing through the report files contained within the clipboard's memory, he announced, "This is it.  All pre-flight checks show green status."
	The first officer, Commander Marshall, asked, "Is the word given?"
	With a slight smile, the Captain said, "The word is given.  Let's see what this baby can do!"
	Flicking a switch to connect his headset to the ship-wide PA system, Commander Marshall spoke, "All hands: secure your stations.  Retract mooring clamps and prepare for launch."
	The bridge crew kept their cool, but cheers were heard echoing from the hall behind them.  Thay'd all worked hard for this day.
	Each departmental head reported in turn that all was secure.  The Captain nodded to the first officer.
	Commander Marshall spoke again, "Atlantis Outpost: request permission to launch."
	The comm system crackled back, "Permission granted.  Opening docking bay doors."
	Gigantic motors whirred to life outside the destroyer, parting the atmospheric seal that previously kept the dry-dock safe for the engineering teams performing the rebuild.  Most of the atmosphere had already been pumped out, but a slight woosh sounded as the remainder escaped into the void.
	The Commander ordered, "Helm: pull us out of the garage, maneuvering thrusters only."
	As the Deimos lazily drifted out of the docking bay, Captain Gilroy's mind drifted to the 
day he arrived at Atlantis...

	The Captain hadn't been to Deimos before.  It was a smallish moon orbiting Mars, though more asteroid than moon.
	It was only recently that a military outpost was built.  Mars orbit was well defended, so it didn't quite make sense to him.  The only reason he could think of to setup a military base there was a recently discovered hyperspace conduit.
	He stepped out of the transport and into Atlantis, Deimos' only outpost.  The shift from microgravity to artificial gravity made his stomach turn briefly.
	Looking about, he found his new commanding officer waiting for him.
	"Captain Gilroy," Admiral Crosby began, "it's nice to finally meet you!"
	The Admiral offered his hand.
	Ignoring it, the Captain got right down to business, "Why am I here?"
	The Admiral smiled, "You got on the nerves of your last commanding officer."
	Intrigued, he cocked his head, "Oh?  What did I do?"
	"Nothing in particular.  He just said you've had a bad attitude the past few years."
	"I suppose so, sir.  I don't like pointless work."
	The admiral gestured down the hall, "Follow me.  I'll show you to the project you'll be overseeing."
	"Project?"
	The Admiral smiled again, "You've flown the Phantom class fighters, right?"
	Captain Gilroy nodded.
	"Then you're familiar with the maximum field attenuation problem?"
	"Yeah.  No cloaking field generator can produce a stable distortion larger than about seventy cubic meters, except near hyperspace conduits.  It's always kept the engineers from properly building a cloaked destroyer."
	"We solved it."
	"Solved it?  How?" the Captain was dumbstruck.  The ability to cloak a destroyer would make the Terran Defense League nearly unstoppable.
	The Admiral stopped to open a door and gestured for Captain Gilroy to go first.
	Stepping through, he found himself inside a massive dry-dock intended for destroyer production and maintenance.  The Admiral followed right behind.
	Perched in the middle of the room, propped up by huge braces was an old Relentless class destroyer in the process of a refit.
	"Do you remember the hyperspace fluctuation last year that made Deimos vanish for an hour?" the Admiral asked.
	"Vaguely.  I was a little too busy defending cargo from nothing at the time."
	"I'll refresh your memory.
	"Officially, there was a magnetic storm that temporarily forced the local hyperspace conduit open.  Deimos drifted partially into it, causing it to disappear.  It got spat back out when the storm passed."
	"And unofficially?"
	"The whole thing was a cover-up and an excuse to build this outpost.  Here's what actually happened:
	"We've known about the conduit for several years; we just hadn't thought of a use for one that leads to deep interstellar space.
	"One of our engineers figured out a way to link multiple cloaking generators to form one large field and that was our test run on a large object.
	"We used several hundred operating in tandem.  We got a boost from the conduit's proximity and we managed to cloak the entire asteroid."
	Captain Gilroy added, "And now you're refitting this old Relentless to try it out with a space vessel."
	The admiral smiled, "That's the plan."
	"One more question: why me?"
	Chuckling, the Admiral replied, "Your last commanding officer said you didn't feel useful and we needed someone to lead this project.  Both needs filled, far as I'm concerned.  Then there's the fact that we needed someone who's flown the Phantoms in combat."
	Captain Gilroy smiled for the first time in months; he'd finally met an Admiral he liked.

	The Captain disliked hyperspace; it always managed to make him feel slightly nervous.  There were several difficulties with it, all steming from the same problem: most of the modern defense systems of destroyers simply don't function in hyperspace.
	First of all, defense shields work by creating a self-contained region of hyperspace within normal space, shunting most weapon effects into it.  This of course doesn't work in hyerspace, leaving space vessels much more vulnerable to attack.
	Second, deflector screens didn't function for much the same reasons, meaning that any debris floating around could do massive damage, however, it is commonly known that normal matter can't last inside a conduit unaided.  The Captain was nonetheless nervous that this might someday happen anyway.
	Third, natural hyperspace conduits are very sensitive to radiation, especially what comes from nuclear weapons.  This wouldn't be a problem, except that most battles happen in close proximity to them, since they're the major points of strategic interest and military vessels are armed with nukes.
	The part that especially bothered the Captain was the fact that one stray nuclear explosion too close to a conduit could permanently collapse it.  He'd already seen this happen in a major battle during the most recent war.  One of the destroyers in his battle group lost it's navigational sensors and drifted too close.  Then they used a nuke to blast an enemy destroyer while it's shields were down.
	The resulting cataclysm wiped out nearly everything in the area.  When the dust cleared, fifteen crusisers were missing and the conduit was completely gone, permanently cutting the Terran Defense League off from nearly a quarter of it's territory.
	Fourth and last of all, cloaking generators don't function in hyperspace.  Most of the time, this didn't bother him, but the Deimos was cloak capable, so somehow, he felt exposed without the option.
	Commander Marshall announced, "We're in position, Captain.  Engineering reports ready for hyperlaunch."
	"Engage hyperdrive."

	The engine room, while large, was quite cramped in places.  Most of it was, not surprisingly, filled with engine.
	The central portion of the room was interrupted by a spherical object suspended between the ceiling and floor by several support beams.  The object hummed with life and was about two meters in diameter.  It was marked with extremely large black letters that read, Aft Main Reactor.
	Chief Dan Clover was busy directing his men to test several of the superconductor elements that powered the cloak generators.  Several damage control teams were currently away throughout the ship, assisting with the job.
	"Engage the hyperdrive, Chief." the voice of Commander Marshall came through his headset.
	The Chief shouted over the din, "Full power to hyperdrive!  Full power to hyperdrive!"
	As his men followed their orders, several large pieces of equipment came to life.  The Chief listened carefully; the hyperdrive had never been fully powered and he needed to be sure it was working properly.  He felt a slight vibration.
	Turning to his assistant, he muttered, "This is going to be a rough ride.  Take note: there's at least a two percent phase variance.  We'll have to correct it before the next jump or the Captain will be annoyed; he hates hyperspace."
	Moments later, the vibration became a full-blown tremor as Deimos accelerated through the conduit.

	The bridge was bathed in translucent blue light as Deimos slipped into hyperspace.  Everything started shaking violently, causing the crew to buckle up.
	The Captain simply closed his eyes and tried to keep his mind off it.  He didn't succeed.  He tried to shut the images out, but they flooded his mind, just like every other rough hyperspace jump...

	Commander Elias Gilroy's fighter was hit bad, but his counterpart in the dogfight was dead.  Bits of the bomber he'd just destoryed were bouncing off the hull.
	He swore and slammed his fist into a side panel.  He'd never been able to stand being useless and now the only thing he could do was sit and drift.  The entire engine system was toast; the bomber tailgunner's final shot ensured that.
	Activating his transmitter, he called out, "Rattlesnake to Relentless.  Scratch the last bomber.  It's up to the cruisers now."
	"Good job.  Return to base."
	"My engines are down."
	"We'll send someone ASAP; you're far enough from the battle that you'll be safe."
	"Understood."
	Turning off the transmitter, he switched his communications gear to play all messages being sent to and from the Relentless; he wanted to know what was going on with the destroyer he launched from.
	"Relentless to Fleet Command: we've destroyed the Arctic Cat."
	"Good, focus on those cruisers making a break for the conduit.  We can't allow them to escape.  The rest of the fleet will soften them up."
	"Fleet Command: be advised, our navigational array is down and we've lost track of our current location."
	"Allright.  Just hold position; you're close enough.  We'll call the targets."
	"Understood."
	The Commander strained his eyes in the direction of the battle and was able to pick out Relentless.  She was a powerful destoryer, carrying at least twenty nukes when fully armed.  So far, they'd used about six.
	"Command to Relentless: Aries is headed your wau.  Her shields are nearly down."
	Moments later, a bright flash of light obscured the battle.  The cockpit darkened, keeping his eyes safe.
	"Command: the Aries is down."
	The Commander smiled.  He was glad to see his buddies doing their job well.
	"Relentless: that was too close to the conduit.  The Winter Wolf is trying to escape."
	The cockpit cleared, allowing him to see again.
	"Command: the Winter Wolf's shields aren't damaged enough for nukes; we'll have to soften her up with our main cannons."
	Twin beams of green light pierced the din of the battle, striking a massive vessel's shields.  Moments later, they buckled.
	"Relentless: hold your fire!  Do not launch!"
	"Too late."
	The Commander could just barely see the conduit opening up for the Winter Wolf.
	"Command to fleet: evac immediately!  Get the-"
	The transmission was interrupted by static as a bright flash of light again darkened the cockpit.
	After a short time, the glass cleared and he saw the most horrible sight he'd ever seen; cruisers on both sides were enveloped by a massive shockwave that indescriminately killed friend and foe.  In deep horror, he felt his heart break as each helplessly vanished within it.
	After several agonizing moments of death and destruction, he was relieved to see that some of the cruiser's shields were blocking the blast.
	After a few minutes of this, the shockwave finally dissapated, passing by him with barely enough force  to knock him around.
	The static from the radio persisted for a short time.  Once it cleared, he was able to hear, "-to Relentless: are you still there?"
	Silence was the only response.
	They tried again, "Command to Relentless: please respond." 
	The Commander checked his sensors; he was reading fifteen less cruisers.  The Relentless was among the missing.
	"Command to fleet: begin search and rescue.  Power down weapons.  Help anyone that survived."
	The battle was over, but no one took any joy from it, least of all Elias Gilroy.  He'd lost most of his friends and comrades.
	The war was over.  Neither the Terrans nor the Vokosians wanted to claim victory; the cost was just too high.  Peace quickly came and the two battling empires joined to become one.

	Finally the images subsided and he regained his wits.
	Commander Marshall was standing next to him, giving him a strange look.
	"Sir, are you allright?"
	Somewhat flustered, he replied, "I'm fine.  Take us to the Forsaken Proving Grounds."
	"Captain, we've already arrived.  Forsaken's crew is hailing us."
	"Tell them we're ready for shake-down.  Launch the fighters and bombers.  Configure all systems to simulate battle."

	Forsaken was a small outpost that served one purpose only; it was filled with sensors and recording devices.  It was used to test new equipment and monitor for any problems that might arise.
	Two small tug ships were docked there, for emergency rescue operations.  Sometimes things had a tendancy to go seriously wrong.
	The other bridge officers were busy coordinating efforts to deploy the fighters and bombers; Deimos was in actuality, a small carrier.  The designers assumed that having a cloaked destoryer capable of delivering a score of fighters and bombers would be useful.
	Finally, the bridge quieted down and Commander Marshall reported, "Fighters and bombers are in place.  We're ready to begin, sir."
	The Captain punched a button on his console and spoke into his headset.
	
	Chief Clover was preparing for the cloak test.  He had a few more diagnostics to run on the superconductor elements, but he and his team were almost ready.
	Captain Gilroy's voice came over the PA system, "We're about to activate the cloaking generators.  I know that most of you have never experienced a cloaking field.  Remember your training.  Keep yourselves strapped into your seats and your hands on whatever controls you're responsible for."
	Moments later, the order was relayed.
	The Chief barked over the sound of the engines, "Finish up whatever you're doing and strap in!"
	After everyone was ready, he smiled, "Here's one for the history books!"

	Space is big.  Really big.  Nothing makes a man feel that more than taking a ride in a cloaked ship.
	The Captain had never gotten used to the illusion of flying naked through space.  With the cloak engaged, the ship and everything in it was invisible.  Including his eyelids.  No one was even sure why they could see; according to theory, all of the light should have been extradimensionally bent around the ship and they should have seen nothing at all.
	Somehow, a small portion of the light passing through them was interacting with their eyes, forming a dim visible image.  It was so muted that looking directly at a sun was safe.
	Commander Marshall asked, "Is this what flying the Phantoms is like?"
	"Mostly.  The Phantoms have no grav plating." the Captain commented, then ordered, "Begin the test.  Transfer target acquisition control for the fighters and bombers to Forsaken."
	
	Amanda Steel wasn't sure what was going on.  She'd been hiding in a cargo container for several hours and was beginning to dose off, only to find herself floating in space!  Quite naturally, she screamed.
	She thought she'd been thrown out an airlock, but after a moment or two of hyperventilating, she realized she was still in the crate; she could feel the sides.
	Trying to calm herself down, she closed her eyes to block it out.  It didn't help at all.
	Amanda began whispering; when she was very stressed, she talked to herself and it helped, "Calm down, Amanda!  Remember the story; that's what's important.  Whatever's going on, you're still safe.  You can breathe, so they couldn't have thrown you out an airlock.  You're just seeing through everything, for some reason, that's all."
	It didn't help and she panicked again.

	The Captain was in his element, completely.
	"Helm: you see that bomber?  The close one that's not moving.  Get our main cannon pointed at it; I want to teach that pilot a lesson about standing still.  Make sure you line us up so we can hit another, too."
	"Understood."
	The ship pivoted to face the intended target.
	"Allright, we're ready." the Captain bellowed, "Everybody: here's what we're going to do: I want to decloak, fire the cannon from auxiliary reserves and then cloak again.  We should have the power to pull it off in less than ten seconds if everyone does their job correctly.  Helm: once we're cloaked again, I want you to change direction and punch it to full throttle immediately."

	Amanda was relieved to not be seeing stars anymore.  It was very nerve-wracking.
	Pulling a pen light from her pocket, she flashed it around to make sure she was still in the crate.  Blank gray walls; exactly what she wanted to see.
	Just as she was sighing in relief, she suddenly found herself in space again.  She panicked for the third time.

	Even though no one could see it, Captain Gilroy was smiling.  That bomber pilot would never make that mistake again.  Unfortunately, the second target the pilot had lined up on managed to dodge away; targeting was difficult without help from the computer.  The squadron was scrambling in all directions, preparing for the next strike.
	Their victim was making his way off the simulated battle field, since a simulated cannon blast had destroyed him. Deimos had escaped with only minor simulated damage.
	"Scratch one bomber; two to go." Commander Marshall seemed to be keeping score.
	Feeling for a switch, the Captain flipped it, "Gunnery Control: open fire when we decloak.  Take the bombers down first; they're the biggest threat."
	The reply came back, "Understood."

	Amanda was once more relieved to see the inside of the crate.  The ship was banking around without warning.  Something strange was going on.  She suspected it was some kind of battle, but she'd never been in one before and wasn't sure what it was like.  She wasn't hearing explosions, so she wasn't sure.

	Captain Gilroy was pleased with the crew's performance.  He wasn't pleased with the squadron, however.
	The bombers were out of the fight and the fighters were getting creamed; without the bombers, they just couldn't penetrate a destroyer's shields; the gunners were having a field day.
	Suddenly, one of the fighters hit full throttle from the edge of the battle!  It was on a collision course!
	"Evade!" the Captain shouted!
	Seconds later, something impacted on the hull, causing a deep groan in the structure of the ship.  Commander Marshall immediately radioed to signal the end of the test.

	Amanda raised her hands as a pair of marines opened the crate and pointed extremely lethal-looking weapons at her.
	"Who are you and what are you doing here?"
	She smiled sheepishly and meekly replied, "Amanda Steel.  Chasing a story."
	"She's a reporter." the other explained with a measure of disappointment in his voice.
	Shrugging, she nodded in the affirmative.
	"Aren't we supposed to shoot her?" the first one asked.  Amanda got very scared.
	"Technically, we're not in a restricted area anymore.  If we'd found her before we left, then we could have shot her."
	The first joked, "Ah, so we'll shoot her when we get back to Atlantis?"
	A third one, with officer stripes, walked into view and ordered, "Take her to the brig.  We'll let the Captain decide what to do with her."
	After putting her in irons, they were on their way.

	Captain Gilroy was glad to see one of the lights on his comm panel flashing.  Flipping a switch, he said, "Go ahead."
	Chief Clover spoke, "Captain, something is very wrong here.  I ordered a damage control team to check out the impact.  They mentioned something about an object penetrating the hull and then I stopped getting reports.  I lost them mid-sentence.  There was rapid breathing over the line and then nothing."
	"This is serious." the Captain ordered, "Commander Marshall!  Get a squad down to the hull breach immediately.  I want them in full combat gear."
	Speaking into the headset, he continued, "Chief Clover, have a damage control team on standby.  I'm sending marines to clear the area."
	"Yes, sir."
	Switching his headset to contact the infirmary, he spoke, "Be prepared for casualties.  We've got possible hostiles on board."
	The duty nurse replied, "Got it."
	Turning the headset off, he asked, "Have we gotten any reports from our fighters and bombers?"
	"All accounted for." Marshall replied.
	"What about Forsaken?"
	"All vessels accounted for."
	"Get one of our fighters to make a visual inspection.  We've got a ship that doesn't belong stuck in our hull."

	Amanda was on her way to the brig, being pulled along a zero-G corridor by the marine officer.  The other two were in tow.  The officer's headset crackled and he paused for a moment, listening.
	He quickly turned and informed his men, "There may be hostiles on board and we're needed."
	Turning to her, he said, "Sorry, but we don't have time for you right now."
	He unlocked one of her hands, giving Amanda some hope that she was being released.  She was disappointed when he attached her to the railing instead of unlocking her other hand.
	"What?  You're just going to leave me here?"
	One of his underlings nodded as they turned to leave, "Yep.  We'll come back for you eventually."
	"That's not fair!  I deserve to be locked in a safe cell!" she called after them.
	"Actually, you deserve to be shot." he casually tossed back.
	For once in her life, Amanda was speechless.

	Morgan Lawrence had recently been assigned to the Deimos Project.  She was a new arrival to Atlantis, even.  She requested a test pilot job because she loved new hardware.
	Little did she know that she would be nurse-maiding an experimental destroyer.  She wasn't happy that it's crew had schooled them in a battle test, either.
	She was strapped into a diminutive fighter called a blue-wing.  It was also experimental, but was very similiar to an older design with known capabilities.  She was at least carrying some spanking new weapons, but they were all inactive.
	"Okay, Girl Scout.  You're closest to Deimos, so the job falls to you." her commanding officer radioed.
	Girl Scout was Morgan's callsign.
	"What do you need?  I thought the simulation was over." she replied.
	"It is.  Do a flyby of Deimos and inspect the hull.  Something hit her and stuck in place.  Captain Gilroy wants to know what it is."
	Locking the navigational sensors onto Deimos, she gently slid the throttle foreword, inching her way ahead.  Once she was in place, she started searching for the offending object as she briefly reversed throttle.
	After about a minute, she spotted it: a translucent, black object protruding from the hull.
	She reported, "I've never seen anything like this.  I can see the object; it's black and semi-transparent, about ten meters wide.  I see movement."
	"Get as close as you're comfortable with and get some video with your gun camera."
	Inching even closer, she switched on the targeting system and attempted to lock onto the object, so she could use it to assist with aiming the camera.
	"I can't lock onto it with my targeting system; it's got no radiation signature or Deimos is masking it."
	"Do your best, Girl Scout."
	Watching the tiny monitor in the center of the control panel, she aimed the camera and got some good video.  Finally having a decent picture to send, she switched on the transmitter.
	"I don't think this thing is Terran or Vokosian." she radioed, "It almost looks alive."
	
	Amanda was increasingly of the opinion she'd made a mistake stowing away on this ship.  All kinds of horrible things were happening and all she wanted to do was run and hide.  Unfortunately, she was chained to the railing.
	First of all, she heard gunfire.  Lots of it.
	After that, several explosions went off.
	Third, it became quiet.  It wasn't a normal kind of silence.  She could still hear the background hum of the ship, but the tone had imperceptably changed.
	Last of all, she saw crimson droplets of blood float around the corner, hitting the wall in the weightless environment.

	Commander Marshall reported, "Whoever's gotten on board knows what they're doing.  We're losing marines right and left."
	The Captain switched to a frequency that could reach the Marines and spoke, "Major Bradley, this is the Captain.  Report!"
	He heard heavy, panicked breathing in response, "Uh, sir?  The Major's dead!"
	"What happened, son?"  he asked.  He was familiar with the voice at the other end; it was a young Vokosian Lieutenant named Vok who'd just been transferred.
	"I-I'm not sure.  They're horrible!  They're all dead!"
	"Who's dead?"
	"The intruders.  T-They just poured out of their ship.  They're fearless!"
	"Calm down, Lieutenant Vok." the Captain tried to soothe him, "You said they're dead.  You don't have to worry, now."
	"You don't understand!  They are dead, but they're still fighting!"
	"What?!"
	"Bullets don't do anything!  They're swatting us like flies!"
	Captain Gilroy ordered, "Get to a safe place.  I'm sending reinforcements."
	Switching off the headset, he ordered, "I want that object destroyed!  Mobilize every marine we've got and arm them with the heaviest ordinance they can carry!"

	Deimos's communications officer came over the radio, "Deimos to fighters: destory the object!  Do not damage Deimos."
	Morgan commented as she powered up the fighter's weapons, "Always nice when they ask the impossible..."
	Taking quick aim, she fired a laser into the tail of it.

	The ship was rocked by an explosion and an alarm sounded.  Air whooshed down the hall, but was soon stopped by an emergency bulkhead; at least that's what Amanda thought was happening.
	An injured marine floated down the hallway toward her; he wasn't moving very fast and was breathing quite heavily, like he was panicking.
	Spotting her, he commanded, "Run away!  Get out of the hall!"
	Pointing to her restraints, she yelled, "I can't!"
	The marine quickly whipped out his sidearm and Amanda silently said a prayer in her heart.
	"Oh gosh!  Don't kill me!"
	She was surprised when he aimed at the chain holding her in place and fired, freeing her.
	Stopping to rest a moment, he explained, "I'm being followed by one of them."
	"Them?  Who are you talking about?"
	He grunted through the pain, "The aliens."
	Suddenly, a large humanoid made it's way around the corner, carefully and quickly moving their way.  It was tall, with long, thin limbs.  It's skin and flesh looked battered and beaten.  It's body had been shot at least forty times, but it paid no mind.  It wasn't even bleeding!
	The marine swore and swiveled.  Firing, he put three holes in it's forehead!  It wasn't phased.
	"We've got to get out of here!" he yelled.  Amanda wasn't about to disagree.
	They hurried down the hall and rounded a corner, coming face to face with a squad of marines armed with weapons of all shapes and sizes.  One of them held a compact rocket launcher.
	They pushed the two of them out of the way and made a stand.  Just as they were about to fire, the marines froze in terror.  Fortunately, the one holding the rocket launcher was fine.  He deftly took aim and squeezed the trigger!
	Seconds later, bits of alien were floating everywhere.  Strangely, there was very little blood.

	The Commander reported, "The heavier artillary seems to be having an effect, sir.  The marines are making a systematic sweep of the ship now.
	"We're also getting some strange reports.  Every human the aliens have encoutered was unable to fight.  It seems they were overcome with terror."
	"That's odd.  Vokosians are unaffected?" the Captain asked.
	Commander Marshall nodded, "I'm having those who've experienced it report to the infirmary so we can learn more."
	"Good thinking.  I'm heading down there to talk to them myself."
	The Captain stood up and headed off down the hall, while Commander Marshall took his place in the command chair.

	The infirmary was small compared to the hospital at Atlantis, but it was sufficient.  There were four occupied beds for patients and a surgical table.  Several marines were loitering in the room, waiting to tell their stories to the duty nurse.  Others were lying on the floor; there were makeshift patient beds everywhere.
	In one corner was a red-haired woman in civie clothes, holding her head in her hands.
	Sitting on one of the diagnostic benches was an object that resembled a turtle shell in most ways, only it was made of a strange black steel.  Next to that was a sealed plastic container of still-moving body parts from one of the aliens, he presumed.  They looked humanoid and very strong.
	Moving closer to the shell, the Captain rapped on it a few times.  Within seconds, an ash-colored tentacle with an eye on the end popped out and swept the room with it's gaze, finally focusing on him.
	Moments later, four more tentacles popped out, two of which reached down to the floor and functioned as legs.  The creature stood and faced him.
	It spoke from inside the shell in a deliberately slow manner, "Hello Captain."
	"Hello Sefu.  What's been happening?"
	"Terror."

	The Teachers are a strange, but friendly race of aliens that a Terran scout ship encountered a decade earlier.  They called themselves teachers, because they consider mankind (including the Vokosians) very young and immature, thus in need of teaching.  Even this was a step up.  They first considered humans "dangerous animals," but discarded this notion, becuase the scout team was quick to be friendly.
	The Teachers were first considered to be primitive, because they have no use for technology.  The scouting team quickly discarded their own preconceptions.  All Teachers are born with the ability to alter their DNA just by willing it.  Their entire metabolism is built on this amazing ability.  Through thousands of years of experience and practice, they've gained the ability to bud advanced biogadgets from their bodies.
	Despite the similiarities in having two arms and two legs, they're quite alien.  They seem to be completely incapable of understanding numbers and they see in infrared.  Names are similarly difficult for them and they often use a person's title instead of their name.
	In general, Teachers are non-violent vegetarians, because they have an advanced sense of taste that allows them to sense the emotions of any organic thing they touch.  Their native form of communication is based on this and is nearly telepathic in nature.
	They are effectively sexless, because they are both male and female at the same time, similiar to the way a snail is.  Those they spend time with will often use male or female pronouns depending on how the teacher acts.

	Sefu was the first Teacher to learn English and he was currently serving as Deimos' Chief Medical Officer, which he was quite good at, since his race's hands functon as surgical insturments.  The Captain found speaking with him quite trying at times, because Sefu did not always explain himself well and his choice of words were often strange.
	"I don't understand."
	Sefu explained, "The Dead Terrors have returned."
	"Returned?  We've never seen these aliens before."
	"Your ancestors have.  So have my people."
	"What?"
	With a voice that sounded as though it had come from a corpse, someone said, "Perhaps I can explain."
	The Captain turned to face the box of squirming body parts and noticed there was a humanoid head with a heavy-looking brow inside.  It was grinning in an extermely ghastly manner.
	It spoke, "We're here for our property."
	"Your property?"
	The disgusting creature showed it's filthy teeth again, "Terra and everything in it belongs to us."
	"You mean the Terran system and the human race?"
	"Yes."
	Captain Gilroy was angry, "We don't belong to anyone!  We're not your property!"
	"Our claim is ancient.  It may have been ten-thousand years, but you still belong to us."
	"What do you want with us?"
	"Nothing extravagant.  Just shells to inhabit."
	"Shells?"
	The alien rolled it's eyes, "Your bodies.  As you can see, our physical forms are not in the best shape.  Decay has made them nearly useless, except as weapons."
	The Captain suddenly realized he was looking at the body parts of a Neanderthal.  It explained the heavy brow and the gigantic muscles.
	The Captain ordered, "I want that thing incinerated.  For that matter, incinerate them all."
	One of the marine officers nodded and headed off to take care of it, picking up the container on his way out.
	Turning back to Sefu, he asked, "You called them 'Dead Terrors.'  Why?"
	"It is a long story, as you say," Sefu began, "but I will make it small.  This is the story of why we live in the ground, but it holds many other lessons..."

	The First sat on a great rock, high in the sky, above the clouds.  The lights in the sky were many and varied.  The rock of the ground was solid, but cold.
	The Children played in the valley below, awaiting it's return.  The sky had darkened many times since it left, but still, it could not return.  The Children were born of it and had the First's wisdom, but they didn't use it.  They always returned to it and asked what they should do.
	That is why it left.  The Children needed to learn; they were still very young and leaving was teaching.
	The First One breathed in the night air and looked up.  It never saw the sky lights before.  The clouds kept them away.
	As it watched, the night passed slowly.  It was all new, so when the First saw a light fall, it thought nothing of it; eventually, all things fall.
	It watched the light as it made it's way to the ground.  It moved strangely, slipping back and forth, as though on a changing wind.
	The light grew larger as time passed, but the First grew tired.  It slept.
	When it woke, day had come.
	The First was lonely.  It had been alone before the Children came, but it was used to them.  It missed them.  It walked the path to the valley.
	As it came closer to the valley, it saw something odd: something new was there.  It looked much like a very big bug.
	Stepping into the valley, the First looked around; the tree-homes were burning and large, dangerous animals were hurting the Children!
	An animal caught a Child by the arm and darkness flowed between them.  The animal fell dead, but the Child seemed different.  It moved strangely.
	The First touched the Child.
	Terror!
	The Child was in pain!  Something was inside it!
	The First reached inside the Child and took the darkness out.  The darkness returned to the animal and it rose from the dead.
	The First stepped foreword and the animal stepped back.  The animal was afraid!  It pressed foreword and the animals moved back.
	The Children stood and faced them.  Hand-in-hand, they moved together, The First in the lead!
	The bug ate the animals and flew away.

	Sefu explained, "The animals were human.  I believe the bug was their ship."
	"What of the darkness?" the Captain asked.
	"The darkness was a Terror.  In a body, they are Dead Terrors."
	"How do you know all this?"
	"The ancestors are here." Sefu pointed to himself.  The Captain was vaguely aware that Teachers had some kind of genetic memory from their parents, but he'd never asked about it.
	"What do you think we should do?"
	Sefu then said something entirely uncharacteristic, "Destroy them."
	The Captain was shocked.  As he understood it, all Teachers were commited to total non-violence.
	He had to ask, "What about your pacifism?"
	"The Dead Terrors are dead.  They are flat.  Destroy them."
	Sefu was refering to his ability to sense emotion by touch; he usually described living things as round and non-living things as flat.
	Sefu continued, "All living things die.  It's how life ends, so new life can begin.  They are not natural!"
	He shouted the last part; Sefu seemed extremely agitated, another thing the Captain had never seen.

	Captain Gilroy returned to the bridge and sat down.
	Marshall reported, "The sweeper teams are reporting all clear.  All of the remains have been incinerated as per your orders."
	"Scan the surrounding space for enemy vessels.  Alert the squadron.  I want them scannning, too.  Get us in a defensive posture around Forsaken; they haven't got the defensive ability we do."

	The squadron was in position.  Morgan wasn't sure what was going on.  Captain Gilroy hadn't seen fit to inform the squadron what was going on.
	First, check out the object.  Then destroy it.  Now, protect Forsaken and scan space.
	She sighed and punched a few buttons and half-heartedly stared at the scanner monitor.
	"Is anyone seeing anything?" she radioed.
	Several of the other pilots called back, "Nothin." "Nope." "Nada."
	Their commaning officer ordered, "Cut the chatter.  We've got a job to do."
	Moments later, light pierced the void of space.  It was the same trnaslucent blue of a hyperspace conduit!
	Morgan focused her sensors at it and was quite shocked.  She was getting over one-hundred-fifty separate objects and one gigantic one.
	"Holy Hannah!" someone called out over the radio.

	Captain Gilroy shouted, "What?"
	The sensor operator repeated himself, trembling, "I've got 150 objects on approach."
	The Captain swore.
	"Get that armada on screen!"
	Finally, he saw the true horror of the situation, swarms of ships of all sizes, with one gigantic one in the middle.
	Working the controls on the arm rest, he focused the screen on the big one, "How large?"
	"Approximately 2500 meters."
	Marshall muttered, "We're not even a tenth that size."
	The Captain responded, "No ship in the TDL is."
	Turning to the sensor operator, he asked, "What's their ETA?  Do we have time to retreat?"
	Doing a quick calculation in his head, the sensor man replied, "An hour, plus or minus.  That fleet is faster than us.  There's no chance we can get back to Atlantis in time."
	Captain Gilroy sighed, "Dock with Forsaken; strip it and evacuate the crew.  We need all the supplies we can get our hands on.  We might be getting stuck here."
	Tunring on the PA system, he annouched, "This is it people.  Shakedown is over.  We've got a real battle to fight in an hour.  We can't let these aliens get to the Terran System.  We've got to stop them here, at any cost!  The armada ahead of us is bigger and likely more powerful than anything Terra could muster in time."
	Marshall suggested, "A message beacon should be fast enough to reach the conduit."
	"Have someone mount a hyperdrive on one and launch it."

	Chief Clover's men were busy.  Forsaken's parts supply was very complete; they were categorizing based on what he thought would be most helpful if they got in a heavy firefight.  The station's maintenance crew was a big help; they knew the supply room like the back of their hand.
	The marines were busy moving extra munitions from the station's meager defense batteries, leaving just enough for a short battle.  With a few adjustments, the batteries were prepared for remote operation.
	Security teams were moving non-coms and research scientists aboard Deimos.  The station wouldn't take a pounding for long, especially once the Chief was through with it.
	He was currently deep inside the engineering deck, rigging several of the main reactor's safety features to shutdown remotely.  It was a class IV fusion reactor; old and out of date.  With just the right touch and a little know-how, he was turning it into a megaton hydrogen bomb.
	Finished, he slipped the now-active remote detonator in his pocket and headed back aboard Deimos.
	Reaching the engine room after a brisk walk, he found his assistant preparing the message beacon.  It was a smallish spherical device, about a foot in diameter, with four holes for thrusters on one side.  It had a bare wire mesh filled with electronics hastily welded to the front end, the hyperdrive.
	"How close is it?" he asked.
	His assistant connected a power cable to the hyperdrive and said, "I've just got a couple of tests to run."
	"No time.  It's got to go now!  Take it to an airlock and fire it up."
	"Yes, sir!" the young man saluted and picked up the beacon.

	The sensor man annouced, "ETA: five minutes."
	Captain Gilroy felt a little nervous.  He hadn't been in real combat for years.  He'd spent far too long behind a desk or escorting low-value cargo at his last posting.
	Chief Clover arrived on the bridge, "I've got the detonator."
	He looked like he was scared; the Chief had never seen combat and neither had most of the crew.  Only a handful of individuals on the entire ship had.
	The Captain took the detonator and clipped it to his arm rest.
	As the Chief left, he called back, "Don't worry, son.  We'll get through this safely, even if I have to get out and push."
	That lightened the mood a little and got people smiling.  They needed to smile right now, because in a few minutes, the savage chaos of battle would reign.
	He ordered, "Get our people back aboard.  All hands to battle stations!"
	Commander Marshall relayed his orders and everyone belted in.  Moments later, they undocked and fired up the engines, heading back the way they'd come.
	"Tell the gunners to open up on the fleet with Forsaken's weapons.  Bring our fighters back in and secure them.  Shields to maximum!"

	"Allright, Girl Scout, your turn!  You're cleared for landing!"
	She kicked in the engines for one final burst and radioed, "Girl Scout on final approach."
	Moments later, she lightly set down in the hangar and suited dock-workers made their way toward her fighter to re-charge it's power cells.
	As she climbed out of the cockpit, the main doors closed and the hangar started re-pressurizing.
	Seconds later, she found herself face-down on the floor, having been knocked off the ladder by the entire ship shaking!
	She rolled over and cracked the seal on her helmet, letting her long, blonde hair fall loose.
	"What was that?" she asked as her fighter's technician helpped her up.
	"Don't know, but we are in a battle!"

	The detonator worked just fine.  The shockwave and debris slammed through the enemy fleet, decimating scores of light spacecraft.  The big one took the brunt of it, but didn't seem damaged.  The only ones that didn't fare so well were the tiny fighters.  Some of the medium craft looked damaged, but that was the extent of it.
	The shcokwave rolled over Deimos, rocking the entire ship.
	"Damage report!"
	The bridge engineer informed him, "Minor damage, sir.  Shields at 80%."
	The sensor officer reported, "The fleet is slowing!  We might be able to get away!  The damaged ships are holding them back."
	The Captain barked, "Good!  Get us to the conduit!"
	Marshall spoke, "The fighters and bombers are ready to go again."
	"Keep them on standby; we'll need them soon enough."

	Amanda was still huddled in the corner.  Everyone had forgotten about her and she didn't want to attract attention.
	After all she'd seen, she was definitely in a place she didn't belong.  Threats of being shot, getting arrested, attacked by hostile aliens and being thrown around like a rag doll in a space battle was more than she wanted to deal with.
	Home and a nice cup of tea.  That's all she wanted now.  To blazes with the story!  This wasn't worth it!

	The time was passing slowly; the aliens were just out of weapons range, hot on their tail.  All it would take was a little flutter from the engines and that would be it.
	Captain Gilroy turned to Marshall, "Options?"
	Marshall pondered a moment, "The first thing that comes to mind is to keep running straight through the conduit, but that means the fleet will follow us to Terra."
	"Not an option."
	"As I assumed.  The second thing that comes to mind is leaving a delay fused mine on this side of the conduit.  We can set it to go off just after we go through.  No one's tried that sort of thing before.  We might be able to get through, or we might get fried to a crisp.  Terra would be safe."
	"Very dangerous.  Any other thoughts?"
	"I hate to bring this one up, because it would leave us in an uncertain postion."
	"Go on." the Captain prompted.
	"We can blow the conduit and hope they can't see through our cloak.  If we time it right, the explosion should wipe out a significant number of their ships.  After that we can either mop up, or run as fast as we can to the conduit they came through in the first place."
	"But we have no idea where it goes.  We could end up in the middle of another fleet."
	"That's the problem.  We'd also likely never find our way back home, but at least we'd be alive."
	"Allright, we're going with option three.  Make the preparations.  Get a nuke loaded in lauch tube four."
	Marshall began relaying orders and a new chill entered the bridge.

	Back in the cockpit, Morgan was covering some of the bombers.  Deimos squared off with the larger vessels, making a slow retreat, while the bombers were facing the medium sized ships.  They were hopelessly out numbered.
	Morgan was seeing some of the best flying she'd ever seen.  Her squad leader, Spider, was kicking butt and taking names.
	"Yes!" someone radioed after taking down a fighter.
	The aliens were fighting recklessly, as if they didn't care wether they lived or died.
	"Girl Scout!  Check your six!" Spider ordered.
	Immediately spinning in place, she opened fire on her opponent, tearing it's wing off with gun fire!  It continued moving foreword, undeterred!
	"Die you son of a-" she screamed, but was distracted as Deimos turned and launched a missile.  Several radiation alarms went off in the cockpit.  Her mouth dropped open.  It was a nuke!
	"No!  The conduit!"
	There was nothing she could do.  The missile was far too fast and aimed straight at the conduit, the only way home.

	Captain Gilroy ordered, "All gunners; cover our fighters and bombers for landing!  Marshall: bring them in.
	"Helm: full throttle!  Make a break for the node, but veer off before we get there and cloak as soon as our squadron is secure."

	The missile stopped at the mouth of the conduit.  It was waiting for something.
	Commander Marshall's voice came through the radio, "Deimos Squadron return!  Begin landing, now!"
	Morgan volunteered, as usual, "I'm last!"
	She was still locked in deadly combat with the damaged fighter.  Bolts of energy streaked past the cockpit!  She already had a few battle scars.
	Finally, she slipped a missile past it's defenses and bits of alien fighter bounced off the canopy.
	"Girl Scout!  Get your butt in here!"
	Looking around, she realized she was alone and surrounded!
	She swore and quickly evaded several attacks!
	"This is gonna be close!"
	She slammed the throttle foreword and aimed herself at Deimos' docking bay!  She was hit one more time and the on-board computer reported, "Landing gear failure."
	She screamed as she avoided several more attacks, "Aaaaahhhhhh!!!!"
	Finally, she came to a screaching halt, having crash-landed semi-safely.

	The bridge was a flurry of activity.
	"Watch our port side!" the Captain barked at tactical; one of the larger cruisers was getting too close.
	Marchall reported, "The squadron is secure!"
	"Cloak us!"
	The pilot shifted directions and everything became transparent again.
	"Get us to minimum safe distance and behind the big one!"
	Within minutes, the alien ships were activating their hyperdrives.  The conduit opened wide for them!
	"Detonate!" he ordered.
	Just as the first few ships made their way into the conduit, the nuke went off!  The terrible shockwave was difficult to look at, but was so bright they could still see it even when they turned away.  It didn't help much that while cloaked, they could see through their eyelids.
	Several minutes passed as the spots cleared from everyone's eyes.

	Amanda scremed!  She'd never seen a nuclear explosion, let alone an explosion of that magnitude.  Something soft and spongy grabbed her hand and spoke, "Calm yourself.  You are safe."
	It was probably the doctor, who she found creepy.  He was one of those Teacher things.  She'd never met one before and she didn't like him.
	Ripping her hand away, she yelled, "Leave me alone!"
	With that, she huddled further into the corner and tried desperately to cover her eyes.

	Peering toward the fleet, Captain Gilroy was shocked to see roughly the same number of ships as before.
	"No!" he swore several times in frustration.
	Finally, he calmed down and ordered, "Get us out of here."
	Thankfully, the cloak was hiding them.
	Within half an hour, they were a safe distance from the fleet and the cloak was draining defense reserves rapidly, so it was deactivated.
	"Scan for the second hyperspace conduit." the Captain ordered.
	Minutes later, the sensor operator called back, "I've got it on my monitor."
	"Take us to it."
	Within an hour, they were on their way to realms unknown.

	"Time?" the Captain asked, again.  He seemed unusually anxious.
	"Coming up on ten minutes." Commander Marshall reported.
	Turning to the nanigator, he asked, "Have you determined our probable destination, yet?"
	"No.  We're completely beyond known territory.  We're still in the galaxy, but I have no clue where we're going."
	Commander Marshall noticed a tremor in the Captain's fingers.  Just as he saw it, the Captain gripped the arm rests of his chair tightly and glared at him.  Obviously, he was hiding something.  This wasn't the first time; he'd noticed something similiar the last time they were in hyperspace.
	"Sir?" he whispered.
	The Captain snapped, "What?"
	The bridge officers all glanced quickly, but immediately got back to work.
	"You seem a bit off."
	The Captain was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned completely white, "I don't like hyperspace."
	"Is there anything I can do?"
	"Not unless you can change history."
	"Sir?"
	"Nevermind.  I'll be oaky."

	Finally, real space opened before them.
	The Captain was back to his normal self, "What's around us?"
	"We're in a binary system...three planets...two gas giants-"
	The sensor operator was interrupted by the tactical officer, "Sorry, but I've got one of those giant cruisers on a collision course, with about sixty objects in tow."
	The Captain swore and ordered, "Cloak us.  Get us out of the way."
	Within minutes, the second armada passed by without incident, each vessel entering the conduit in turn.
	After they'd passed, he ordered, "Get us out of here.  When we're a good distance away, decloak and scan for the nearest hyperspace node.  I have a feeling this system is an enemy stronghold."

	Morgan was on her way to her just-assigned quarters.  She was feeling depressed.  Terra was very far away and all her things were still back at Atlantis.  She had nothing in the way of personal items and she'd just been told the conduit back to home was gone.
	She stopped and slumpped to the floor, sobbing.  She didn't know what was happening for a long time.  Finally, she became aware of a hand on her shoulder.
	"Hey." Spider spoke softly, "What's wrong?"
	"I'm never gonna see my dad again." she managed through the tears.
	"I don't know about that, but at least he's safe."
	"What?"
	"We collapsed the conduit back to Terra.  Those aliens won't get there that way."
	She nodded, the tears had stopped, "You're right.  We've given up alot, but we did it to protect our families."
	He patted her on the back, "Why don't you check out your new quarters?  I was headed that direction myself."

Far From Home
	Chief Clover worked the numbers.  He didn't like what he was seeing.  He started over, hoping he'd made a mistake.  Finally, he was sure.
	Within minutes, he reached the bridge and gained the Captain's attention.
	"What is it, Chief?"
	"I crunched the numbers twice, just to be sure."
	"And?"
	"Six months, without the hyperdrive or cloak, but only if we minimize power usage.  Each trip through hyperspace will shorten that figure by at least a week."
	"Can't we refuel at gas giants?"
	The chief shook his head, "We don't have the equipment and our reactors can't run on raw gas giant.  It has to be pure hydrogen and we need boron-11 as well."
	"Couldn't we process hydrogen from water?"
	"Hydrogen is the easy part.  We need the boron.  It souldn't be hard to find; since it's common on most planets."
	"Allright.  We need fuel.  I'll keep that in mind."

	Morgan stared at her sparse quarters.  She was lucky to have them at all.  Most of the crew was sharing space in the bunk areas.  Being a senior pilot, regs afforded her some minor luxury.  It was cramped, but private.
	There was a small frame on the wall that served as both mirror and computer terminal.  Underneath that was a small sink.  Behind the mirror/terminal was a medicine cabinet with secure bracings for her toothbrush and other personal items.  It was designed to hold things in even if the attraction plating lost power.
	To her left lay a combination bed/sleep net.  It would serve her well even in zero-G.  Underneath that was a storage locker for her clothes and other gear.
	On the right, a writing desk and chair were built into the wall.
	Everything was constructed from a new steel alloy that was extremely light and scratch-proof.
	She opened the cabinet and rearranged her toothbrush and toothpaste.  Then she put them back where they were before.
	Morgan sighed.  All of her personal items were back at Atlantis.  The only things she had were the clothes on her back and the toothbrush set the duty nurse gave her.
	She removed her flight suit and stored it for later.  She was wearing a standard issue uniform underneath.  It was gray and somewhat drab, but it would do, since no one else on board had anything better.
	Reaching into her pockets, she realized she still had her wallet.  It wasn't much, but it was something.  She quickly rummaged through it: her money card, a few different ID cards and a battered picture of her dad she'd forgotten was there.
	She half-smiled and put the picture in the medicine cabinet where she'd see it often.
	
	Amanda stood before Captain Gilroy, who looked quite comfortable seated behind his desk.  His pale face was stony, revealing nothing.  He was staring at her, as though sizing her up.
	He finally spoke, "You're a reporter, right?"
	"Yes." she spoke curtly.
	"Chasing the story finally got you into a great deal of trouble?" he had a bit of a smirk on his face.
	She sighed, "Yes."
	"Have you any idea what the punishment attached to your crime is?"
	She nodded, trembling slightly, "'Deadly force authorized' is the phrase, I believe."
	"Relax.  If we were going to kill you, you'd already be floating in space."
	"What are you going to do with me?"
	"That's up to you."
	"How so?" she asked, feeling as if she was about to be trapped by her own words.
	"Simple: you can either spend our voyage in the brig, or you can help out around here.  If you're ever a source of trouble to me or the crew, you'll be living in the brig."
	"But-" she caught her tougne before she got into more trouble, "-I understand."
	"You're going to be helping out in the galley.  It's hard work; if you do a good job and don't complain, I'll consider giving you something else to do."
	"Where will I be sleeping?"
	"In the women's bunk area; the private rooms are reserved for senior pilots and officers."

	Seventeen hyperspace jumps past Forsaken and no sign of life.  Several of the planets had Boron in their crusts, but they were unable to collect any of it; all of the fighters were short range and Deimos was incapable of landing on anything with significant gravity.
	Captain Gilroy was beginning to worry.  If they didn't find a source of Boron soon, they'd be stranded.
	An alarm sounded!
	The sensor officer reported, "Perimeter alert!  We've got incoming boggies."
	"Shields up!  Onscreen!" the Captain ordered.
	Three small ships flanking a larger one came into focus.
	The smaller ones were all identical and definitely designed for atmospheric flight; they had proper wings and control fins.  They were black with silver stripes.
	The larger was more blocky and covered with gun turrets.  The coloring was similiar.
	"Transmit: all frequencies, all known languages."
	The communications officer nodded, "Go ahead."
	Captain Gilroy spoke firmly, yet in a friendly tone, "Good day.  We are peaceful travellers that have lost their way.  We request assistance."
	The response was quick, unitelligeable and used a threatening tone.  It was definitely not a known language.  The Captain glanced at the communications officer who just shook his head and shrugged.
	Seconds later, Deimos was rocked by a shield impact!  Tactical reported, "Shields down seven percent!"
	"Helm: get us out of here!  Tactical: return fire!"
	The battle was short; Deimos was faster and able to escape.
	The Captain flipped a switch and spoke to Chief Clover, "Damage report."
	The Chief wasted no time, "No damage.  Shield reserves down to sixty percent.  We're recharging as we speak."
	Flipping the switch back, he turned to tactical, "I want an analysis of those ships.  Find a weakness, in case we're attacked again."

	Amanda was miserable.  She didn't like her new job as scullery maid.  She didn't like serving breakfast, lunch and dinner to the crew.
	She didn't like the bed she'd been assigned; there were other bunks everywhere around her and the other women sharing the space ignored everything she did, except when she got in their way.  They wouldn't even talk to her.  Someone was awake at all hours, due to the shift rotations.  Everyone else was used to it.
	Amanda was miserable.
	One cup of tea.  That's all.  One cup of tea...
	She was serving the crew lunch, dressed in an ugly gray jumpsuit, wearing a hair net.
	One of the pilots, a woman with long blonde hair, cleared her throat to get Amanda's attention.
	Amanda looked up from the stroganoff and met her gaze.
	"Sometime in the next hour or so, please?" the woman spoke, not quite rude, but approaching it.  Some of the others in line sniggered.
	Amanda dumped some food on the woman's plate and then looked back at the pot, morosely.

	Morgan sat at her usual table, next to Spider, "Who's that serving the Stroganoff?"
	Spider looked over his shoulder and shrugged, "I think she's our stow-away."
	"Stow-away?"
	"Some of the marines found a reporter hiding in the cargo bay.  Captain Gilroy decided to make her earn her keep by serving us food."
	"She doesn't seem very happy."
	He shrugged again, "She probably isn't.  Civies don't usually like life on board military vessels.  Not enough comfort."

	Lunch was over and Amanda was finally on break, sipping some coffee.  It wasn't tea.
	She sighed and set the coffee down.
	The cook, one of the few people that would actually talk to her, asked, "What's wrong?  Don't like my coffee?"
	"It's just...it's silly.  Not important."
	"What is it?  Maybe I can help."
	"It's not tea.  I really miss tea."
	He shrugged and sat down next to her, "Sorry, but we don't have any on board."
	"I know." she said sullenly.
	The blonde haired woman sat down at Amanda's table, "I'd like to appologize for the way I treated you earlier."
	"What?" she looked up.
	"I was a little short with you about the stroganoff."
	"You were?" Amanda didn't remember it.
	The woman nodded, "I was.  I'm sorry."
	Amanda shrugged, "Don't worry about it.  I deserve it for stowing away on this ship."
	"No.  You don't." the woman pasued a moment and extended her hand, "My name's Morgan Lawrence.  The fly-boys call me Girl Scout. What's your name?"
	"Amanda Steel.  It's a big name on Terra, but that doesn't mean much out here."
	"Ah.  That's why I don't know who you are.  I don't follow Terra Global News much.  I usually just watch the Jupiter Report, since that's where I grew up."
	Amanda remembered something, "Lawrence?  Are you related to the famous explorer, David Lawrence?"
	Morgan nodded, "He's my dad."
	"Wow." Amanda finally smiled, "You're famous, too."
	"Sort of.  I used to fly him everywhere.  Everyone remembers him, but not me.  Six years of flying him everywhere and nobody know who I am."