Break

Posted on Tue Aug 18th, 2026 @ 12:02am by Gamma Quadrant NPC & Commander Zhora zh'Roothi

3,680 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: 10. Rumble
Location: Iocarro
Timeline: 2439-10-20, 11:45

The lower maintenance ducts beneath the Outer Ring were supposed to be strictly off-limits, especially with the Sacred Strata groaning the way it had been all morning. But for Kael and his two companions, the narrow, unmonitored conduits were the only place to trade scavenged surface-trinkets away from the watchful eyes of the City Watch.

Kael led the way, his small, fan-like crest flattened tight against his brow—a habit his mother scolded him for, though here in the dark it kept him from scraping against the low, copper-sheathed ceiling. Behind him, Vanya clutched a flickering, handheld glow-rod, while young Oron lagged behind, nervously dragging his sandals over the warm, humming floorplates.

"Kael, we should go back," Oron whispered, his dry voice raspy with sulfur dust. "The elders said the upper crust sheared. The Watch is hunting surface-dwellers near the overlooks."

"The Watch is always hunting something," Kael scoffed, though he kept his hand near his belt. "Besides, the secondary venting shaft hasn't been used since our grandparents' time. There's no one down—"

A sharp, metallic clatter echoed from the deep fissure ahead, followed by a low, pained hiss that sounded nothing like the guttural speech of the Iocarrans.

Vanya instantly killed the glow-rod, plunging the duct into shadow, illuminated only by the faint pale-blue phosphorescence of the conduit strips. The three children froze, pressing themselves flat against the carved basalt wall.

Through a narrow gap where the stone had cracked open from the recent quake, a beam of harsh, unnatural white light sliced through the rising geothermal steam.

Kael crept forward on his knees, peering through the fracture.

Lying in the rubble of the collapsed crevice was a stranger. She was unlike anything Kael had ever seen in the ancient wall-carvings. Her skin was a vivid, shocking shade of ice-blue, and a crusted streak of dark blood matted her snow-white hair. But what caught Oron's wide, ink-black eyes were the two slender antennae protruding from her brow—twitching, curling, and rising as the stranger tried to sit up against the fallen rock.

The blue-skinned woman reached for her chest, her pale fingers searching her dark uniform before her eyes widened. She sifted through the dark rubble around her boots, searching frantically through the dust, but whatever she was looking for clearly wasn't there.

A low murmur of incomprehensible, fluid syllables echoed up from the fissure—a sound like falling water rather than stone.

"Is... is it a demon?" Oron squeaked, cowering behind Vanya.

Through the crack, the children watched as the stranger pulled a small, chirping device from her belt and began sweeping it over the basalt walls. She tapped its flickering surface with a focused frown, completely oblivious to the three pairs of wide, dark eyes watching her from above.

"Kael, look at her brow," Vanya whispered, her crest flattening in fascination. "Those things... they're moving on their own."

"She's heading toward the lower secondary vent," Kael realized, pointing quietly toward the dark crawlspace that ran directly beneath their hiding spot. "That path leads right under the City Watch checkpoints."

Vanya looked at Kael, then down at the solitary figure sifting through her gear in the pit below. "If she goes that way, she's going to walk right into a squad of heavy guards."

Kael looked at Vanya, then back down through the fracture. "And she doesn't even know they're waiting."

Unaware of the three pairs of eyes observing her Zhora zh'Roothi had taken an inventory of her remaining equipment and chewed her lip with thought. Tricorder, phaser, additional power cell, flashlight and three squashed ration packets. Aside from making a crude incendiary device that would likely trigger another cave in or easing any future hunger her options were limited.

None the less sitting in the cavern waiting for a possible rescue wasn't on her agenda. She needed to find the others and contact Enterprise for evac. Knowing Wilkam he was already putting things into motion and the carvery were already on the way having found a way to overcome the Benamite blocking their sensors.

Her tricorder had identified a passage ahead leading into another chamber beyond. It was narrow no bigger than a crawlspace but larger enough for her to wiggle through once she'd shifted away debris blocking the entrance.

Kael dropped onto his stomach, crawling closer to the fracture until his nose nearly touched the warm basalt edge. "She's clearing the debris," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the low, rhythmic thrum of the surrounding pipes. "If she crawls through that vent, she'll come out in the old drainage hub. That's right under Sector Three's guard post."

"We have to stop her," Vanya insisted, leaning over his shoulder. She gestured down toward the blue-skinned stranger with her unlit glow-rod. "If the Watch catches another one of her kind, they'll lock down the entire lower district! My father won't even be able to get to the thermal farms."

"How are we supposed to stop her?" Oron hissed, pulling at Vanya's sleeve with trembling fingers. "We don't speak falling-water! She doesn't speak stone! If we drop down there, she might use that black tube on her belt and turn us into cinders!"

"She didn't look like she wanted to turn anyone into cinders," Kael argued, his crest twitching thoughtfully as he watched the stranger haul a heavy slab of obsidian away from the crawlspace mouth below. "She looked... lost. Like when my brother fell into the sulfur cistern."

Down in the pit, the blue-skinned woman paused, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow as she cleared the final loose stones. She adjusted a broad metallic cuff strapped to her forearm, causing a harsh, narrow beam of white light attached to her wrist to sweep over the mouth of the dark tunnel.

"Hey!" Kael called out, unable to help himself. He stuck his head through the fissure, waving his arms frantically. "Not that way! Bad tunnel! Watch-men!"

The sudden movement coupled with the sound of rock on rock brought the woman instantly to her feet, the newly created opening momentarily forgotten as her beam illuminated something totally unexpected: a face and arms waving animatedly in her direction.

Instinctively Zhora's hand drifted toward her weapon as she assessed the new arrival that continued to wave and speak in a language she could not understand. Without her combadge to translate she couldn't know if it was friendly or otherwise and would need to think on her feet if they were to communicate clearly. Lowering her beam as not to dazzle the cave dweller she noted the size of the pale face with its inky black eyes and equally small arms Zhora considered if this was a juvenile.

Whomever their actions seemed to cause a stir from the outlet as she could hear more voices possibly from other children as they began to realise the consequences of their actions in seeking her attention. Unless they were backed up by an elder the Starfleet officer kept her weapon secure and moved closer to the opening.

"Hello," she called.

Kael flinched as the harsh wrist-light dropped from his eyes to his chest but held his ground. The blue stranger moved closer beneath the fracture, her dark eyes looking up with cautious intensity before uttering a single, strange sound.

"Hel-lo."

"What was that?" Vanya whispered, her crest flattening in confusion.

Ignoring her, Kael pointed aggressively at the dark crawlspace she had cleared, then crossed his forearms in a rigid X - the mark of the City Watch. He slammed his knuckles against the stone in a heavy, rhythmic stomp, pointing back down to the vent with a sharp shake of his head. Vanya leaned over the gap, pointing up toward their high duct. She made a walking motion with her fingers, then slapped her own neck, letting her head flop dead to the side with her tongue out.

She had to understand that.

The blue woman watched the two youngsters mimic some sort of message to her, their movements deliberately simply, at least in their opinion in the hopes she'd understand.

Thankfully some elements remained universal over the centuries and gulf of space and Zhora was able to understand the children were suggesting taking the newly created tunnel was unwise and potentially dangerous, fatal even.

She mimicked part of their message to prove she understood by pointing toward the tunnel and shook her head: "I won't go that way," she called. "I'll stay here," Zhora continued pointing to herself then the ground beneath her feet blindly putting her trust in their hands, perhaps foolishly.

Kael’s crest flared in relief as the blue-skinned woman pointed to the ground and stayed put. He looked back at Vanya, then down at the anxious Oron.

"She gets it," Kael whispered as his crest flared in relief. He looked back at Vanya, then down at the anxious Oron, "Now we just have to get her out before the Watch sweeps this shaft."

Vanya leaned over the ledge, pointing up toward a higher, darker fissure to the left a path winding away from the guard posts and deeper into the old, forgotten maintenance routes. "Up here!" she gestured frantically, making a pulling motion with her arms.

Oron tugged on Kael's sleeve, pointing in the opposite direction where the secondary duct sloped steeply downward into a massive, echoing vault. "Kael, look down there... through the thermal grate. Isn't that where the big sky-metal crashed?"

Kael squatted down, peering into the lower darkness. Resting upside down in a massive, sulfur-choked cavern far below the city’s drainage network lay the shattered, copper-scorched hull of the Robert April. Its primary shuttle nacelle was crushed, but its navigation array was still flickering with faint, stubborn emergency power.

Kael looked from the blue woman back to the giant metal bird wedged in the rock, his dark eyes wide. "She’s not just lost," he breathed, pointing down through the grate toward the wreck. "That’s her ship."

Unable to hear or see what youngsters were looking at Zhora had trained her beacon up towards the direction they'd been pointed to just a moment before. "You want me to go up there?" she asked with mild horror while her gaze raked the walls for purchase. "It's too high," she turned back to them shaking her head as she did so.

Kael pointed frantically down through the thermal grate, then at Zhora, mimicking the crash of a falling vessel with a swift downward swoop of his hand.

Vanya gestured toward a lower, sloping bypass, a narrow maintenance slide that bypassed the sheer wall and led straight into the lower vault. Kael pointed back down through the grate, making a clear connection between the blue stranger, the safer path, and the sky-metal wedged below.

Puzzled the Andorian frowned momentarily and tilted her head to one side thoughtfully and winced as her scalp, tight with crusted blood pulled at the wound. She watched as the two children repeated their gestures and frantic pointing once more before taking action, abet with more trepidation than previously acutely aware heading further underground would increase the distance between the rest of the away team and contact with Enterprise.

Stepping forward the cast her beam toward and down into the grate they were indicating and squinted into the void. Something metallic reflected back at her. Surprised Zhora crouched down to inspect the large metal object in more depth: "Well I'll be damned..." she breathed in awe at the sight of the Robert April shuttle craft peering from the depths of its cavern prison, scorched and battered but continued to emit a feeble stuttering light like a weak pulse.

How the craft came to be lodged deep underground the Commander couldn't fathom but was eternally grateful for the turn of events. She looked up to her audience with a wide smile before pointing between herself and the downed craft giving them an acknowledging nod that the wreck belonged to her.

Kael and Vanya scrambled backward on their hands and knees, pulling Oron with them into the dark, narrow shadow of the upper duct as heavy iron boots clattered loudly against the iron grates above.

Kael pressed his back flat against the cool basalt wall, holding his breath as his crest flattened in sheer panic. Through a hairline crack in the duct work, he watched a pair of tall, heavily armored City Watch guards stride past the upper catwalk, their brass-plated lanterns casting long, flickering yellow beams through the sulfurous gloom.

"Keep moving, patrol's clear," one of the guards rasped in a low, gutteral bark, his heavy boots echoing down the corridor before fading into the thermal hum of the lower precinct.

Vanya let out a ragged, shuddering breath, her dark eyes darting back toward the fissure. She crept forward on her belly and peered down into the deep vault. The blue stranger was gone, having slipped out of sight down the maintenance slide toward the ancient sky-metal bird resting far below.

"She made it," Vanya whispered, her crest relaxing slightly as she looked back at Kael. "She's down in the lower drainage vault with her ship."

Oron tugged anxiously at Kael's sleeve, his small knuckles white. "Can we go now? If father finds out we came down to District Four's vents..."

Kael looked down through the thermal grate one last time, watching the faint, flickering red and green emergency lights on the crashed shuttle glow like embers in the dark. He gave a quiet, decisive nod.

"We go," Kael murmured, turning back into the dark duct work. "We stay away from the main conduits, drop through Sector Two, and pretend we were at the thermal farms the whole time."

Skidding down the rough slope, grateful for the durability of her utility uniform Zhora arrived at the bottom of the pit where the Robert April lay, crippled but still blinking with life.

Her nose crinkled at the unpleasant aroma of sulphur which clung to every surface, herself included like an unwanted blanket on a tropical night as she approached the downed vessel.

It was upside down, the primary access ports blocked or buckled beyond use however, the forward screen had been damaged during it's journey into the depths, its reinforced glazing cracked like a spiders web. Under the weight of her phaser and reinforced boot Zhora cut herself a path inside.

As expected the internal space was disorientating, everything that wasn't tethered had been tossed violently around he cockpit, the rear compartment would have been worse Zhora noted as she picked through the clutter for something useful.

Under her touch the primary console glowed dimly displaying a lengthy list of catastrophic damage the craft had suffered under the barrage of falling Benamite. The fact the craft would never fly again didn't matter to the Andorian as she coaxed life into the stubborn grid attuning its sensors to track down the others.

Suddenly, a loud, high-pitched squelch tore through the inverted cockpit's overhead speakers, cutting through the low hum of bleeding power. The primary comm-array spat out a harsh burst of static, heterodyning violently before a heavily distorted, warbled voice burst through the noise, dropping in pitch like a dragging tape.

"...En—p-prise to... Away T-Team..." The signal whipped with a sharp, metallic pop of chroniton discharge, then snapped razor-sharp and crystal clear directly from the shuttle's secondary transceiver. "Commander zh'Roothi, do you read?"

Wilkan’s voice filled the cavern, steady and commanding despite a faint, echoing resonance that sounded almost three steps out of sync with real-time. "Zhora, report status. We are standing by to assist."

"Enterprise, I read you," Zhora replied with relief abundantly clear in her tone. "It's good to hear your voice, sir."

"The feeling is mutual, Commander," Wilkan’s voice returned through the shuttle's transceiver. The audio was remarkably clear, though an eerie, artificial warble subtly underlined his cadence; the unmistakable artifact of a signal punching through a localized chroniton field. "We have isolated your position via a micro-probe mesh network, but be advised, your signal is riding a heavy temporal wave."

A brief pause hung on the line, punctuated only by a soft, rhythmic hiss of static. "We are reading significant environmental interference down there, but our priority is locating the rest of the team," Wilkan continued, his tone sharp, direct, and unshakeable. "Galatea and Science are monitoring the temporal bleed from the Bridge. Report your physical condition, Zhora, and update us on any sign of the others. What is your situation at the crash site?"

The Andorian shifted restlessly at the news of temporal involvement in an already challenging situation. "I'm a little battered and bruised," the woman reported. "But nothing serious. I've not seen the others since the cave in, they could have been trying to call but my badge was lost too." Zhora sighed audibly wishing she could be more use to the others and the Enterprise. "The shuttle is intact, systems are limited with emergency power down to twenty eight percent," she stabbed frustratingly at the console as it continued to flicker with broken promises. "I can also confirm local civilisation having befriended some juveniles, unless I've mistaken their signals the adults are not so tolerant of outsiders. Has the probe network found any dwellings or society - could be where the others are being held if discovered?"

Inside the upside-down cockpit of the Robert April, Zhora held her breath as the secondary transceiver clicked back into life, Wilkan’s voice carrying through the speaker with that eerie, chroniton-laced echo, "Acknowledged, Zhora."

"The micro-probe mesh is expanding through the subsurface and we're working to trace the team's lifesigns," Wilkan’s tone came through, a pillar of steady authority through three hundred years of temporal distortion. "Our scans confirm an extensive subterranean network and populated districts down there. If the rest of the away team was intercepted by the locals, that's almost certainly where they've been taken."

There was a brief pause on the line, punctuated by the soft, rhythmic hiss of temporal static, before Wilkan’s voice dropped into a firmer, sharp cadence.

"Zhora, exercise extreme caution. You're standing in Iocarro's past, approximately 300 years, and operating alongside a civilization that our records list as extinct. Every step you take down there is a risk. Don't attempt to power up the April's primary systems or trigger an automated return; the energy spike could collapse the local temporal pocket or compromise the timeline. Hold your position at the crash site, use emergency power to maintain environmental shielding, but stand by. Once we find the others we'll have further instructions."

A sharp metallic click echoed through the speaker as Wilkan left the channel open on his end, his voice momentarily muffled as he turned away from the comm pickup to address his Bridge crew in the distant future.

"Filter the probe network for any communication bleed or power signatures matching Starfleet equipment within those subterranean districts," Wilkan’s command echoed faintly through the open line, crisp and decisive. "If the first team is being held or escorted by the locals, I want their location mapped and shared with the Commander before this temporal channel shifts on us."

Never one to sit idle the Andorian bit back her frustration at the order despite its necessity to reduce risk. "Acknowledge Enterprise, will maintain position."

On the comline the crew of the Enterprise discussed their next steps to try to rescue the away team, with Galatea locating the anomaly's epicenter as right above the shuttle. It wasn't until Lieutenant Anzai Sulu pinpointed the missing away team inside of an underground city below the shuttle that they really had a moment to breathe, but it was short lived as the Lieutenant explained that the city's geothermal core was near meltdown.

"... We have our target area. Now, we need options—specifically ones that won't risk our crew or cause further temporal incursions."

In the shuttle Zhora continued to listen as the facts continued to feed down to her entombed location as she paced restlessly on the ceiling of the inverted craft. Learning that the epicentre was directly above sent a shiver to her soul recalling with crystal clarity the devastating epidemic on Talu they'd accidentally caused by contamination - could their presence have caused another catastrophic event here that doomed a civilisation three centuries ago?

She shook away the thought before it took root and peered at the transmission she'd received of the subterranean network and location of the rest of the team, deep within the confines of the Iocarran city. She was impressed by the readings and absentmindedly yearned for a brighter situation to have studied it.

Her attention drew back into focus at the sound of Bernadotte's voice and dire warning: "- judging by the state of the core, we're looking at one or two hours at best."

The antenna on her crown stiffened in alarm while she eyed the coordinates estimating which route would take her towards the rest of the team and time it would take...

Another voice abruptly cut through her thoughts as if anticipating her actions:

"Commander zh'Roothi," Wilkan said into the tight-beam channel, "we’ve located the away team inside the Iocarran city, but their geothermal grid is going critical. Zhora, this is the disaster that wiped them out and you're all standing in the middle of it. Hold your position at the Robert April and don't engage the locals or reach the city alone."

"You can't be serious!" the Andorian responded hotly disagreeing with the instruction.

"I'm completely serious, Zhora," Wilkan fired back, his voice an unyielding iron wall. "You going into a dying city blindly solves nothing. Hold position while we formulate a plan. Out."

A frustrated groan rumbled from the Commander's thorat as the channel clicked off and she slapped the console irritably sending a searing pain through her hand. Cursing softly she shook her tingling fingers resigning herself to the wait and hoped the others could be safely rescued before Bernadotte's deadline struck.

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