Chalk Outline

Posted on Tue Aug 25th, 2026 @ 12:44am by Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Commander Ash Randall & Commander Zhora zh'Roothi & Lieutenant Commander Kuzos & Lieutenant Commander Sora Bernadotte & Lieutenant Commander Aidan Datari & Lieutenant Urvasi Elandorn & Lieutenant Rio Kholin MD & Lieutenant Amber Laurell & Lieutenant (J.G.) Dylan Blake & Ensign Sayori Nakai & Ensign Mirakylin Yumerieva & Lieutenant (J.G.) Oakham Khen Ziren

9,818 words; about a 49 minute read

Mission: 10. Rumble
Location: Iocarro / U.S.S. Enterprise
Timeline: 2439-10-20, 12:15

Captain’s Log, Stardate 116801.4, Commodore Wilkan Targaryen recording:

Enterprise is holding position at Iocarro after our away team was trapped below ground during a violent seismic event. Sensors are picking up localized life signs far below, but they've been swept three hundred years into the past, just prior to the extinction-level core collapse that destroyed the planet. We have only a short while left to save our crew before they are lost to history.

Lieutenant Anzai Sulu’s fingers danced across the LCARS interface, the rhythmic clicking of her console serving as a desperate shield against the overwhelming static bleeding into her mind. As a Betazoid hybrid, the Bridge was rarely quiet, but right now it was a sensory nightmare. The suffocating, high-voltage anxiety radiating off Commander Bernadotte (spiked with the bitter taste of Temporal Investigations paranoia) clashed violently with the unyielding wall of Commodore Targaryen’s quiet resolve. The emotional feedback pounded against Anzai's temples, flaring her latent empathic sensitivity and threatening to trigger the volatile temper she spent every waking second trying to suppress.

The crushing weight of her family legacy sat heavily on her shoulders. Hikaru Sulu’s blood ran through her veins, and her father’s strict, unforgiving high standards dictated her every breath. If she faltered here, if she let the Bridge's rising panic breach her internal defenses, she would validate every whisper that she was just privileged Starfleet royalty riding on her name. That was a luxury she didn't have. Forcing her raw emotion down into a tight knot, Anzai channeled her focus into the raw telemetry. Reconfiguring the sensors to isolate the chroniton gradients, she found a clean, mathematical elegance amidst the temporal storm.

"I've isolated three potential fractures in the temporal field," Anzai announced to the Bridge at large, isolating the flickering nodes on the central sensor grid. "The distortion surrounding the city isn't uniform. The core’s mounting pressure is creating localized chroniton shears, leaving lower-density pockets near the outer basalt caverns." She transferred the boundary vectors to the forward viewscreen, opening the floor for the rest of the Bridge crew to weigh in. "If pattern enhancers are deployed at these specific boundary nodes, the chroniton interference drops by forty-two percent. That gives us a narrow window to pull the team out without having to punch directly through the peak of the temporal storm..."

"How narrow?" Blake dared to ask. "Given the positioning for both parties they're going to need to travel a fair distance to reach those pockets."

"At current rates of chroniton drift, the window stays open for approximately seventeen minutes once the enhancers are placed," Anzai replied, her voice tightly controlled, though the edge of her strain leaked through her crisp delivery. Her fingers tapped a fast sequence across the console, adjusting the schematic on the viewscreen to highlight the distances. "Commander zh'Roothi is positioned closest to Node Beta, less than four hundred meters through the lower drainage flues; however," she paused, zooming in on the dense, labyrinths of the inner city where the rest of the team’s tricorder signatures flickered faintly, "the away team is roughly one point two kilometers away from Node Alpha, navigating dense, populated subterranean strata." She looked over toward Blake, her gaze intense and unblinking. "It is a tight margin, but our only option."

Sora shook her head. "Not good enough. If we can't contact anyone down there other than the Commander, we have no way to tell them to put down the enhancers to begin with. And even then, reconfiguring the transporters to compensate for the temporal fluctuations takes time."

Suddenly, she yelped out in pain, immediately followed by a long string of curses in a variety of languages. "Someone get me some painkillers," the Terran finally managed to say through heavy breaths. "And before you ask, no. I do not need to go to sickbay or anything like that, it's just a migraine." That was a lie, but there was no time to find out what was actually going on with her. She had a suspicion, based on things she had learned and experienced during her time in Temporal Investigations. Regardless, the first priority now had to be saving the landing party.

"You are relieved, Commander," Wilkan stated firmly, not breaking his gaze with the telemetry on the viewscreen. "Report to the Infirmary immediately. That is an order, Sora." He tapped the armrest of his chair, opening an encrypted channel. "Targaryen to Doctor Kholin. Doctor, meet Commander Bernadotte in the Infirmary. She is experiencing severe neurological distress. Perform a full diagnostic sweep and report your findings directly to me."

Closing the channel, Wilkan pivoted back toward the center of the Bridge, his focus shifting back to the ticking clock on the viewscreen and the seventeen-minute window hanging over his away team.

"Lieutenant Sulu," Wilkan addressed the Ops station smoothly, "hold the node coordinates and prepare the transport buffer profiles. Lieutenant Blake, take over Ops. We keep moving."

"Temporal Regulation 17, section 3," Sora stated flatly, not moving from her seat. "Under the authority given by that regulation to the ranking Temporal Agent, the order to relieve Lieutenant Commander Bernadotte from duty is to be disregarded." She turned in her chair to look at Wilkan. "Nobody here has remotely my kind of experience with a temporal anomaly like the one we are facing. We need to get our people out, preferably without creating a massive paradox. So, no. I am staying right here. Doctor Kholin can come up here if you insist, but I will not relinquish my post."

The Bridge went deathly still as Commodore Wilkan Targaryen sat motionless in the center seat, his posture hardening into slate as he held Sora's defiant gaze. "You are no longer a Temporal Agent, Commander Bernadotte," Wilkan said, his voice dropping into a low, icy register that vibrated across the quiet deck. "You are the Operations Manager aboard the Enterprise. Your authority derives from Starfleet Command, and on this ship, it flows directly through me."

Lieutenant Rrawran, the imposing Rorworr Security Officer, stepped forward instantly. Soft-footed but unyielding, the canine giant crossed the upper deck, his ears pinned back in silent focus.

"Rrawran, escort Commander Bernadotte directly to the Infirmary," Wilkan ordered, his tone absolute. "She is confined to medical until Doctor Kholin clears her for duty. If she resists, use whatever restraint is necessary, stun her if you have to. Galatea, disable the Commander's access until further notice. Command functions are isolated anywhere within a meter of her location. No computer interface is authorized either."

Rrawran placed a massive, heavy hand gently but firmly on Sora’s shoulder, his low rumble echoing in her chest. "Commander. Please."

Wilkan pivoted smoothly back toward the forward viewscreen, leaving no room for further debate.

"Lieutenant Blake, take Operations," Wilkan commanded. "Lieutenant Sulu, maintain sensor lock on those temporal shears. Doctor Kholin will handle the Commander in Sickbay. We have an away team to save."

Sora narrowed her eyes, her Terran upbringing clearly beginning to surface. "That, Commodore, is where you are mistaken. Being a Temporal Agent is not a temporary assignment. Once you have been given that title, you keep it for as long as you are a serving member of Starfleet. Temporal Investigations operates quite similarly to Section 31 in that regard. Galatea, take note of the following. With the forced dismissal of the ranking Temporal Agent, any and all violations of the Temporal Prime Directive, or other related protocols, caused by the continuation of this operation are solely the responsibility of Commodore Wilkan Targaryen." She turned to Rrawran. "No need for you to come along, I know my way. I also know my way to my quarters, which is where I will go once Doctor Kholin gives me the analgesic I have asked for. I have some letters to write."

Without waiting for as much as an acknowledgement, Sora walked towards the turbolift. "Deck 8 direct," she called out as the doors closed behind her.

"Rrawran, go with her," Wilkan commanded, his deep voice slicing through the quiet like a steel blade. "My orders stand. Escort her directly into Doctor Kholin's hands in Sickbay and remain stationed outside until she is cleared. She is confined to medical, not her quarters."

Lieutenant Rrawran issued a low, resonant growl of compliance, his broad, canine-featured head dipping once before his long, powerful stride carried him into the adjacent turbolift to follow the descending car.

Pivoting back toward the tactical display, Wilkan’s gaze hardened. "Ziren, take Tactical."

"Sir," the Bajoran-Cardassian hybrid responded smartly as she took over the vacated station.

The turbolift doors opened once more to Urvasi and Mira coming onto the bridge. They both shifted to the right as they announced themselves. "Bridge, Lieutenant Elandorn, Reporting for Watch change at Helm." "Bridge, Ensign Yumerieva, Engineering Support Position Request."

Commander Randall spared a few seconds of time to watch Lt. Commander Bernadotte get escorted off the bridge and silently wondered, to herself, what the issue was and had to agree that she had no idea. "All options prepped, sir. Pattern enhancers ready on your order." She stated, quietly.

The atmosphere following Bernadotte's departure felt charaged with jangled nerves and heavy tension, the onimous countdown ticking down in one of screens at the Operation Station did little to ease Blake's concerns as he took over. His gaze lingered over the Terran datachip Sora had installed previously and hoped it remained isolated from the ships main computer as previously instructed. He trusted Galatea to maintain a tight restraint over such matters and returned his focus on helping those on the surface.

Urvasi quietly relieved Lt. jg Merikson from his watch. She asked him to take over standby at the John Harriman prepared for rescue/support. She settled into her seat with a glance and smile to Dylan, then checked over controls and assumed piloting the Enterprise.

Catching her eye Dylan returned a rather tight smile as his attention remained focused to task.

Mira went over to the not manned aux engineer monitoring station beside Ash. She smiled with tail move for 'ready' and sat down. She began checking its configuration as well as glancing over to see what Ash was monitoring to help understand what her configuration needed to be.

"Pattern enhancer locks are confirmed on Node Alpha and Node Beta," Anzai reported, fingers dancing over her console. "Chroniton shears are stable, but the window starts the moment those enhancers deploy." Before the Commodore could issue a single order, a violent alarm rang from the Science console. Sulu looked at the display and slunk into her chair, "Commodore, a rapid geothermal escalation is superheating the lower flues. Ambient ionization will fry the confinement beams. Node Beta is unusable, and Commander zh'Roothi is trapped inside."

Wilkan’s eyes locked onto the telemetry. "Cross-reference the disruption with Zhora’s shuttle."

"Analyzing," Galatea responded seamlessly. "Commander zh'Roothi is forty-eight meters from primary pressure manifold four-B. Her shuttle retains sufficient auxiliary power to force a manual bypass."

"Blake, punch a signal directly through to the XO," Wilkan ordered coldly. "Direct Zhora to override manifold four-B and vent the excess heat into the upper flues immediately. Clear that ionization for transporter lock."

The Lieutenant nodded at the request: "Right away,"

Commander Randall turned to look the direction of the Commodore. "DTI has been apprised of the current situation as you requested, sir. The Nostradamus is four hours out." The Engineer informed him, quietly.

Four hours. A heavy, quiet melancholy settled upon the Enterprise's Commander as he contemplated the Nostradamus. Starfleet’s temporal watchdogs were so far out, leaving him to navigate this unraveling nightmare alone on the edge of a blade - bearing the full, crushing weight of every life, every paradox, and every choice on his shoulders. He swallowed the exhaustion, his broad-shouldered frame remaining absolute as he issued crisp, measured commands across the deck.

"Duly noted, Ash," Wilkan replied, his deep voice carrying a cold, clinical weight that instantly restored order to the Bridge. "Urvasi, adjust our orbit to hold us dead-center above the distortion, give us the cleanest angle for Transporter lock. Ash, direct power from non-essential systems straight to the structural integrity field and primary buffers. Yumerieva, assist the Chief; monitor those power draws and keep the emitters from overloading under the temporal drag."

Urvasi called out, "Aye Aye sir, I'm on it.... 25 seconds mark."

The Chief Engineer glanced the direction of the Commodore as she began to carry out his orders. "Yes sir, in progress now." She stated, as she quickly worked to carry things out.

Mira called out, "Aye Aye, Sir." She shifted her console readouts and controls specifically for those emitters, then put the last eight inches of her tail onto the deck. While she did not have vibration sense, her tail was highly sensitive for its last eight inches, and so she would feel the changes in the vibrations of the deck to check on the emitter status besides the panel instruments.

Wilkan turned toward Science console, "Nakai, cross-reference Sulu's sensor data with the chroniton fluctuations and track any rapid shifts in the local shear vectors. Ziren, keep a continuous lock on Node Alpha and stand by to pulse the deflector array to clear secondary ionization," he looked at Tactical before returning to the viewer. "We stick to the countdown..."

Urvasi called out, "Bridge, Helm, Best Position achieved." Her tail moved down low while its last foot moved slowly back and forth, which showed the concentration of Urvasi upon instruments and subtle shifts of the Enterprise to keep the best possible open transporter corridor available.

Ziren nodded firmly, her eyes never leaving her data. "Maintaining lock," she reported, though her voice indicated it wasn't easy. Deflector pulse standing by."

"On it," Sayori's voice came in over a comlink to the astrometrics lab. "Feeding results back to Sulu's console."

Anzai Sulu’s fingers flew across the science console, using the crisp rhythm of the interface to anchor herself against the telepathic static washing over the Bridge. The residue of Sora’s Terran defiance still clashed violently with the unyielding wall of Commodore Targaryen’s authority, flaring Anzai's Betazoid empathy and testing the volatile temper she fought so hard to suppress. She forced her raw emotions into cold, precise focus. Channeling her hybrid sensitivity into the telemetry, she locked onto the sensor grid.

"Commodore, manifold four-B has been bypassed!" Anzai announced, her voice ringing out crisp, clear, and utterly devoid of the strain clawing at her throat. "Sub-surface phaser discharge confirmed from Commander zh'Roothi's position. Geothermal venting is underway... ionization in the lower flues is dropping rapidly!" She reconfigured the sensor grid, isolating the sudden shift in atmospheric density as the trapped heat erupted into the upper caverns. "Node Beta's signal is fading," Anzai continued, her brow furrowing as she watched the primary readouts shift. "The thermal wash is dispersing the secondary chroniton build-up, but that field was stabilizing the local spatial pocket! Without those chronitons dampening the ambient shear vectors, the structural integrity of that lower vault is failing fast... the Robert April is gone, and our window to pull the away team out is closing much faster than anticipated."

Commodore Wilkan Targaryen stood like a monolith in the center of the Bridge. He didn't blink as the report came in, he was focused on the golden schematics of the planet's subterranean strata flickered against the crimson bloom of geothermal activity. If he felt the weight of Sora's parting words (the bitter threat of Temporal Investigations protocol and the ominous shadow of the approaching USS Nostradamus) he gave no outward sign, instead he remained cool, calm, and collected.

"Understood, Lieutenant," Wilkan said, his deep voice cutting cleanly through the hum of the Bridge, the alarms, and console chimes. He took two deliberate steps forward, standing directly behind the Ops and Helm stations, his presence a steadying force against the mounting tension.

"Commander Randall, lock onto Commander zh'Roothi's signal the instant the ionization clears the primary threshold," Wilkan commanded, turning his gaze toward Engineering. "You have transport operations; grab her the second the buffer confirms continuity before those shear vectors collapse the channel entirely." He pivoted back toward the primary sensor display, "Lieutenant Sulu, track that structural degradation. I want the exact moment Node Alpha reaches peak stability before the dispersal wipes out our lock on the rest of the away team."

"Aye, captain." Ash responded while she took control of transporter operations.

Wilkan folded his hands behind his back, looking out at the chaotic readouts on the forward screen. The timeline was collapsing, the temporal storm was destabilizing, and the starship beneath his feet was straining against the drag of a fractured reality. But as he stood on the command deck of the Enterprise, his posture remained rigid and composed.

"Our margin just narrowed," Wilkan stated softly, the cold steel in his voice leaving no room for doubt. "Bring our people home."

"Pattern confirmed and stable with redundant buffering. Engaging transport." The Chief engineer announced in an, abnormally, loud voice that was quite uncharacteristic for the, normally quiet and understated Tuansee. "Transporter malfunction!" Ash announced, loudly, a heartbeat later, while she worked, feverishly, to maintain lock.

"Come on Ash," Blake muttered lowly feeling his gut twist uncomfortably having promised the XO they'd extract her to safety. "Rerouting emergency power to the the transporters," he called, desperately hoping between them they could retrieve the Andorian.

Wilkan leaned forward, his dark eyes locked on the viewscreen as his fingers tapped a rapid, silent sequence into the touch-interface on his armrest. Bypassing standard command protocols, he opened a deeply encrypted, isolated subroutine, entering raw coordinate vectors and power override codes directly into the primary deflector array and warp field coils.

Suddenly, the overhead lighting flickered violently, dipping into a dim amber before snapping back as the Enterprise's power grid groaned under a massive, unexplained energy drain. Consoles across the Bridge hummed with a harsh, deep vibration.

"Power draw spike detected across primary field emitters," Galatea reported seamlessly, her calm, synthesized voice echoing over the mounting warning chimes. "Auxiliary reserves fluctuating."

Wilkan didn't look up from his armrest interface, his face an unreadable mask of cold, absolute focus as he authorized the final power transfer sequence.

"Maintain the grid," Wilkan stated softly, his posture rigid as the deck plates shuddered beneath his boots. "Execute."

Kael led the way back up through the narrow exhaust flue, the hot sulfur air pressing against his scales like a damp blanket. Down below, the crashed metal bird lay half-buried in the shadows of the lower vault. Through a gap in the iron grating near the ceiling, the shuttle’s emergency central computer pulsed with a sudden surge. Its sub-harmonic speakers vibrated against the surrounding basalt wall, broadcasting through its active translation matrix.

“Warning. Auxiliary power reserves at twenty-four percent,” a flat, synthesized voice echoed from the metal hull below, translated into clear, guttural Iocarran. “Environmental seals compromised. Structural integrity critical.”

Vanya froze instantly, pinning Oron against the damp conduit wall. Kael flattened his crest tight against his skull, peering down through the grate.

Below, the blue-skinned woman paused her pacing along the inverted ceiling, her hand hovering near the flickering console.

“Sensor sweep incomplete,” the computer’s voice continued, buzzing with static. “Localized chroniton interference detected.”

"It speaks stone," Oron whispered, his dry voice raspy with panic. "The bird... it talks like us."

"It's her machine," Kael murmured, watching the blue woman tap the glowing interface to silence the warning.

"We need to go," Vanya urged, pulling at Kael's arm as heavy iron boots echoed along the upper catwalks, "before they come for her... or us!"

Inside the wreckage Zhora had shed her uniform jacket as the ambient temperature rose beyond comfortable tolerance. Stripped down to a sleeveless vest she felt no respite from the heavy heat that had increased remarkably since speaking to the Enterprise.

"Where?" she asked the computer softly not expecting a straight answer as power continued to ebb away much time the remaining until doomsday.

The computer’s console flickered violently, its amber LCARS display warping through a burst of static before settling into a degraded schematic of the surrounding geology.

"Warning," the synthesized voice chimed, "Thermal sensors detect rapid geothermal accumulation in the primary lower conduit. Ambient temperature increasing by three-point-two degrees per five minute interval." A harsh chime punctuated the console's diagnosis as the display flashed crimson against the shuttle's buckled hull. "Containment failure at the primary geothermal core," the computer continued, its mechanical tone echoing into the vault. "Geothermal grid stability is at 12%. Core rupture estimated in 84 minutes. Structural collapse of subterranean strata is imminent."

"Tell me something I didn't already know," the Andorian murmured.

The communication array crackled into life, its channel hissing and popping until a voice could be heard vibrating through the speakers. "E-prise to zh'Roothi, do you c-c-copy?"

"I read you Enterprise," Zhora replied mildly surprised to be speaking to Blake instead of Wilkam or Sora, none the less it was a relief to hear another voice and hopefully the bones of plan to escape this subterranean oven.

Only it wasn't an escape plan the Lieutenant delivered - at least not yet. She needed to clear a path first and quickly before the window to extraction slipped by. "This had better work," Zhora directed to the channel while wiping her sweating brow, "I have enough power for one attempt," she reported having bought the weapons online to blast open the manifold and redistribute the building heat. "If this goes sideways don't bother trying to retrieve what's left, just focus on recusing the others."

"We'll get you all out, by hook or by crook," Blake's disembodied voice responded the chroniton particles didn't diminish the Lieutenant's optimism.

"Careful, I might just hold you to that," Zhora smirked despite herself. "Alright, target locked, firing."

The wreckage hummed into life, discharging a phaser pulse into the depths below, its orange glow flashed dazzlingly bright in the darkness before fading as quickly. A heavy silence fell over the chamber before a deep, rumbling groan rose from somewhere beneath the shuttle, growing louder as it drew closer. Cracks began to appear in the cavern floor as the built pressure found its release, swallowing the Robert April whole.

Inside the shuttle's cockpit Zhora lunged for a handhold as the ship began to list before tipping with frightening speed from its perch and into the void below. Her fingers snagged the seat restraints dangling from above, still attached to the inverted pilot's chair and hung on grimly as the Robert April spilled over the edge.

Outside the shattered windshield the sheer basalt flashed past as the shuttle went into free fall taking its Andorain passenger into the depths where they would both be pulverised on impact.

"Blake!" Zhora screamed as her feet rose clear of their purchase, instantly her arms strained against the harness webbing. "Now would be a good time!"

Suddenly the falling shuttle grazed the wall sending it into a wild spin. Her hands already damp with sweat slipped on the belt as Zhora was tossed around anew, striking soundly upon the console that flickered feebly. Instinctively her fingers jerked open, her semi conscious body floated free momentarily before being surrounded in the bright lights of the transporter.

The heavy, iron-reinforced doors slammed shut with a thundering, hollow boom, sealing the away team inside the Council’s inner precinct hall. Thick copper coils thrummed violently within the basalt walls, casting erratic orange light over the ancient chamber. With every passing second, the sulfurous, suffocating heat radiated ever more aggressively from the bedrock below, threatening to roast the air right out of their lungs. Sweat glistened on every brow as the chamber's ambient temperature continued its relentless climb.

Elevated upon the central dais stood First Secretary Kirifri Cafruna, flanked by the seated Council. Her translucent skin reflected the amber glow, her delicate, fan-like crest drawn tight in rigid composure. Her dark, obsidian eyes fixed upon the Starfleet officers with the hardened, desperate suspicion of a leader bracing for an inevitable end. As the armed guards forced the team to a halt, Kirifri descended a single step. She gestured toward them, her raspy voice carried by the ancient acoustics.

"You return in chains, surface-dwellers," Kirifri declared, the universal translator lending a cold, mechanical edge to her words. "My guards report that you tampered with our iron valves, yet the deep strata groans louder, the heat rises unchecked, and you speak openly of our city's death. Explain what you have done to the Great Hearth before this Council seals you into the stone to burn!"

"Are you going to listen Kirifri? because your guards are only telling you half a story. Did they tell you we reduce the heat at the iron value? But more work needs to be done. Every second we stand here reduces your chances of survival. You must let us get back so we can continue to repair your system. it has been badly negated for years." Kuzos stated boldly.

Kirifri’s obsidian eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits, her fan-like crest twitching with suppressed fury at the Vorta’s unyielding defiance. A harsh, collective gasp rippled through the seated Council members as several guards slammed the butts of their brass-plated polearms onto the flagstones in a synchronized demand for order.

"Neglected?" Kirifri rasped, the word slicing through the suffocating haze like a blade. She descended another step, towering over the dais edge as the chamber's rising heat warped the air around her dark robes. "You dare lecture this Council on neglect? We have bled for a thousand generations to preserve what your kind scorched into dust! We pieced together these conduits with our bare hands while the surface burned from your Dominion's onslaught!" She raised a single, clawed hand, staying the guards who had begun to step forward with leveled weapons. Her gaze flicked over the scorched, sweat-drenched Starfleet officers - from Aidan’s bruised ribs to Kuzos’s favoring arm - before locking back onto the Vorta.

"You speak of survival, yet the bedrock shudders beneath our boots," Kirifri hissed, her crest flaring in a sudden, sharp display of absolute authority. "If you reduced the heat at the secondary valve, it was merely a temporary hush against an inferno. Prove your words are not light as ash, surface-dweller. What is your proposal for the Great Hearth before the stone swallows us all?"

Aidan nodded in confirmation. "It is temporary," he agreed, his words slow through carefully maintained breathing, "we were going to suggest to be taken to the main valve and conduct repairs but a medical emergency delayed us. We were brought back here without the opportunity to explain." He paused, casting feverish eyes on the woman. "We have injured in our team, we would work better if these are treated. We will do our best to save your city but we need all the help we can get. We need a map of your city and an overlay of the critical systems and where we can bleed the energy to."

The Trill continued to explain what he thought needed doing while trying to ignore the heat as best as he could. "We need water," he added, "both to help cool your systems and to cool us... We need to devise a system to have water cool your piping and a way to reclaim the vapours so the water can be reused."

Amber stepped forward. “With all due respect, if you want to save your people then you need us. We need as many of your people who know these systems to provide help, plus you need them to learn how to maintain your systems once we’re gone, or you’ll just end up like this again further into the future.”

"If you want to save your people, your culture then you need to trust us and let us do what we can to prevent disaster." Kuzos stated bluntly to Kirifri.

Beside her on the elevated dais, several council members began whispering in hushed, agitated tones, their fan-like crests fluttering in tense disagreement. One elderly councilor leaned forward, pointing a trembling finger at Kuzos. "They speak of water we do not have, First Secretary! To flood the main conduits would drain the thermal reservoirs of the upper districts!"

"And to do nothing leaves us with no districts at all," Kirifri cut in sharply, her raspy voice silencing the council with absolute finality. She stepped down from the dais, her dark robes brushing the hot flagstones as she approached Aidan and Amber. Her gaze lingered on Aidan’s tight posture and the subtle strain in his breathing before flicking to Kuzos's Starfleet uniform: a strange contrast against the Vorta features of the empire that had forced her people underground.

"You wear the uniform of explorers, yet you carry the face of our ancient butchers," Kirifri said, though the sharp hostility in her tone had given way to a cold, desperate pragmatism. "Yet you stand here choking in our heat, offering your hands to fix what the Dominion scorched generations ago." She turned toward the captain of her guard, making a swift, sweeping gesture with her hand. "Lower your weapons. Fetch water skins for the strangers, and summon Chief Overseer Vael to the central conduit chamber."

The guard captain hesitated, his brass-plated polearm still raised. "First Secretary..."

"Now, Captain!" Kirifri commanded, her crest flaring wide. She turned back to face the away team, her expression carved from stone. "You will have your map, and you will have our overseers. Make no mistake: if the Great Hearth fails, these doors will remain sealed, and we will all burn together."

"The water used to cool the systems will be reclaimed," Aidan repeated, carefully stepping up to Kuzos' side. "Vorta he may be, but he is a trusted member of our crew. I trust him with my life," he continued slowly through moderated breathing, "I trust him with my child's life." That had to mean something, right? "Also, I consider him a friend." Gradually he was switching to the native language rather than rely on the UT. The more he heard it spoken the more he could piece it together to try it himself. He considered it a matter of respect and trust. "We just need to find a way to filter the water after reclamation so it can both be used for consumption and continue to cool your systems. Our ship is in orbit, if we can contact them, they can help us do this...."

A subtle, collective murmur rippled through the seated Council at the unexpected sound of their native speech spoken by an off-worlder, though Kirifri’s impassive expression barely changed. "Your tongue learns quickly, Science Officer," Kirifri rasped softly, her fan-like crest relaxing by a fraction as she met his feverish gaze. "A gesture of respect, or a clever tactic. But words, even in our own language, cannot quench the heat rising beneath Sector Three."

She glanced down at the water skins being brought forward by two tension-filled guards, then back to the Starfleet officers. "Our reservoirs are finite, but if your reclamation proposal can preserve even a fraction of what we vent, Chief Overseer Vael will give you access to the primary conduit array," Kirifri declared, her tone settled into stark pragmatic reality. "As for your ship in the sky... the upper strata is locked in a dense storm of ionized radiation. No signal passes through." She gestured toward the heavy iron doors as they groaned open, revealing the shimmering, sulfurous corridor beyond. "Drink, gather your strength, and follow Captain Tarek to the central node. Prove that your Vorta commander and your Starfleet tech can hold back the Great Hearth. You have your chance."

Aidan gratefully accepted the water and sipped it carefully without spilling any. "I learn languages by trade," he answered, "I prefer to learn as a manner of respect. The more I hear, the better it goes, it is not a tactic." He was still waiting for their medic to help him with his fractured ribs. "We only have this chance to save all of us, and the reclamation will work. If you vent to the surface, we can even create a second reclamation there, perhaps it will help with surface irrigation."

Kuzos walked over and grabbed some of the waterskins with his good hand. "Let's go. We have a job to do and it's up to us to do it. We can't count on the Enterprise. Lead the way Captain Tarek,"

"Not before your injuries are seen to," Aidan countered, almost firmly. "We can all do our job better when not injured. She said a healer was to get here to see to us. I intend to allow him or her to do so and trust that we will be healed."

"Aidan. I am fine." Kuzos countered, "I do appreciate your concern about my health, but time is of the essence and the sooner we can get started to correct and repair the problem the sooner these people can stop living in fear."

Not having the energy or the breath to argue, Aidan simply shook his head in disagreement. In his opinion the time spent to heal was worth the small delay, especially if they had able and full use of their body to work hard later. And if anything, the Trill was determined to prove his words true. He hated to be made into a liar and have this be the first one in his entire life.

Kuzos wasn't blind and he considered himself a good commander. He saw Aidan shake his head. "I have no want or desire to argue with you Aidan. We will wait for the healer to arrive and treat our injuries. Does that meet with your approval?"

"Yes sir," the Trill answered formally, "thank you." Sherlock, having carefully landed on his bare shoulder, chirped and echoing approval. The dragon's eyes were no longer red and white with alarm, but had now reduced to an agitated mix of orange and blue specks.

Amber smiled warmly. “Thank you for this, we will do everything we can to save your people. We don’t intend to perish here, and we wouldn’t let your civilization die.”

Captain Tarek gave a silent, grim nod toward two guards, who quickly withdrew down the vaulted hall to summon the district's head healer. Kirifri watched the away team with unreadable obsidian eyes, her fan-like crest drawn back into a position of watchful waiting as the iron doors remained propped open.

The oppressive heat in the chamber continued its steady, suffocating climb, but the immediate threat of execution had dissolved into a tense, fragile truce.

Tarek stepped forward, resting a hand on the pommel of his sidearm while holding out a rolled parchment scroll—a hand-drawn layout of the city's ancient, subterranean piping.

"The healer will meet us at the junction room outside the central conduit chamber," Tarek rasped, his voice deep and rough from years of breathing sulfurous air. "We do not wait here while the bedrock cooks. You will drink, you will walk, and you will be treated while Overseer Vael opens the primary access hatches. Move."

Aidan took the scroll and studied it as they walked, occasionally sipping the remarkably cool water to keep himself hydrated. "Barbax, scan these images and overlay in the scans you've taken so far. See if you can find the most critical areas and those most suitable for a reclamation installation. B'Ree, you and I are going to figure out a way to get a water cooling and reclamation system that will both reclaim and filter it down here, but also in the surface. Counselor, I'm going to need your medical expertise in the filter part." Finally, he glanced at Kuzos. "Anything you remember reading about these people is useful sir." He didn't even seem to remember the Vorta security chief was in charge; this was his territory and right now, the Trill was visibly in his element despite his physical predicament in the scorching heat.

Barbax’s Denobulan brow furrowed in deep concentration as he immediately tapped his tricorder, his wide face glistening with heavy sweat as he scanned the scrolling mechanical schematics. "I'm already cross-referencing, Lieutenant," he said quickly, his natural Denobulan enthusiasm for complex alien machinery tempered by a cautious, nervous energy as he eyed the uncalibrated valves. "Though tapping into these ancient conduits without precise pressure regulators could trigger a steam backfire. I'll focus purely on structural integrity!"

Beside him, B'ree offered a serene, steadying presence amidst the suffocating haze. The green-skinned Orion adjusted her Tricorder with calm, logical precision, drawing on her quiet, dependable nature. "The filtration matrix is straightforward, Aidan," B'ree stated smoothly, her voice a soothing anchor. "I'll handle the bio-contaminant balance."

Kuzos spoke after B'ree spoke. "These people find honor and respect in confrontation. I do not mean physical confrontation but verbal. They respect verbal strength, the power of words. Through well thought out arguments. They despise straddling a position. Take a stand and stick to it. They also despise the Dominion and what they feel the Dominion did to their world. it is deep rooted and not easily overcome."

"Thank you Kuzos," Aidan said gratefully, "so me learning their language should be seen as a sign of respect then as should us defending your presence be. You prove them wrong about the Dominion, and I feel a single person can't be responsible for the actions of his predecessors." he looked at the others. "I'll handle the design of the system," he offered, "Kuzos I think you should be our bridge to these people, and have them tell you where we are needing most. I'm confident we can do this, if we work as a team. We all have our experience and our expertise, let's use it to show them the power of teamwork. Counselor if it's not too much to ask, I also need you to monitor all of us, but especially me. I don't do very well in this heat and I need you to stop me if things go bad again. I know myself, I'll want to push on for the sake of these people, even if we're not having a single choice in the matter."

"Yes Aidan, You learning their language went a long way in winning their respect." Kuzos replied, his violet eyes on Aidan. "Defending me not as much because of their hatred of the Dominion but it was noted. I will be happy to be the bridge between us and these people. I suggest we get to work on showing them what we can do rather than talking about it."

Amber nodded as she looked towards Aidan. “That I can do. Fortunately my Vulcan half allows me a little more leeway where the heat is concerned.”

Barbax’s tricorder chirped erratically as a sudden, deep tremor rattled through the basalt floor, vibrating right up their boots. A muted, concussive rumble echoed from deep within the lower vaults, the unmistakable sonic signature of a Phaser discharge venting pressure through the strata miles away.

"That wasn't the Great Hearth expanding naturally," Barbax squeaked, his brow furrowing as his fingers flew across his tricorder display. "That was a targeted energy blast! Someone just forcibly blew open a primary pressure manifold down in the lower flues!"

Beside him, B'ree kept her footing, her green Orion skin glistening under the harsh copper light. She monitored her tricorder with steady, unflinching focus as the thermal readout spiked sharply before settling into a rapid venting pattern. "It was Commander zh'Roothi," B'ree deduced calmly, her voice an anchor amidst the sudden panic of the nearby guards. "She bypassed manifold four-B to bleed the ambient ionization. The upper thermal window is clearing, but the structural shockwave is cascading toward us. We have very little time before this entire conduit grid collapses."

"Then this medic better hurry so we can continue with renewed strength," Aidan commented, reaching for the wall to keep himself on his feet. "I wonder if she knows we're down here, because I don't think she does." Yet he was visibly relieved at the thought of the XO being alive and well. He winced as the tremor cascaded through his boots up into his injured still fevered body.

“I’m glad she’s alive, but she might think we’re not considering how we became separated. We need to get moving though if this conduit is at risk of collapse.” She pulled out a hypo from her small medkit. “Just a little pain relief and also a mild stimulant to follow” she pressed it to Aidan’s neck then followed up with the stimulant. “You’ll need to properly rest when that wears off.”

"And healing," Aidan answered, wincing at the hiss of the hypospray against his skin. "Thank you amber, I appreciate this. However should it become dire I need to remind you... under no circumstance are you to give me tri-ox. No matter what because i am very allergic to it."

“No tri-ox, understood.” Amber nodded in confirmation. “Last thing we need is you going to into anaphylactic shock or worse.”

"Let's keep moving, we should be getting to that junction shortly," the Trill suggested. He fell silent and it was clear some quiet conversation was going on between him and Sherlock because seconds later the blue took off and glided ahead. Aidan glanced down at the unrolled map in his hands and pointed ahead. "We should also be coming up on another vent," he said quietly. "I know we can do this, this is what we're all trained for. I just hope we get enough cooperation from the locals, I hope we can make them understand our plan."

A sudden, high-pitched warble pierced the quiet hum of Barbax’s tricorder. The Denobulan officer stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes bulging as he frantically re-calibrated the device's sensor array. "Wait! Oh, no... look at these telemetry readings!" Barbax squeaked, his voice pitching an octave higher with sheer panic as his hands flew across the interface. "The structural shockwave from Commander zh'Roothi's phaser strike just completely sheared the lower basalt shelf! The Robert April... it’s slipped the ledge! It's in full freefall into the lower core cavern!"

"Look at the secondary carrier wave!" Barbax gasped, sweat dripping from his chin onto the casing as the floor beneath their boots shuddered violently. "That's an active annular confinement beam! The Enterprise has caught her! Transporter signals are locked on her position right now—they're pulling the Commander out mid-fall!"

“Oh my good heavens!” Amber added watching her language in-front of everyone. “At least we know she’ll be safe.”

"Indeed we do Amber." Kuzos replied, please that zh'Roothi had been saved. "Now, let us turn our attention to correcting the problem before us and getting this heat to a much more manageable level."

Aidan breathed a painful sigh of relief at the news, it made the weight of carrying the bloodied commbadge less heavy on his soul. "I agree," he said slowly, "and hope they don't pull us out before we do."

B’ree suddenly froze, a hair-raising sensation washing over her skin as the static in the air shifted from stifling sulfur to a sharp, metallic hum. The hairs on her arms stood up, and a sudden wave of dizziness hit the entire group.

"Do you feel that?" B’ree murmured, her calm demeanor cracking as her tricorder’s sensors pegged to maximum. A massive, high-frequency energy surge was cascading straight through the subterranean bedrock from above. It wasn't a seismic shockwave—it was a localized distortion field tearing through space-time itself, enveloping the entire city in a blinding, hum-filled glow.

"Eerie," Aidan answered, watching his own readings go haywire. He felt the hum vibrate through his entire body. His ushaan thrummed against his thigh and he looked down at it in wonder. "Be careful with metal objects, don't touch the piping until we get clear readings. Everything seems magnetised." He closed his eyes a moment, feeling utterly dizzy for a moment, which wasn't helping his fragile condition at all. "Sherlock get back here," he called out, wanting his companion nearby just in case.

He opened his eyes and looked back at his tricorder, shaking his head as he tapped the side of the device just for good measure rather than it actually having effect. "I don't get it, I can't make anything useful of this other than that there's some kind of distortion and we're in the middle of it. Does it seem cooler to you? It may be me, but I feel the temperature may be dropping, not significantly but at least enough to notice."

Petty Officer 2nd Class Kol Ketai adjusted the settings on the entry-level triage biobed, her gray, ridged Cardassian fingers tapping a swift, precise sequence into the console. As an acute care nurse in the Enterprise’s Ward 2 Emergency Ward, she appreciated the engineered perfection of Deck 8’s portside layout. Positioned just steps from the primary turbolift trunks, the facility was designed for seamless transition from crisis to care; a principle of cold, clinical efficiency that appealed to her Cardassian sensibility.

The pneumatic doors hissed open with a sharp depressurization chime, breaking the ward's hum.

Ketai looked up, her dark eyes instantly taking in the arriving pair. First was Commander Sora Bernadotte, walking with a stiff, rigid posture that failed to mask the ragged, uncoordinated rhythm of her stride. Right on her heels was Lieutenant Rrawran, the massive Rorworr security officer whose looming, canine frame filled the threshold like an immovable wall.

"Triage assessment required," Ketai said smoothly, her deep, measured voice carrying the calm authority expected of an acute care specialist. She stepped forward, gesturing toward the primary triage bed equipped with high-fidelity overhead sensors.

Even before the biobed’s sensors swept the Commander, Ketai’s trained eye caught the telltale signs of acute neurological distress: the slight tremor in Bernadotte's hands, the micro-fixation of her pupils, and the faint shine of sweat along her hairline.

"Commander Bernadotte, please take a seat on the primary biobed," Ketai instructed, her tone polite yet unyielding as she brought up the patient intake interface.

Before, Sora was frustrated at the way the Commodore had treated her. Seeing Rrawran step out of the turbolift after her, however, had turned that frustration into anger. She completely ignored the Petty Officer, instead turning on her heel to come face to face with the canine tactical officer. "Go back to the bridge," she almost hissed. "I do not need a babysitter. And tell the Commodore that if he insists on carrying on this way, we can settle things in the Terran fashion."

She paused a moment to let her words sink in, then finally turned around to face the nurse. "I don't need a triage assessment, or a diagnostic, or anything. I need painkillers for a headache, and I need people to stop trying so hard to piss me off."

"My orders come directly from Commodore Targaryen, Commander," Rrawran replied without flinching, his towering frame remaining as solid and unyielding as a duranium bulkhead. His voice carried the calm, absolute certainty of an officer who would not be swayed by threats or rank, "You will remain in Sickbay until cleared by medical and I will remain stationed here to ensure those orders are carried out."

He took one deliberate step back, positioning his massive form squarely alongside the doorway to block any thought of an early exit. With his arms folded loosely over his chest, he offered a single, respectful nod toward Ketai, leaving the defiant Operations officer entirely in the nurse's capable hands, but not before getting in one more jab, "I'd also remind you that this is not a Terran vessel, and we will not be settling things the Terran way any time soon."

"Could have fooled me, from the way the CO has been acting recently," Sora hissed in response. Either Enterprise - no, the Commodore - was going to cause the most severe breach of the Temporal Prime Directive on record, or the landing party would go extinct along with the Iocarrans. Regardless of what happened, she was going to write a full report. Director Aamis would most definitely be interested in knowing what was happening here.

She turned back to the nurse, shaking her head. "I do not need triage. I can tell you exactly what symptoms I am experiencing, and I have a few guesses at the cause. So you might as well call Doctor Kholin over now. Am I at least allowed a PADD so I can write some things down?", she added as an aside towards Rrawran.

"Based upon your behavior and the hostility you've shown, Commander, the only individual currently working against this ship's objectives is you," the massive Rorworr stated directly, his deep voice carrying a flat, unshakeable finality. "If you require a PADD to record medical notes for the Doctor, one will be provided, but your personal grievances do not supersede a direct order from the Commanding Officer."

"That is enough," Ketai interjected smoothly, cutting off any further exchange with a sharp, dismissive gesture toward the Rorworr. "Lieutenant, you have established your post. Commander, this is Ward 2, not a debate hall. We're going to proceed with your medical checkup... sit on the biobed."

Having been informed of the arrival of Commander Bernadotte and her escort and brought herself to the Emergency Ward in person. Not that she had any doubts about the reliability or efficiency of PO Ketai, but more that she wanted to be on the pulse of both of the away teams and their returns.

As she entered it was clear there was an atmosphere in the premier biobed. Clearly the huge Security Escort, Rawran, was the first person she saw as she entered and she acknowledged him. "Are you a casualty Lieutenant?" she asked with concern, seeing as he wasn't on a bio-bed for assessment.

Rrawran dipped his broad head in a formal, respectful bow, his deep voice rumbling softly. "No, Doctor. I am on security detail, per the Commodore's orders... Commander Bernadotte is your patient."

"Ah, my mistake," Rio responded. She couldn't really tell him anything like "as you were" or "carry on" because they were of equal rank and it would sound patronizing so she just smiled at him after the admission that she'd been mistaken, and moved on further into the room, approaching Ketai and her patient instead.

"Good afternoon Ma'am" she greeted the Commander politely, wondering what to say that would allow Sora to tell her what was causing her deep frown and clearly agitated condition but she needn't have worried as Sora was very happy to launch again, finding a new challenge in the CMO as she wasn't being successful in her efforts to wear down Ketai.

"Based on what?" Sora's reply to the polite greeting was very much not so. Still, she thought to herself, might as well get this nonsense over with. "Long story short, I have a little bit of a headache, and the Commanding Officer decided that was enough cause to relieve me of duty, have me forcibly removed from the bridge, and a full neurological assessment done, while we are in the middle of a crisis situation that, as it stands, will lead to the Executive Officer, Chief Science Officer, Chief Tactical Officer, and Chief Counselor all being incinerated in an extinction event three hundred years ago. Either that, or they manage to save the native population, inadvertently shatter the Temporal Prime Directive into pieces and cause a paradox that will instantly rewrite three hundred years of galactic history. But sure, getting my headache checked out is more important than saving our crew. Couldn't have just given me some meds and let me get on with my job."

She shook her head and finally moved over to the biobed. "Well then, Doc. Do whatever. I don't care anymore."

Ketai tapped the console to activate the overhead diagnostic arch as Bernadotte took position on the biobed, her expression remaining entirely impassive. Stepping smoothly to Doctor Kholin's side, the Cardassian nurse handed over the intake PADD, keeping her voice pitched to a low, discreet murmur meant only for the Chief Medical Officer's ears.

"Diagnostic arch is active, Doctor," Ketai reported with crisp, clinical efficiency, cutting straight through the Commander's dramatic venting. "Despite the patient's self-assessment of a minor headache, visual triage upon her arrival indicated physical signs of acute neurological distress: specifically micro-fixation of the pupils, minor manual tremors, and localized diaphoresis along the hairline. Live physiological telemetry is now syncing to your display for a full sweep."

"Thank you, Petty Officer Ketai," Rio answered as her eyes scanned the results she was being shown on the rolling script and images displaying live on the PADD she had been handed. "I understand your frustration, Commander," Rio addressed Sora directly. "...considering that you are only aware of a headache, but the bio-scans say differently, I'm sorry to tell you. Are you aware how high your temperature is? Can you tell me when the sweating started? How long have you had the tremors, and do your eyes hurt, or are they simply uncomfortable?" she asked in a monotone, making her point without raising her voice or allowing her to set off on paranoia again. Rio had been tempted to add, 'And when did the paranoia start?' to the questions—which were, in fact, a whole list of the most obvious symptoms that Sora had been denying. She had decided to leave that last one off, as it might not be specific to this incident.

Rather than answer any of the questions, Sora remained quiet. She had an inking of what was going on, and was sure the scans would reveal it soon. And until that point, there was no reason to engage with speculation.

Ketai stepped back slightly to give the Chief Medical Officer room, her dark eyes remaining fixed on the streaming bio-data. As Doctor Kholin questioned the Commander, the Cardassian nurse brought up a high-resolution sub-cellular scanner, overlaying the active telemetry against standard Starfleet physiological baselines. What caught Ketai’s attention wasn't merely the elevated cortisol or the cranial hyperthermia—it was a subtle, erratic variance in the patient's molecular coherence.

Leaning in once more toward Kholin, Ketai pitched her voice low, maintaining her signature clinical detachment.

"Doctor," Ketai murmured, tapping a specific sequence on her console to highlight a localized cellular anomaly. "Look at the synaptic firing rate. The cellular matrix is displaying a micro-displacement pattern... a classic marker of temporal-spatial degradation. Her molecules are actively experiencing a phase-variance strain."

Ketai kept her gaze cool and analytical, addressing the medical reality rather than the political drama. "If Commander Bernadotte has spent significant time exposed to displaced temporal fields or alternate quantum signatures, her cellular structure is attempting to align with an origin point outside our present temporal frame. It isn't just a headache, Doctor. It's the beginning stage of temporal sickness."

Rio listened carefully and looked over the data herself again as Ketai was talking. "Very well spotted," Kholin replied, in an aligned level of volume, keeping this between them for now. Faced then with a dilemma, Rio had to make a decision quickly, before the sickness progressively took hold any more deeply.

Ketai inclined her head slightly at the Chief Medical Officer’s quiet praise, her dark, ridged face remaining a mask of cool Cardassian efficiency. Without breaking her calm demeanor, she reached down to the console and adjusted the biobed's secondary diagnostic sensors, widening the scan parameter to isolate the erratic sub-cellular variance.

"Initial baseline suggests a multi-dimensional strain rather than simple localized radiation, Doctor," Ketai murmured to Kholin in the same low, measured tone, her long fingers tapping the controls with practiced precision. "Her cellular matrix is fighting a fundamental phase shift. If you agree, I'll prepare a broad-spectrum neural dampening field for the primary arch and prep a hypospray with a heavy cellular stabilizer—that should suppress the synaptic degradation and buy us time to isolate the quantum origin before her central nervous system goes into shock."

"I do indeed agree Ketai please go ahead." Rio confirmed. "That should stabilise her while we get a full program of treatments in place to gradually support and repair the cellular matrix on a more long term basis."

"You'll need quite a few treatments for quite some time" she turned her attention to Bernadotte with this last summation. "but there's a serious problem to solve here and with some stabilisation now and lots more gradually as we go on, we should be able to get you back into a manageable phase balance."

Sora sighed, before letting out a brief string of curses in a variety of languages. "Don't waste your time. She sighed, then cursed. "My sister warned me that kind of thing might happen. The quantum origin you're looking for is out there. That planet, and the massive paradox that our landing party is apparently working to create. Combine that with the fact that I am from both a different quantum reality and a different time, and you have your cause. Call it an allergic reaction to large amounts of temporal radiation. Nothing you can do about it, so just give me the damn painkillers and leave me in peace."

Ketai listened to the Commander’s outburst without moving a muscle. Before she could prepare the stabilizer, the overhead biobed lights dipped to a low glow, flickering erratically as a massive, ship-wide power drain hummed through the deck plates. Secondary consoles chimed with priority power-conservation warnings across Deck 8. The EMH flickered away, dropping a dermal regenerator to the floor as his program lost cohesion.

"Primary power routing has been diverted to the transport arrays and main field emitters," Ketai reported smoothly, her fingers adjusting the biobed controls to draw from Sickbay's emergency reserves instead. She picked up a hypospray, pressing it firmly against Sora's neck with practiced efficiency. "Pain relief and cellular stabilizer administered, Commander. Rest now. The Doctor and I will handle the rest."

Sora leaned back and chuckled silently as the power fluctuated. "I see someone who doesn't quite know what they're doing did a temporal transport. Hope that means our people are fine and we can get out of here."

"I hope our people are fine too" Rio soothed as she and Ketai moved softy to one side to continue putting together and prescribing the necessary mixtures of treatments and realignments that were going to be necessary to complete their work with the Commander.

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