The shuttlepod finally stopped skidding, but Hoshi was afraid to move. Her chest and stomach hurt from the pull of the harness but she was still in her chair. She could feel it beside and behind her. Slowly, she lifted her head and opened her eyes. It was so quiet now where it had been deafening before. She didn't think she would ever forget that sound. She turned her head toward the rear of the shuttlepod and saw open sky and land. And wreckage. The shuttlepod had turned on its side and broken open. She saw Corporal Moody in front of what used to be the rear bulkhead. She turned toward the front and saw Lieutenant Reed almost in silhouette against the window at the bow. He was slumped forward in his chair at the helm with his arms and legs hanging limp. One of his arms was crooked. Blood dripped slowly from his finger tips to the starboard bulkhead, which was now the floor.

She hoped they were both alive. She felt terribly alone here in the quiet. She moved her arms, testing them. Then she unbuckled the harness and grunted when she fell onto the console, which was now below her chair, hurting her ribs even more. She took a moment to get her breath and then tried to stand. She fell again when she realized she was still tangled in the harness. She twisted out from within it and stood up. Her legs were shaking but she felt that was just nerves. They didn't hurt, so she doubted they were wounded. She held her hand out to the wall--the ceiling--as she stumbled toward the bow.

"Lieutenant," she called, though what came out was more of a whisper. Her throat was raw and painful though she didn't remember screaming. Reed hadn't moved. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Lieutenant," she called again, and this time her voice worked. He was still hanging motionless in his seat and she began to fear he was dead. She took a few unsteady steps toward him. "Lieutenant!"

And he moved. He pulled his arms up a little and shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. Hoshi's legs felt more solid with those movements, and she navigated past the spilled supplies and ducked under the other seat even as she stepped over her own. "Lieutenant," she said, more softly, not wanting to startle him.

"Ensign!" he called back. "Are you hurt?"

"Not much," she told him, deciding it didn't really matter. He was wounded, too.

"Moody?" Reed said, and she knew what he was asking. She turned to the back of the shuttlepod and the open air there. She could see him there by the wreckage just as before. He hadn't moved and he didn't when she called out to him.

She took another step closer, and, as she did, she moved out of the meager light coming from inside the shuttlepod so that her shadow was no longer blocking her view of him. And now she could see the blood on his face, the gash that had opened his belly. Her hand came to her mouth and she stifled a sob and the urge to vomit that suddenly hit her. She turned back to the overturned shuttlepod and hurried back to her only companion now, Lieutenant Reed.

She found him sitting on the floor below his seat, and she wondered how he'd managed to get himself out of the harness without hurting his arm even worse. He was holding his crooked right arm tightly with his left hand. "He's dead?" he asked.

She tried to answer but her answer came more as a sob than a coherent word.

He nodded, leaving his head down. "It would appear," he said, "that we've capsized." She could see his shoulders shaking and knew he was in pain.

"In a manner of speaking," she replied, moving closer to him again. "A Navy manner of speaking."

"Do you think my father would be proud?" he joked.

"Very," she replied in all seriousness. "We're still alive." She caught herself. "Except Moody."

She reached him and touched his shoulder. "Are you hurt?" She realized instantly that it was a stupid question.

"Only a little," he replied, turning his head to look at her. There was blood on his face, but not much. He tilted his head toward his arm. "I'm going to need you to help me with this."

"How?" she asked, in a whisper again. She didn't even want to look at his arm. It was lying unnaturally in his lap.

"Find the medical kit and then come around here in front of me," he said, and she wondered how his voice could be so calm when he was obviously in so much pain. When she didn't move, his mouth crooked up in a little smile. "That's an order, Ensign."

And she obeyed and began sifting through the spilled and broken contents of the shuttlepod's compartments. She found the kit still sealed and saw a small piece of flat metal that might serve as a splint. She picked them both up and went back to him, crawling over his legs to sit in front of him with her back to the ceiling.

He started to work on his sleeve as he waited for her to get settled. His left hand shook as he unbuttoned his cuff and pulled back the zipper. The fabric caught on the bit of bone there, and she heard his sharp intake of breath.

She opened the medical kit and found a small vial with a needle on it. The label said it was morphine and should be injected into the patient's thigh. "Morphine?" she asked, wondering if it was enough to decrease the pain, but not so much as to make him unconscious or incoherent. She needed him.

He nodded, and she obeyed. She broke the cap off and pushed the needle into the lieutenant's thigh. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair. His shaking stopped and he took deeper breaths. Hoshi's became faster and shallower. Moody was dead and Reed was unconscious. She was alone.

Then he surprised her by opening his eyes. "Relax, Ensign," he said. "It's a first aid kit. For emergencies. It can't be too large a dose or the afflicted crew member wouldn't be able to keep his head. And we've both got to keep ours." He took a deep breath and sat up again. "But it helps. Let's get this over with."

Hoshi sighed and slowly reached toward his injured arm. It looked worse from there. She carefully held his wrist as she pulled the sleeve back, biting back the bile that threatened to come up on her as she felt the slick blood there. But the sleeve gave way, and she pushed it back toward his elbow.

He nodded his approval. "Thanks."

"Um," she said, trying hard to remember her basic first aid training. "We need to clean it." She dug into the kit again and found a small bottle of sterile water which she then poured over the wound. Blood washed away from his arm to his pant legs, but there wasn't any pumping out of his arm. She dared to hope that meant he hadn't damaged an artery there. There was a medical tricorder in the kit so she got it out and scanned his arm.

"Let me guess," Reed said. "It's broken."

"Is that the morphine talking?" she asked in return. "I was just trying to see if you were going to bleed to death."

"That was me trying to lighten the mood with ill-placed humor," he answered, meeting her gaze with his own. "But please do tell me if I'm going to bleed to death."

She shook her head. "Though we should bandage it tight and put pressure on it anyway."

He nodded. "But first things first. We've got to set it, and I've got a feeling that the morphine won't even negate it. So let's just get it over with. Put your foot on my right shoulder."

She did as he said, careful to not kick his arm in the process. He rested his elbow on her knee and she could feel him shaking again.

"Take my wrist," he instructed, "and pull hard until the bones pop back together."

She swallowed the bile threatening once again to overcome her. But she didn't move.

"It's okay," he told her. "It's just broken. You can do this. So can I. But it will be worse for me the longer you wait."

His eyes were locked on hers now, and she could see that he was in pain still, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "Just do it quickly," he added.

She didn't say anything but nodded and reached out for his hand with both of hers.

"One fast movement," he coached as he put his other hand against her ankle. He closed his eyes and nodded his readiness. She pulled his arm straight as hard as she could, using her foot as leverage against his shoulder. In the silence that seemed to envelope the shuttlepod she thought she heard a pop as the bones slipped back into place.

She looked at his face, pale in the dim emergency lighting. His jaw was clenched hard and his eyes closed. He took a few shaky breaths before he moved his hand away and she lowered her foot.

Malcolm Reed's eyes were closed, but he could have sworn he could see the pain flaring red like fire in his arm radiating up to his shoulder and down to his fingertips. But she did well in spite of the uncomfortable task he'd given her and it was over quickly. The brightness of the pain dimmed a bit. "Tell me we got it," he pleaded in a whisper. He vaguely heard the tricorder and Hoshi's voice very quietly. Then he felt more pain as she wrapped a bandage tightly around his arm.

After a few moments, he was able to open his eyes and look at her. "Thank you," he whispered. She just nodded back. She looked so frail there in the dim emergency lighting, with her hair disheveled and her eyes so wide with fear. They glistened with tears she was holding back.

"You're right," he told her when he'd found his voice again. "We are still alive." He smiled and she smiled back releasing a nervous sigh and then her head dropped and her shoulders shook. She was crying. And he didn't blame her one bit. He touched her knee softly with his hand. But he let her cry for a moment as he looked around, assessing what he could see from his present position.

The shuttlepod was turned on its side and the aft bulkhead had been completely torn away. He remembered hearing Moody's body thump against it when they first touched down. He didn't doubt now that it was as Hoshi said. Moody was dead.

And so was the shuttlepod for all intents and purposes. It was beyond repair, at least here. It was possible Trip could have made something of it, either repairing or using it for parts, if it had been in the launch bay on Enterprise, but they were far from Enterprise now. They had only what they could salvage or find. There was no way this little ship would fly again. And if that were true, it would have to be destroyed.

It was highly unlikely that the crash had gone completely unnoticed by the native inhabitants, especially as they'd streaked through the sky over a city. No, someone would have noticed, and they would come to investigate it. He was sure of that. The shuttlepod would have to be destroyed to ensure that they wouldn't get a boost in their technological advancement that they weren't ready for. Maybe he and Hoshi could reach that tree line he'd seen before they crashed. They would take only what they needed to survive and destroy the rest.

Realizing that his arm still needed something, Malcolm retrieved a pocket knife from one of his trouser pockets and cut one of the harness straps loose from the chair above him. He wrapped it around his neck and under his newly splinted arm. Funny, he hadn't remember her splinting it. Well, it wasn't worth spending much time on. They had bigger problems. He finished tying his makeshift sling with one hand and his teeth and then tried valiantly to forget he ever had a right arm.

"I'm sorry," Hoshi breathed and Reed looked back at her. She was wiping the tears from her face.

"No need," he told her. "This is a traumatic event. It happens."

She shuddered and Reed suddenly realized that he was cold as well. The air had cooled with the night and the lack of friction now that the shuttlepod was still. "How long was I out?" he asked, wondering how much more of the night they had.

Hoshi shook her head. "Not long. A few minutes, I think."

Reed nodded back and tried to remember their trajectory and the position of the planet relative to its sun. "I think we have a few hours until dawn," he said. "We need to destroy this shuttlepod and make for the trees. With any luck, we'll be able to live quietly in those woods until help comes."

Hoshi's eyes widened in alarm. "Destroy it? How will they find us?"

"The same way we were going to find our mysterious caller, I suppose. We can't take it with us, Hoshi," Malcolm told her. "The people on this planet are going to wonder what came down tonight. They'll come here and they'll pick it apart. We can't give them this technology. And I don't think we want to give them our bodies to pick apart either. Enterprise can still scan for us if they can get a probe below the interference. They might be able to avoid whatever we hit. They can come for us."

She dropped her eyes, but nodded.

"Help me up?" he asked.

Hoshi wiped her face one more time and then crawled back over his legs and stood up. Careful not to touch his hands, she held his good arm as he got his own feet underneath him, stooped though he was because of the chair. She didn't let go even after they'd gotten completely out of the wreckage, and Reed guessed she didn't realize it. She needed the support as much as he did. She stopped in front of what was left of the aft bulkhead and Corporal Moody's body. "What about him?" she asked softly.

"We destroy his body with the shuttlepod," he answered. "I don't want anyone dissecting him if they should find his body."

She turned to face him. "Can't we bury him?"

"They could dig him up, Hoshi," he reminded her. "Or a scavenger could."

She was quiet for a moment, but she must have understood now the necessity of it. "And how will we destroy it?"

"Destroying it shouldn't be too much of a problem," he said. "We can rig the engines to blow, overload a phaser near the fuel tanks. We'll manage. There are any number of ways." He offered her a smile. "Fortunately, blowing things up is a hobby of mine."

She didn't smile back, and he figured she was still too caught up in the trauma of it. But she surprised him by releasing his arm and moving away from him. "We'll need to see what we can take with us." She was finally pulling herself together, realizing that she was not just a victim but a survivor and a Starfleet Officer.

He nodded and they returned to the shuttle, opening every panel and cabinet. Hoshi remembered the medical kit but gasped and grabbed her side as she bent to pick it up. "Where are you hurt, Ensign?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered hurriedly, moving quickly to put the medical kit back in order.

"Hoshi," he tried again, softer.

She sat the kit down and touched her ribs on her left side. "I think it was just because of the harness," she admitted. "But it's getting worse."

Malcolm nodded. "Sit up straight and let me scan it. You might have broken a rib."

She sat up, but took a shaky breath and held it. He flipped open the tricorder and scanned not only her ribs but everything else. Her ribs, though, appeared to be her only injury beyond bruises. "Two broken," he told her. He didn't mention that one of the broken ribs was dangerously close to puncturing a lung. He had no idea what to do for her. He knew that broken ribs were generally bound, but he thought they'd have to be set first and he wasn't sure how to do that or even if he could with a broken arm. Even if he could, would the binding push that rib further in toward her lung? He couldn't risk that. He snapped the tricorder shut. "I don't know that I can do anything about it without making it worse. We can give you a dose of that morphine though."

She nodded and relaxed her posture as he handed her one of the little vials. "We should take it with us," she suggested. There were only four vials left, so Malcolm nodded and put them in his pocket.

"Two more for each of us" he said, "so we'll have to ration it." She then turned the tricorder on him again, happily finding no more serious injuries than his arm. It ached tremendously and, though it had been put back into place, it felt loose and insecure, even with the splint and sling.

"You hit your head," she said, not looking up from the device.

"Maybe," he replied. "I don't remember, but now that you mention it, I do have a headache."

"Nothing broken," she reported, closing the scanner again. "Well, nothing else. I don't suppose I can do anything for you head."

As they went back to their scavenging, Malcolm cautioned her to be careful, especially when bending over or carrying things. They both went back to seeing what they could salvage and what might be used to make a bomb. Malcolm retrieved the tools and the kit he had used earlier to restore partial power, while Hoshi found some portable oxygen tanks. They also found some baseball caps, emergency rations, and three packs of water. Malcolm removed Moody's phase pistol from his holster and the grenades from his belt, while Hoshi pulled out two blankets.

"Just one," Malcolm told her. "Less to carry. There's a desert between us and those trees. We won't want to be carrying much."

She nodded and put the other blanket back inside the gutted hull of the shuttlepod. Finally, they were ready. They'd decided to take only one communicator and no weapons. If they were found, he didn't want phaser technology introduced on this planet. The communicator was a risk, but neither wanted to give up on contacting the Enterprise completely. They took the water and food rations wrapped in the one blanket. All that was left, then, was to move Moody's body into his temporary tomb. And destroy the lot of it.

It was a fantastic explosion, she had to admit. Hoshi wasn't as interested in pyrotechnics as Lieutenant Reed obviously was, but even she could appreciate this one. He'd somehow delayed the detonation long enough that they could be far enough from the blast. After they'd walked a hundred meters, he stopped her and turned around. "Get down," he said, and they both dropped to the dusty ground. And for a brief moment the dark sky lit up brightly with the deafening blast that shook the ground even that far. And yet, even at that distance--which wasn't all that far, she figured, when a shuttlepod was exploding--no debris larger than ash particles fell down on them. She could feel the heat though, as the hot wind brushed past her hair. And then it was over. The cool night air returned, and the lieutenant helped her up from the ground. As she lifted her bundle, she noted how the shuttlepod was already just smoldering, a much smaller black, smoking mass against the coming dawn on the horizon.

"That turned out quite well," Reed stated quietly. "Do you remember," he asked, still keeping his voice low and his eyes on the wreckage, "the story of the 9/11 terrorist attacks in America?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She admired the explosion but thought of Corporal Moody and now of the thousands that had died that day. Through all the changes that had taken place on Earth, that event was never forgotten and was taught in every school.

"The crashed planes produced a fire so hot," he went on, "that those on the floors where the planes hit were vaporized immediately. Nothing left of them." He was silent for a heartbeat. "That's what I wanted for Moody. Nothing left for them to find and defile. When we get back, I'm going to see to it he gets a commendation."

Hoshi still couldn't bring herself to speak. She just nodded and watched as the wreck fell in on itself. It was a fantastic explosion.

And then they were walking away again, toward the tree line Reed had seen as they crashed, but that they couldn't see here on the ground. Her side hurt but she tried not to show it. She didn't doubt Reed's arm hurt worse, and complaining wouldn't help anyway. They had to ration the morphine until she could get back to sickbay. They walked in reserved silence the rest of the night, and Hoshi wondered if the lieutenant's thoughts were the same as hers. Why didn't Enterprise try to contact them?

Dawn slipped over the horizon, the sun rose warm in the sky, and still the communicator was silent in Reed's pocket. "How far were those trees?" she finally asked, looking up at him from under the brim of her cap. Her legs were tired, but she didn't want to stop until she reached the relative safety of the trees. She also remembered the stories of the alleged UFO crash at Roswell in the twentieth century and the alien autopsy hoax movies that were created. As the immediacy of the crash and the sadness of Moody's death settled into the back of her mind, she was left to just the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other. And so her mind had wandered down those maudlin bits of history. Only they weren't so maudlin now. It hit her with a realization strong enough to override her weariness. She and Reed were the aliens and this was Roswell.

Malcolm Reed felt the weight of command, even with only one subordinate. Her life depended upon his decisions, and, presently, his sense of direction. Fortunately, he'd thought enough to recognize which direction they were going when the shuttlepod came down and wasn't relying on just the way the wreck was pointing when it finally stopped. There at the end, it had changed direction so many times, Malcolm felt a little queasy just remembering it. But knowing they'd been headed north before the crash meant that north was the direction of the trees and so north they would go. By shuttlepod, it might only have taken minutes to reach the tree line. By foot, however, injured and weary, it would take at least a day, maybe two. And now that the sun had risen, the days were promising to be hot and dry.

Within just a few hours, they were both sweating. Their steps became shorter and clumsier. They took a break at noon, resting for half an hour under the silver-colored blanket which reflected back the sun's rays, allowing them a small respite from the heat. They split one ration pack between them and had two sips of water each. It wasn't enough. Already that was one of his chief thoughts. Water. He wondered if just knowing they were in a desert made him thirstier. But his survival training, and the weight of command, kept him from taking more than those two sips. Hoshi was his responsibility and he felt guilty that he couldn't do more for her, and that he hadn't been able to keep her safe on this mission from the start. He'd lost one of his charges in the crash, and now the only one remaining to him was injured, wandering a desert on a potentially hostile foreign world.

And that his one remaining charge should be Hoshi Sato anguished him even more. He watched her as she took a short nap under the shade of the blanket. Her face, usually so unblemished and clean, was sooty and moist with perspiration. Her hair, so soft and beautiful, whether put up for duty or left long in her off hours, was dirty now, tangled and whipped out of her ponytail by the wind.

He remembered their first voyage and how Hoshi had been worried about vibrations that no one else could feel or hear. How she struggled to overcome her fear of spaceflight. He knew she felt embarrassed by her earlier missteps, but he had admired her from the start. Here was someone who would not have been unhappy to spend the rest of her life on good green land, teaching the brightest of students languages that most humans couldn't even pronounce. Space exploration wasn't a necessity for her the way it was for the captain. It wasn't her calling. It scared her the way a ship on an ocean scared him. Courage, Malcolm knew, wasn't the absence of fear, however, but the will to act in spite of it. The lure of languages humans had never heard before was stronger than Hoshi's fear of space. She was afraid, but she went anyway.

He smiled when he thought of his birthday and the pains she had gone through to find out that he liked pineapple. How he had misinterpreted her easily-misinterpreted invitation to a meal with her. Regulations. If it hadn't been for regulations, he might have followed that misinterpretation a little further along. She was beautiful, even now, dirty and covered in sweat. Were it not for regulations, and that weight of command, he would have allowed himself to try and get to know her better. Still, even within the bounds of those regulations, he'd grown close enough to call her a friend, to feel the sting personally when the Reptilian Xindi had abducted her from the bridge. He saw her sleeping now and remembered how young and fragile she'd been when she'd woken up after her rescue. She looked that way now, and his heart ached with guilt. He should have protected her better.

When he woke her to carry on again, he carefully smothered all those defeatist thoughts and put on his mask of calm but cautious professionalism. Hoshi had enough to worry about without adding himself to the list. She sat up, pressing her hand to her side. They both winced at the brightness and heat as they lowered the blanket. They both quickly replaced their caps on their heads, allowing them some shade, but Malcolm's head had already started pounding harder on his skull. Not for the first time, he wished someone had thought to make sunglasses part of the standard Starfleet uniform. Resigned to the headache, he said nothing as he helped Hoshi place their few supplies in the center of the blanket. He stood and offered her his good arm, grime-covered as it was. Hers were no cleaner and she took it. As she stood, she tucked the blanket to her chest and then they were walking once more.

"You'd think they would have come looking for us by now," Hoshi commented.

"Enterprise?" he asked.

"The natives."

They walked quietly for several more hours, though Hoshi wouldn't have minded some conversation to help pass the time and keep her mind off the heat and the bright overhead sun. The lieutenant, however, was never much for conversations, not with her anyway. She was sure Trip got more out of him since they had become quite good friends. Hoshi knew Lieutenant Reed counted her as a friend as well, and it was a friendship she valued--never so much as the day she awoke after being rescued from the Xindi reptilians.

He was, after all, a quiet man who kept much of his private life, well, private. Which left only work and small talk for casual conversation. Hoshi knew there was more to him than work and small talk. She'd seen it that day and on a few other occasions. Sure, explosives were his hobby and tactics his expertise, but he could also be gentle, supportive, loyal, and protective. His professionalism ensured her that--even though he'd seen her topless on one occasion--she could trust him not to step out of bounds toward her.

Still, she would have liked a little conversation. As it was, he walked silently beside her, always keeping her on his left side, where his good arm was. Once every hour, they stopped and tried to send a very short message to Enterprise: SOS in Morse code. Yet, they had still never even managed to make a connection to the ship. So they kept walking.

Hoshi wanted to strip off her jumpsuit. It was wet from collar to ankle from sweat, and the dark fabric did nothing for the heat except to draw it in. Navy whites would have been better, she thought and turned her head to look at Malcolm, imagining how he'd look in a crisp officer's dress whites. Dashing, she decided. He would fit in nicely in the Navy with the rest of the Reed men, and she wondered--not for the first time--why he had chosen space over the ocean and family tradition.

She didn't figure he was likely to tell her so she kept the question to herself. And besides, the redness on his neck and ears reminded her why they should keep their uniforms on. They still had quite a few hours before the sun went down, and she didn't want a full-body sunburn. Still, she unzipped it farther down the front, hoping at least for a cool breeze.

They took another rest in the late afternoon, reasoning that they should continue walking at night. It would be cooler then and they'd be that much closer to the trees by morning. Once again, Malcolm stayed sitting as she laid down for a nap. "You should rest, too," she told him.

"There may be predators," he replied. "Besides, my arm hurts too much to sleep."

She knew he was lying about his arm. Her chest hurt, too, but she was exhausted. He was too, despite his words. Still, she knew he wouldn't sleep or even lay down until they reached those trees and relative safety.

He woke her an hour later and, as she lifted the silvery blanket, she was relieved to see a reddened sky to the west. Sunset. But when she sat up a sharp pain stabbed through her chest, stealing her breath. She gasped and could only take small, shallow breaths as she waited for it to die down.

"Hoshi?" Malcolm asked. His tone and the gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder conveyed his concern.

"I'm okay," she gasped out, knowing it was as much a lie as when he'd said it. But there was nothing more either could do with the other until they both got back to Sickbay on Enterprise.

It took another hour for the sun to set, and though it was now below the horizon, the temperature had not yet begun to cool off. Safe from sunburn now, she unzipped her uniform and shrugged it off her shoulders. Though her legs were still covered and she still had her shirt on, her upper body was much relieved, and she could even feel a slightly cool breeze blow softly across her shoulders.

She noticed the lieutenant watching with what appeared to be an envious expression. "Would you like me to help you out of yours?" she asked, motioning to the make-shift sling.

"If it weren't too much of a hassle, perhaps," he replied, letting his shoulders droop just a bit in his disappointment. "But it's only going to get colder, and then we'd have to go through the trouble of putting it on again."

Hoshi stopped walking and waited for him to turn to her. "Well, you can at least unzip it," she said as she reached for the zipper at his left wrist, "and roll up your sleeve." Once it was unzipped she quickly rolled it back to his elbow. He smiled his thanks, and once she'd released his arm, unzipped his uniform top.

"That does help a bit," he commented. Then he unzipped the pocket on his right shoulder and handed Hoshi the communicator. "It's about time for another try, don't you think?"

Baezhu tapped his friend Kahrae on the shoulder. "What's that?" he asked. He pointed his longest digit at a bright object streaking through the sky. He'd come after his shift to visit with Kahrae in the few minutes before he went on duty. It was an odd friendship, as generally the different castes didn't mix unless their professions brought them together. Kahrae was a Cold Raptor while Baezhu was Lesser Winged. They had met professionally as they had both begun their training on the same day.

Kahrae ducked his neck downward to peer out from under his long claws. "It's too fast to be an airship," he replied. They both waited silently for the length of two breaths as it passed overhead, clearing the tallest of the settlement's buildings by ten or twenty meters.

"It is an airship of some sort," Baezhu said. "It has wings and it's in the air."

"We don't have any like that," Kahrae pointed out. "Besides it looks like it's going backwards and not leaving a trail."

He couldn't argue with that logic. It was as if the airship--or whatever it was--was following a trail rather than leaving one behind. It was very strange. But it was gone beyond their range of sight before they could find any other clues.

"There was a disturbance in Rihansu last night," Kahrae said, dropping his voice. "Command thought it was localized seismic activity."

"You think it has something to do with the airship?" Baezhu asked. It didn't seem that it could. Rihansu was in the opposite direction.

"That thing could have come from there."

"Rihansu is a desert," Beazhu told him. "There's no facility for it to come from."

"At least not one we know of," Kahrae held.

Malcolm was beginning to get cold, and with his uniform sweaty, the desert night just seemed that much colder. Hoshi was kind enough to roll his sleeve down again, and he had helped her back into the top of her jumpsuit. Now they walked hand in hand, picking their way slowly through the darkness. Her grip was tight in his hand, and he wondered if that was due to fear or the pain in her ribs. They had taken another rest an hour before, and, once again, Hoshi had struggled to stand. But she did stand and she wasn't coughing up blood or anything, so Malcolm hoped that meant her broken ribs were staying clear of her lung or any other vital organs.

It was like walking through an asteroid field, he felt. The stars in the sky did little to add to what meager light the moon gave off. He could just barely make out the rocks and low brush two steps in front of them, let alone the elusive tree line he'd glimpsed from the shuttlepod. Hoshi was quiet, concentrating on not tripping, he guessed.

The continued silence on the communicator dampened their already dampened spirits. Malcolm kept glancing over his shoulder in all directions, hoping he could spot movement at the least, should any predators or natives come upon them. He only saw something once, and not because of its movement. But because of its eyes reflecting back the meager light from the stars. Whatever they belonged to, they never came any closer, always staying just at the edge of his vision. Until they thought to stop for another rest.

They had no more than stopped walking before those eyes came closer, and Malcolm could begin to make out the shape of the creature's body as it moved. Hoshi saw it then, because Malcolm was staring so intently. Those eyes were easily at the height of Hoshi's shoulders. If the creature had stood upright, it would have towered over both of them. Malcolm wondered if they'd made the right decision in not taking any weapons.

He didn't take his eyes off the creature. "How's your throwing arm?" he asked Hoshi.

"Better than yours," she answered quietly. "Rock?"

He nodded and she slowly knelt to retrieve one. Her arm, as it turned out, was good and so was her aim. It struck the creature square in the shoulder, causing it to howl. But then, thankfully, it backed off.

Hoshi whispered back at him, "Do you think it will come back?"

He took her hand again. "Not if we keep moving. It would appear to be a cautious creature, maybe a scavenger, though I don't know why it would be so big. It's been following us for hours. It didn't come closer until we stopped."

"So we keep going," she concluded, and they were off again, trudging through the night.

By morning, their legs were like rubber, and their eyelids felt like lead. But the eyes were gone and there was no sign of the creature. While they both wanted to rest, they agreed it was best to keep going while it was still somewhat cool.

The coolness didn't last, so after an hour or two of daylight, they both dropped slowly to their knees.

"One hour," Reed told her, though by now, he probably didn't have to.

Hoshi just nodded. "Why haven't they come? We flew right over a city. Surely someone looked up."

Malcolm didn't have an answer. It was strange. When the Suliban and Klingon ships came to Earth, the authorities had converged on Broken Bow in less than an hour after the farmer lost his silo and the Klingon got shot. Their shuttlepod had crashed more than twenty-four hours--or a day at any rate--ago and still they had yet to see any sign of sentient natives. It was strange, like a reprieve they didn't deserve but desperately needed to take advantage of.

"That's why we can only rest an hour," he told her. "They'll come. We just have to get lost in those trees before they do."

Hoshi carefully laid herself down on her side on the rough ground. "What about you?" she asked, looking up at him.

"What about me?" he asked in return, hoping to put her off. He was exhausted but he wouldn't sleep until he felt they were both safe in those trees. "I'm not sleepy." He could tell by her expression that she wasn't buying it. "Hoshi," he began again, "I'm responsible for this mission and that means that I'm responsible for our protection and safety until help comes."

"And if it takes a week, you're still not going to sleep?" she challenged. "You're shaking."

That, he had not expected. "Shaking?"

She nodded. "Your left hand. Look at it. You're as exhausted as I am, maybe more."

"It won't take a week to reach those trees," he told her, hoping that she'd take the compromise. "Once we can find a hiding place, we can take turns on watch."

She eyed him suspiciously but was too tired to keep up the fight. "I'll hold you to it," she said finally, and then closed her eyes.

The sun overhead was oppressive. The air was so thick it felt like walking through lava. And maybe that's what put the thought into her head. Whatever caused it, she felt like encouraging it, if for nothing else than to liven up the monotony of walking through a barren desert under a baking sun.

So she said it, "Well, I could just pretend we're marching through Mordor."

Reed stopped, but only for a second. "Mordor?" She worried for a moment that he might think she was being ridiculous or succumbing to the heat. "Well, which one of us is Frodo and which one's Sam?" he asked.

She smiled. It was the last movie they'd shown on the last six movie nights, because it took that long to show all three extended films. "You don't happen to have an evil ring that can make you invisible, do you?"

Reed handed her their bundle of supplies and then made a show of patting his pockets with his good hand. "Hmmm...must have left it in my other uniform." He then took the bundle back.

"You are the one carrying the supplies so maybe you're Sam," she said, smiling and almost forgetting the heat.

"But I'm the senior officer," he argued, handing her the bundle again, "so maybe I should be Frodo."

"Sam ends up being the hero, you know," she said, refusing the bundle.

"Oh, true," he admitted as he dropped his arm back to his side. "Frodo would have been killed by the Orcs or eaten by Shelob. And Sauron would have got the Ring and covered the world in a second darkness. Still I don't want to be Sam. I'd rather be Legolas, the archer."

Hoshi's smile widened as she looked over at him. "You sound like you've actually read the books."

"Of course I've read them."

Now Hoshi stopped. He stopped a few steps ahead of her and turned, letting the bundle go and holding his hand to his chest as if she'd offended him. "I'm British!" he said. "It's required reading!" Then he turned and started walking again, leaving her to get the bundle. "What about you?" he asked. "Who's your favorite? Aragorn?"

"Pippin," she replied, correcting him. "Though I admit that Elf looked very nice in the movies. And the way he said 'Boe a hyn neled herain dan caer menig.' Very nice!"

"Oh, I suppose you speak Sindarin now."

"Of course," she replied happily. "I looked it up in the computer's library system. There's not enough for complete fluency though. Still, it's a beautiful language."

Reed smiled. "I suppose you also learned Quenya and Anduniac."

"And a little Black Speech on the side," she told him. "So you read The Silmarillion, too? Anyway, you haven't said why Legolas."

"Yes, I have," he argued. "He's an archer. He never missed a shot--"

"--Except that guy with the fire."

"Blame that on the script writers," Reed argued, more seriously than the rest of the conversation. He really had read the books. "It didn't happen in the books. He never missed. Not even when he shot one of the Nazgul out of the sky. And even the Army of the Dead didn't phase him."

Hoshi gave that some thought and it made sense. Legolas was one of the strongest warriors and Reed was the senior officer responsible for the security and defense of Enterprise. But then it was her turn.

"So, why Pippin?"

To her it was obvious. "He's the youngest, the most out-of-place in the fellowship, unprepared for what he'd find. In the end, though, he finds his strength, his place. He was meant to go on the quest." She paused and took a breath. It wasn't easy admitting her fears, but then Lieutenant Reed had been there to see it when she screamed at the sight of those bodies hanging from the ceiling. "He's like me."

Kahrae was more alert than usual at breakfast, Baezhu noted. He was usually tired after a full night of guard duty in which nothing happened. Baezhu, himself, felt quite curious as to what could revive his nocturnal friend. It had to be something to do with the airship they had seen the evening before.

"So?" Baezhu asked as he tucked the three worms from his hands into his mouth.

"They saw it," Kahrae whispered, looking first over one shoulder than the other to be sure that no one nearby would overhear. "Colonel Gaezhur is hot to investigate. From what I heard though, they're confused about where to investigate. The airship was going south, so that's where Gaezhur wants to go. But Doctor Bishtae insists on going north, into Rihansu."

"The desert?"

Kahrae nodded. "Seismic activity, remember?. From the reports, Bishtae thinks something crashed. There were two events two nights ago."

"What about Air Control?" Baezhu asked. "What did they make of the airship?"

"Nothing," Kahrae told him, taking a rodent from its small cage. It squealed once before Kahrae swallowed it down. "They couldn't find it. It was there for only a second and then it was gone. There wasn't even an air trail behind it, remember? Anyway, you'll probably know more about it than me before the end of your shift. What's playing at the cinema this morning?"

Baezhu ran through the list of films. It was their tradition on Firstday, to go see a film after breakfast and before Baezhu's shift. Then Kahrae would go home and get some sleep before his shift began in the evening.

"'Carune the Primate' is supposed to be good," Kahrae stated after hearing his choices.

"You know I don't like science fiction," Baezhu reminded him. "I get enough science at work to know how ridiculous a sentient mammal is."

"Well, no action films then," Kahrae said, choosing another rodent. "I'm sure we'll get enough of action if we go to war with Buftanis."

"Comedy then?"

Kahrae nodded and it was decided. All thought of the airship was put aside for the hours of camaraderie they had before duty separated them again.

Despite the heat and the pain each of them felt, Hoshi felt their march through the desert to be almost pleasant now that light conversation kept them distracted somewhat. It was probably the most she had ever heard Malcolm Reed speak, even though she counted him a friend. Perhaps The Lord of the Rings was such a neutral subject that he didn't feel he needed to hide anything. She remembered talking to his sister years ago in an attempt to find out his favorite food. Knowing that he didn't open up to his family had actually helped her feel more at ease around him, strange as that sounded. It let her know she needn't take his distance personally. It was just his way. And she did like a challenge.

"Hoshi!" He stopped suddenly. "Look!"

Hoshi lifted her gaze from the sandy ground beneath her feet. She turned her head to see what he was looking at. All she could see was more sand, more shrubs, more rocks.

"On the horizon," he prompted. "The dark line."

She looked again. There did seem to be a dark line at the edge of the horizon. "The trees?" she asked, unable to keep the hope from her voice.

"I believe so," he replied, " and if we keep going, we might just make it by late afternoon."

Hoshi sighed in relief. She had felt all her exhaustion come back to her when they stopped. But if it meant an end in sight, she could will her legs to keep going. And her lungs to keep breathing. It was getting harder. Her ribs felt like a pair of knives thrust into her side and she could feel them scratch at the edge of each breath she inhaled.

"Hoshi?" Malcolm asked, stepping closer to her.

"I'm okay," she lied. "Let's go. I'm looking forward to a long night's sleep for a change." She took a few steps, but when he didn't follow, she turned back--too sharply, but she wasn't thinking about her ribs just then. "Look," she told him and pointed to the dust cloud on the opposite horizon. "I think they're coming."