A Scripta

Rusty checked the communications array while the two men returned and reported nothing was amiss. No one seemed to be answering anywhere. "Do you want me shut off the distress signal?" he asked, and walked away from the console as the captain replied, "No, just in case the Fleet is on its--" He stared at Rusty for a moment, and Rusty gave him a slight smile. "Sometimes I'm psychic, Captain."

Grey humphed and turned back to Chen and Moreau. "I'm not prepared to fan out into the city to find out what's going on," Grey said. "We stay here and wait for Fleet to arrive."

"Should we stay here, Captain?" asked Moreau. "They might think we had a hand in this."

"Fleet's not that stupid," said Chen.

"I already told them we're here," Grey said. Rusty turned back to the console just as a klaxon went off for a moment, then stopped abruptly. Grey watched Rusty, asking, "Any idea where that--"

"It came from within the building, three flights down."

Grey shook his head. "Let's wait for Fleet. I'm not going down there."

"I'm looking around," said Moreau.

"Don't poke around too much," Rusty cautioned. "Like you said, they might think we had something to do with this."

Rusty glanced outside the viewport to watch the robot drones carry on their programmed work. Just more than an hour had passed when the communications signal went off. "Indiana II, this is the Hefferen. Can you receive us?"

Grey walked over to the comm and pressed a button, "Hefferen, this is Captain Grey of the Irving. We just got here a little while ago and there's no one in the main hangar bay."

"We are sending a landing party. Hefferen out."

The four men took the 'vator back down to the bay to wait for the arrival of the Fleet shuttle. It took about another two hours before the bay doors opened to allow another shuttle into the dome.

Rusty stared at the sleek shuttle. It looked like a typical single-seater, but it probably held at least a three-man crew. He was surprised to see the shuttle doors open and a woman stood at the hatchway, flanked by two young men carrying photon laser pistols.

"Women," Grey spat. "Worst thing they ever did."

Rusty watched the woman step lightly down the ramp. "I am Lieutenant Christine Devereaux of Fleet Command. These are my assistants Ensigns Urla Carpenter and Michel Caron."

"I'm Captain Grey," the captain said gruffly. "This is Chen, Moreau, and Rusty."

She nodded to the men, though Rusty thought she might have lingered on him a moment too long. He preened.

"What have you found out so far, Captain?" she asked him.

"The place is deserted, at least here, though an emergency alarm went off - where did you say, Rusty?"

Rusty tore his eyes away from the woman and looked up at the captain in a deer-caught-in-headlights look. "Sir?"

"The emergency alarm went off," he repeated patiently. "Where was it?"

Devereaux did not smile at him, though Rusty thought she was just inches away from doing so. Rusty stared for a moment at the captain, and ducked, just as Moreau went to slap him on the back of his head. He still caught a glancing part of the blow, but it would have hurt if he stayed still.

"Hey!" Rusty said, and looked at Devereaux. He smiled. She watched him patiently. "Huh, yeah, right. The signal. Right, it came from three flights below this one."

"We should investigate," Devereaux stated flatly.