Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: Thu, 15 Apr 2004 04:57:56 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: Gabrielle Lawson Title: Oswiecim Author: Gabrielle Lawson (inheildi@earthlink.net) Series: DS9 Part: REP 21/42 Rating: [PG-13] (Violence) Codes: Chapter Nine -- Continued Max had noticed the *Blockalteste*'s angry looks for the last few days. He had not tried to hide them. Each day he grew more brutal, always singling Max out for the slightest imagined infraction. His bunk was not clean enough. His clothes were too dirty. He took too long to rise from the ground during drills. None of which could be helped. But Max had also noticed that Vlada was missing more and more, even from the drilling. Max generally only saw him at roll calls now. Though he seemed relatively well fed, he had a hollow look to him. He smiled whenever he saw Max and always had an extra crust of bread to give him. Max had noticed, too, when the *Blockalteste* had approached the SS, pointing in his direction. The SS had then instantly called him by number after roll call, assigning him to one of the work kommandos. He hadn't even had time to say goodbye to Vlada or to tell him where he was going. He didn't like where he ended up. A new transport arrived that morning carrying Gypsies. Max, in his new kommando, was assigned to unload their baggage from the train. He watched as the Gypsies were unloaded. They were scared and didn't know what to expect from the camp. They resisted the order to leave their possessions behind. It was much like the time when Max had arrived with Sophie and Hana: Dogs barking, people yelling, pushing, hitting, and the ever- present SS. It was the second such transport and unlike the transports of Jews, these Gypsies didn't have to go through a selection there at the platform. They had a whole camp to themselves where they could live with their families. It was still crowded for them and they, too, had little to eat, but at least their children were not killed. At first, he felt pity for them. But as he saw child after child, he couldn't help but think of his own, precious daughter, slaughtered by the Germans. And he didn't understand why the Gypsy children were saved. He was jealous, and though he hated himself for wishing death on children, even Gypsy children, he felt it nonetheless. He was glad then when the train was empty and he didn't have to see their little faces anymore. The rest of the long day was spent sorting through the belongings they left behind and transporting them to Kanada. The large area full of warehouses had been nicknamed Kanada because of the riches contained there. Gold, jewels, and money, but also clothes, shoes, eating utensils, and photographs were stored there before being sent back to Germany. He was told that there was also a warehouse for hair which was used to stuff mattresses for the Germans or to make socks for U-Boat crews. He had hoped that he would return to his barracks after the evening roll call, so that he might see Vlada and explain to him what had happened, but he was taken instead to a new Block in a different area of the camp. It was a much more crowded barracks with several hundred more people than the one in quarantine. Max was one of several new arrivals. The *Blockalteste* here took little notice of them and their fellow prisoners did not welcome them either. In fact, it had been difficult to get their supper rations. The older residents pushed to get the best place in line. Max, still exhausted from the work and the roll call, and unaccustomed to this new barracks, ended up near the very end of the line and without any supper. He had a few bread crusts, though, still in his pockets so he began to try and find a place to sleep. The *Blockalteste* had not assigned any, so he wandered down the barracks, trying to see if he knew anyone or if one of the bunks had an empty space. He reached the end of the barracks without finding anything, noting that some men were forced to sleep on the floor. He didn't want to sleep on the floor so he kept walking up the other side of the building. The room was full of people, and, though they were exhausted, they used their last few minutes before curfew to speak among themselves, either to tell each other about the day, or to talk about life before the war, or to yell at their bunkmates to move over and make more room. But, just as he was about half way back to the door, Max noticed another sound. "*I am,*" someone was saying. "*You are. He is. She is. We are.*" It was English. And it was coming from somewhere above him. Ignoring all the curses he received, Max climbed up the bunk. He had thought it impossible that the doctor could live. In fact, if it hadn't been for Vlada's near obsession with the man, Max might have forgotten about him altogether. But as his head poked over the last bunk, Max saw him. He was sitting in his usual position, his right shoulder to the wall. Another man sat beside him. It was that man who had been speaking. He continued, conjugating verbs from the sound of it. "*They are.*" "*Very good,*" Bashir told him. And then he noticed Max's face there at the end of the bunk. "Max?" he asked. The other man stopped his recitation and looked to see who the Englishman was referring to. There were two other men on the bunk as well, and they instantly began to complain, telling Max that there was no room for him. Bashir ignored them, speaking instead to his pupil. "*Il est un ami. Il s'appelle Max Zeidl. Il parle allemand.*" *So the man is French,* Max thought. The Frenchman yelled something to the other two, something about the selection a few days ago. Then he turned to Max, motioning him up the rest of the way. "*Ich heiBe Henri Bresalier.*" He spoke German well, though with a definite accent. "Come up. You can sleep here. Just ignore the others. You speak English, too?" "No," Max told him. "We were in quarantine together." He climbed the rest of the way up to the bunk. The other two tried to push him back, but Henri stopped them. Bashir, he noticed, didn't move, though he followed everything with his eyes. "*Demande-lui, ou est Vlada,*" Bashir said, touching Henri's sleeve. Henri nodded and translated the request into German. "He wants to know where Vlada is." Max didn't quite know what to answer. Should he tell Bashir, through this Frenchman, all he suspected? "He is still in quarantine." Henri translated this back to French. "*Comment va-t-il?*" Bashir asked. "*Qui? Max ou Vlada?*" Henri shook his head. He apparently wasn't used to being an interpreter, switching back and forth between two languages. Max was used to it. He had used both Czech and German every day with his customers. Bashir shrugged, or at least it looked like a shrug. It was hard to tell since he didn't move one shoulder and the other was pinned to the wall. "*Tous les deux,*" he said. Henri sighed and turned back to Max. "Are you well? And this Vlada?" Max nearly laughed. "Well? Here? As much as I can be." His smile faded. "Vlada is. . . ." He still didn't know what to say. He wasn't even exactly sure what was going on with Vlada. It was only a suspicion. "He eats well enough," he said finally. Bashir caught his hesitation even as he waited for the translation, but he didn't have time to ask anymore questions. The *Blockalteste* of this barracks yelled that it was curfew. There was a scramble then as everyone tried to find enough room to lie down. It had been a long day, for all of them, and it only promised to be longer tomorrow. So Max tucked his bowl, wrapped with his shoes and coat, closer beside him and tried to ignore the cold, the hunger, and the elbows and knees that jabbed at him as he slept. Dax was appreciative of the new shift rotation, though she was even more tired now as she took her place at the helm than she had been the last three weeks. The new shift called for eight hours on duty, followed by four off, then four on and finally eight off. Half the crew's shifts were just the opposite, beginning with four on, four off, then eight on and finally the usual eight off. Dax now had some free time to spend with Worf, who's short break coincided now with the final four hours before her eight hour shift. It meant she slept less at this time, but she compensated by taking a nap at midnight when her short break began. The whole crew seemed to appreciate it, too. Everyone seemed a little more relaxed, and the grumbling she'd heard before had become less noticeable. People were still anxious to go home, but their moods were lighter now that they had some time to relax or catch up on their sleep. Dax checked the *Defiant*'s position and sipped her raktajino. They were just beginning to scan North America. It wouldn't take as long to cover all the area this time, since they could exclude the uninhabitable regions. But Dax didn't plan on taking it too fast either. She would still cover every inch of habitable land down there. By now she had refamiliarized herself well with Earth's geography. She remembered her flight training at the Academy, piloting a shuttle over the Rockies, which showed themselves to be a few inches taller in this time before the various large-scale wars dulled them down a bit. It would take a good part of her shift to finish the scan of this continent and Dax expected they'd cross the Atlantic while she was sleeping. She'd be back for Europe. Despite the nostalgia she felt noting the changes in Earth's geology, she still found herself yawning. Eight hours was hard, not as hard as sixteen, but still difficult when the task was unchanging. She and Kira chatted a little bit after the captain left for his break and Worf went off duty, but everyday there was less and less to talk about. Besides, there were some things that they didn't want to share with the whole bridge. Things like Julian. They would save that for dinner when Kira's shift ended. Dax thought about the time she and Kira had shared a table in Quark's drinking to Julian and O'Brien's memories when they thought they were dead before. It was a lot like then, except it was everyday and Kira had more nice things to say about Julian now. Dax still felt guilty that she'd never read the medical school diaries Julian had given her. She wondered now, though, if they would help her to understand him better. He'd changed so much since then. Kira had expressed an interest in reading them herself. Dax was glad that Kira had learned to appreciate and even like Julian. But she seemed to be taking his loss much better than Dax. At first, Jadzia had chalked it up to her experiences during the Occupation. She'd lost so many people she cared about. But Dax had lost people too, probably more. She had seven lifetimes of losing people, some who had still been alive, children she'd had to leave behind as her symbiont changed hosts, or even a widow, like Nalani Kahn. She had experienced loss. It never seemed to get easier for her, and she nearly cried herself to sleep every night after dinner remembering their faces and knowing that she would have to add Julian to the list. Sisko sighed and surveyed the room. Dax sat with her back to him as she returned to duty at the helm from her break. She had been very quiet lately, sticking only to her duties despite the monotony of flying the *Defiant* in seemingly endless orbits around the Earth. The computer, now that they had navigation up and running, really did most of the work. At least she looked a little more rested now. Worf was due on the bridge as well, but had yet to arrive. Ensign Dimitriov pored over the engineering console. It wasn't her specialty--engineers were still spread pretty thin--but she didn't complain as she tried to boost the quality of the sensor readings. She'd been doing just that for her full eight- hour shift already. Lieutenant Jordan was hunched over another console, the one Kira had left only a few hours ago. His head rested on his turned up palm. He hadn't moved in over a half an hour. Sisko was about to say something to him when the young man bolted upright. "I've got it!" he exclaimed, swiveling around in his chair. Everyone on the bridge heard him and turned. Sisko nearly jumped right out of his chair. Dax, too, spun hers around to face him. Both she and the captain met Jordan at his console. "It's very weak," he warned, and he was right. There was barely a signal at all. But it *was* there. "Helm," Sisko said, turning to Dax, who raced back to her seat, anticipating his next command, "hold position and establish a geosynchronous orbit." The ship slowed and the image on the viewscreen stopped its slow crawl across the display. Europe. The signal had come from the heart of Europe, an area they'd scanned at least four times already. Sisko straightened his uniform and tapped his comm badge. "O'Brien to the bridge." He waited for confirmation and then called for the major and Ensign Thomas to meet him in the mess hall in ten minutes. It took less than two minutes before the chief stepped out of the turbolift. Sisko, still standing over Jordan's station, called him over. "We're getting a signal. See if you can't amplify it somehow. We have to be sure it's one of ours and not some errant radio signal from the planet." He lowered his voice so the whole bridge wouldn't hear. "And I want to know if there are any lifesigns. Dax and I will be in the mess hall if you get any more information." He tapped the lieutenant on the shoulder. "You have the bridge, Lieutenant." The young man looked up at him with wide eyes. Then they narrowed as he realized there really wouldn't be that much to do. The ship wasn't going anywhere. O'Brien replaced him at his console, and Jordan walked confidently to the command chair. Sisko turned to Dax, waiting expectantly at the helm. "You coming, Old Man?" Major Kira and Ensign Thomas were already waiting inside when the captain and Dax arrived at the mess hall. They had to step aside for a few crewmen carrying their trays of food. Though they looked tired, they didn't look too upset at having to leave the mess hall in the middle of their meal. Major Kira on the other hand looked not a little perturbed at having been dragged out of bed. But Sisko knew that would fade as soon as she knew the reason for the meeting. "We picked up a signal," he said as soon as the last crewmember left and the door closed. At once, Kira's expression changed, and she was completely alert. Dax was already at the console at the front of the room, calling up the sensor map on the viewscreen there. Thanks to Thomas's research, the sensor maps now reflected the political boundaries of the era. Thomas, who had been sitting at one of the tables with Kira, stood immediately and walked closer to the viewscreen as if she didn't believe what was displayed there. One small dot of light was centered on the map. It wavered weakly and then flared a little brighter. "Germany?" she asked, obviously perplexed. She turned. "It's been awhile since my last physical, but isn't the doctor," she paused as she looked for the right word, "dark?" Sisko felt the pressure in his stomach starting up again. He lowered himself into the chair nearest him. The door opened before he could say anything else. O'Brien entered. Letting the ensign wait for a moment, Sisko turned to the engineer. "Is it ours?" "Yes, sir," O'Brien responded. He didn't look all that excited though. "We were able to clean it up a bit. It's Julian's signal, alright." After the ensign's remark about Bashir's dark complexion, Sisko wasn't as happy to hear that either. "Life signs?" he asked. O'Brien shook his head. "But that doesn't mean anything necessarily. We aren't getting any life signs at all anywhere near it. Nothing organic even, except wood." Sisko looked at him quizzically. "Wood?" O'Brien nodded. "And marble, though that's not organic. But there's a lot of it. Various metals and plastics, too." "Sounds like a laboratory," Thomas spoke up, drawing all attention back to her. "Sir, I doubt very much that the doctor is in Germany." Sisko agreed. "But his communicator is." Kira stood up impatiently. "Will someone please tell me what is going on? If he's not in Germany--wherever that is--where is he?" She turned to Thomas, "Isn't Germany one of the warring nations?" Thomas nodded her reply. "It was more than that." Sisko finished for her. He knew what she was getting at. "The Holocaust." Captain Sisko had given her exactly ten minutes to prepare a succinct and comprehensive explanation of just what the Holocaust was and what they were up against in trying to find the missing doctor. Personally, Ensign Thomas didn't think the odds were good. Actually, she knew they were very bad. But she wasn't ready yet to give up hope, not when it came to the Holocaust. She had a chance to save one of its victims, and she was going to do anything in her power to do so. She had first heard about the Holocaust when she was fourteen. She had read a book: *Elli: Coming of Age in the Holocaust* by Livia E. Bitton Jackson. Livia, or Elli as she was called at the time, was fourteen when she was sent to Auschwitz. Something must have connected between them, because Mylea was drawn to the story, and any other story she could find on the subject, from then on. She had to know more. She'd read countless accounts by survivors and visited a few of the major camps that were still standing as memorials to the victims. She sometimes wondered why she was so fascinated with such a grisly topic, whether she was just morbid or had some sick interest in gore and death. But she didn't feel it was like that. She felt it was more an attempt to know the victims, the survivors, and even the perpetrators. She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the enormity of the crime, of the hurt, the loss, the fear, or the hatred and cruelty. How could one person look at another person, so similar to himself, and wish him pain and torment and death? It was something she would never really understand. As she thought about what to say, she decided that it might not be too hard to explain it to the Bajoran major. The Cardassian Occupation of Bajor had been similar in many ways--though significantly different in others--to what the Nazis had done during World War II. They had used terror for control and had even set up labor camps where people were starved, tortured, and worked to death. Major Kira had even helped to liberate one of the worst of them: Gallitep. The ten minutes passed quickly, and the door to the mess hall opened again. The entire senior staff entered, including the captain, who was now off duty. The sensor readings from the bridge were channeled to the display terminal behind her. O'Brien had also managed to get some of the general computer systems running, like the library. Everyone was going to need it to brush up on their history. She felt like a school teacher when everyone sat at the tables, leaving her alone at the front of the room. All of a sudden, ten minutes seemed like not nearly enough time to prepare. But the captain was waiting for her to start. "The Holocaust," she began carefully, "is a pretty complex topic. I can't possibly tell you everything, but I'll try to hit on the main points. We've already talked about the war, about the National Socialists, so I won't begin there. We didn't talk really about their ideology per se, so that's probably a good place to start. The Nazis. . . ." She paused. It wasn't as easy to start there as it seemed. She tried again. "The Nazis' ideology was a racial one. Anti-Semitism, or hatred of Jews, was the backbone of it, but it was more complex than that. There was a whole hierarchy of races, ranging from pure Aryan--which could be characterized as blue-eyed, blond, and of Germanic stock--to Slavs, Gypsies, and Jews. All of these peoples, and even political opponents and social outcasts, were persecuted to some degree by the Nazis. But several of the groups, especially the Jews, were slotted for extermination." Lieutenant Commander Dax motioned with her hand to interrupt. "But isn't Judaism a religion? It's not a race." Thomas shook her head. "You're thinking about it like a rational person, Commander. You have to think like a Nazi. They didn't care about your religion. They considered it race, something hereditary that you couldn't change just by converting your beliefs." "When you say 'extermination,'" Kira broke in, "you mean 'genocide?'" Thomas nodded. "One of Hitler's main goals was to completely destroy the Jewish population of Europe. It even ranked higher than the war effort toward the end. And he went a long way toward succeeding, too. But that's getting ahead of ourselves." She walked to the computer console and pulled up a map of Europe from 1933. Germany was still well within her boarders. "The Nazis persecuted many groups, as I said: Communists, Gypsies, Democrats, Jehovah's Witnesses, homosexuals, the mentally and physically disabled, and so on. But their main concern, and ours quite frankly, was the Jews." "Julian's not Jewish," O'Brien pointed out, but he did look worried. "You're being rational, too, Chief," Thomas told him. Postponing the map, she addressed the computer, "Computer, show us an image of Doctor Julian Bashir." The computer hesitated for about five seconds and then put the image up on the viewscreen. "The Nazis were looking at this *racially.* They had a whole pseudo-science of race planned out. They would send scientists out to classify people by standards of racial purity. They'd check your hair color--how close you are to blond--your eye color, the shape of your head, the prominence of the nose, the color of the skin. If you look at him like that," she said, pointing to the image on the viewscreen, "using their standards. . . ." Captain Sisko cut her off, his face grimly set. He looked her right in the eye when he spoke, and she knew he understood. "He's a Jew." Glad she didn't have to pursue the issue, Thomas once again set the display to the map. "At first, the Nazis only had power within Germany," as she spoke, she highlighted the area on the map. "They started small, relieving some Jews of their jobs. And then all Jews of their civil rights. They were no longer allowed to shop in non-Jewish shops. Jewish children couldn't go to public schools. Jews couldn't go to certain parks or sit on certain benches. Then nearly all occupations were closed to them, and they lost their citizenship. They were only allowed to come out of their houses for a short time each day to shop for food and necessities. And at anytime they were vulnerable to harassment, humiliation, and violence." She changed the map, letting the highlighted area flow out from Germany into Austria. "As they gained power over other nations," then highlighted the outer rim of Czechoslovakia, the Sudetenland, and then the rest of the country, "they took their racial policies with them." The highlighted area moved to fill in most of Poland as well. "And then they went farther. Jews lost their homes and were forced to move into ghettos." The map widened to include Western Europe and the highlight of Germany engulfed more lands there, the Netherlands, Belgium, Norway, France. In addition, little pinpoints of light dotted the whole scene showing the many hundreds of ghettos. "The ghetto in Warsaw was the biggest, if I remember correctly. At its highest point, it had a population of over four hundred thousand. Several families lived together in each room. It was overcrowded. The sanitation was bad, and there was never enough food. Rations were ranked hierarchically, too. Germans got more than Czechs and Poles. Jews got less than anyone. Thousands died right in the streets. And there was no law against killing a Jew." Thomas had been facing them, changing the computer screen using a PADD. But she turned now to let that sink in for a moment. Leaving the ghettos highlighted, she set the computer to locate the camps with red, six-pointed stars. Only this time she used the sensors as far as their range. The library filled in the rest. "Then they even took away the ghetto. Jews were sent in trains meant for carrying cattle to concentration camps, labor camps, or killing centers. In the concentration and labor camps, a prisoner was expected to work, under grueling conditions and for long hours with very little food. And there was always the threat of violence from the guards. Many died of overwork, starvation, violence, or diseases caused by the poor sanitation. But the killing centers, extermination camps, like Belzec, Treblinka, and Sobibor," she pointed them out as she spoke, "were set up with the sole purpose of killing Jews. "The Nazis started by simply shooting Jews, either in town or in mass graves which they forced the Jews to dig away from town. But they found it simply too costly in bullets and troop morale, so they tried other methods. Carbon monoxide expulsions from combustion engines were too time-consuming and inefficient. They eventually hit on Zyklon B, a pesticide gas meant to kill rats and vermin. They tested it in Auschwitz in 1941 on 800 prisoners." She pointed to Auschwitz. "They were all dead within twenty minutes. Auschwitz went on to become the largest of the camps, both a concentration camp and a killing center. There were five gas chambers and crematoria for disposing of the corpses and also a slave population that averaged more than a hundred thousand. The total number of dead is still disputed today, but by all accounts at least one million Jews died here. Six million were killed in the Holocaust, along with around five million others." Thomas stopped to take a breath. It was all coming out in one big rush now. She could feel her heart beating faster, her chest becoming hot with anger. "They even tried to continue the killing as they were losing the war. They forced most of the prisoners on death marches inward toward Germany to other camps, killing anyone who couldn't keep up. Only the total defeat of Germany brought the slaughter to an end, but not until something like two-thirds of Europe's Jews had been killed." "And you think they have Bashir," Kira asked quietly. Her face was set hard, but her eyes were slightly puffy. "There's only one way to find out for sure," Thomas ventured, looking to the captain. "Like the Cardassians, the Nazis were meticulous record keepers." Sisko nodded and stood up. "If they've got the communicator, they probably have the paperwork to tell us where they got it. Do you speak German, Ensign?" Thomas pulled herself to attention. "Only a little, sir," she replied, having no intention of lying to him, even if it kept her off the away team. "Find someone who does." "Sir, the universal translators are still functioning," Worf suggested. "But you can't use them to read German, Commander," Sisko corrected. "Where *exactly* is the signal coming from? Can we get a good fix?" O'Brien stepped to the computer terminal. "If we patch the sensors in with the historical database the ensign's been using. . . ." He let his sentence trail off as he worked. His fingers moved silently over the controls for a few minutes before he proclaimed, "It's in Berlin. Computer, superimpose this signal on a scale map of Berlin, Germany, circa 1943." "Working," the computer droned. Thomas couldn't help but notice that it sounded tired. They all waited anxiously as the map slowly changed, drawing closer in on Berlin and filling in the many tiny streets one inch at a time. "Zoom in fifty percent," O'Brien ordered. The maze of tiny lines changed to more orderly patterns of streets and alleys. "Again, fifty percent." Buildings became clear, complete with labels for the more important landmarks. The badge's signal was emanating from Kaiser Wilhelm University. Sisko turned to Dax. "Lose the spots, Old Man, you're going with her." He waited for Dax to nod before he brought his attention back to Ensign Thomas. "You'll need to dress appropriately. I don't think they'll let you just walk in and rummage through their files. You'll need something with power to back it up." "Gestapo might do, " Thomas guessed, trying to remember if there were any female Gestapo agents. "Sir, request permission to join the away team," Worf snapped, standing. Sisko and Thomas turned at the same time to give him an incredulous look. "No offense, sir," Thomas said, "but you wouldn't last two minutes." To soften what she was saying she swept her hand to encompass everyone in the mess hall. "Even if we discount your forehead and the major's nose, there isn't one of us in this room who would qualify as being of superior racial stock. Chief O'Brien would probably come the closest. Dax, the major, and I might have a chance though." Kira stood and gave the captain a determined stare. "Then let me go." "First," Sisko said, raising a finger and turning toward the viewscreen which still showed the city map of Berlin with Bashir's badge marked out in bright yellow, "we don't have a doctor to fix your nose." He turned to face her again. Thomas noted that he looked like the teacher now. "And second, I don't believe the Nazis were into equality of the sexes. We'll need a man on this mission. I would prefer someone from Security, someone who can read German. We can't just let them keep the badge. We've been over this territory before and got nothing from it. They must be tinkering with it. They've got a weak signal, we can't let them get any more." "We should replace it with something, Captain," Thomas advised. "They'll notice if it's just gone in the morning." "We can replicate another one," O'Brien suggested, "a fake." Dax's face began to light up. "It'll have to be just like the one they have, even if they've torn it apart. We'll have to beam it up first and then replicate it." "Do the same with any records you find," Sisko ordered. "I would think night the best time." He looked to Thomas for confirmation. She couldn't answer right away. She really didn't know. The building would probably be locked, perhaps even guarded. But there would certainly be less people than in the daytime. She nodded, hoping that it was the right decision. "Sir," Worf called from the back of the room. He held a PADD in one hand which he seemed to be studying, "Lieutenant Novak is fluent in German, both verbal and written." "Good," Sisko acknowledged a little more cheerfully. "Sign him up." Kira's voice was calm when she spoke and all the excitement was gone from her face. "It's gone." Every head in the room snapped around to see where she was pointing. There on the viewscreen was the map of Berlin just as they had left it, only now the sensor image of the badge's signal was indeed gone. O'Brien rushed over to the console. Everyone waited as he diagnosed the problem. "We haven't lost the signal exactly," he finally said. "We've lost the sensors. Too much power. They weren't up to it. Shorted out. We should be able to fix it, but it's going to take awhile." "And we can't beam down without the sensors," Dax concluded. O'Brien shook his head. "Not unless you want to risk beaming into a wall. Besides, we'd need the sensors to beam you back up." Thomas looked to the captain for his decision. His face was still calm, set in stone. He spoke with a soft voice, but she could hear the disappointment in it. "I guess you'll have more time to prepare your team then, Ensign." Thomas nodded. The captain moved on. "Keep me informed, Chief. I want those sensors repaired before tomorrow night." Then, without another word, he left the mess hall. She noticed he didn't head toward the turbolift that would take him to the bridge. To Be Continued.... (This one was long, so the next one is short) -- --Gabrielle I'd much rather be writing! http://www.stormpages.com/gabrielle/trek/ The Edge of the Frontier http://www.stormpages.com/gabrielle/doyle/ This Side of the Nether Blog: http://www.gabriellewrites.blogspot.com -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Awards Tech Support http://www.trekiverse.us/ASCAwards/commenting/ No Tribbles were harmed in the running of these Awards ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek .creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? 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