The Proxima Affair

[Tabor Nansk 0]

Chapter Five

From Beta to Gamma

 

 

 

5.1

Gamma Quadrant

 

USS Reaent

 

 

 

In thirty seconds, the Reaent had gone from the Beta Quadrant to the Gamma Quadrant. That was the good news. The bad news was they had four Romulan warbirds on their way through the wormhole bent on their destruction. The worse news was what was once one of Star Fleet’s finest ships was now a crumbling wreck and virtually defenseless.

 

At the helm, Lt. Murray stared at his incomprehensible screen. “Where…where are we?”

 

Anna’s Science console slowly stabilized and provided an answer. “We’re in the Gamma Quadrant! Near a binary system named Gheras.” A few calculations prompted more. “That puts us approximately two months from the Bajoran Wormhole.” And to herself, a scientific delight, “We're so close to the Valladro Nebula!”

 

Unaware of the following enemy, the bridge spent precious minutes orienting themselves to their newfound situation.

 

“No evidence of Romulan pursuit?” asked the Captain.

 

“None on my sensors,” answered Murray.

 

“Captain, the wormhole appears to have been created artificially and is stable,” reported Anna. “At least from what I can tell.”

 

The Captain shook his head. “Begin a full analysis of any readings we took during our transit through the wormhole. Specifically, I want an answer to if it is truly stable...and how it got here. Helm, Mark the known location of the wormhole exit, then start us on a course that will swing us back by here in about an hour. Impulse only. I don't want to be sitting at the doorstep in case someone else comes through.”

 

It was then that Anna caught a glimpse of something unusual on her screen. She went over to Murray’s console and tapped the edge of his display, waiting to see if he saw it too.

 

“It looks too big to be a probe. It’s possibly an automated drone,” said Murray clearly intrigued.

 

“There was a stream of magnaton particles that we scanned as we went through the wormhole. Do you think this had anything to do with it?”

 

“Well we’re not going to get anything off of it from out here.”

 

“We could transport it in…?” proposed Anna.

 

Murray nodded and did a brief check. “Um, cargo bay two.” He notified transporter control of the target and then contacted Chief Scherer in Engineering.”

 

“Tell him he might want to put the drone in a quarantine field,” Anna prompted. “Just to be safe!”

 

Though the ship had left the immediate vicinity of the wormhole terminus, “best speed” at impulse, and their circular route, hadn’t given them much breathing room. When the sensors began blaring a contact alert, the crew found themselves confronted by four Romulan warbirds.

 

“Helm, get us out of here, maximum warp!”

 

The helmsman looked at the Captain in disbelief then dutifully selected the maximum setting on the warp drive controls. Not much happened.

 

“Four warbirds, closing rapidly,” reported Murray.

 

The lead Romulan ship opened fire with their disruptors, mostly for effect since they were still too far out of range. Soon, however, distance was not a factor and the shots began falling on their intended target.

 

“Aft shields are failing, sir.”

 

“Can we make it to that nebula and find a nice place to hide?” asked the Captain, not really expecting a positive answer.

 

Murray unbent from his console, faced the Captain and just shook his head.

 

“Didn’t think so.” The CO took a deep breath and decided to take a stand. “Helm, full stop, bring us about, one hundred eighty degrees. Mr. Murray, lay down a spread of photon torpedoes.”

 

Murray wondered if the launchers were even working anymore. He got his answer as the viewscreen showed four tracks racing out from the Reaent. One scored a direct hit and a severely damaged D’deridex fell back from the onslaught.

 

“Only three of them now!” cried the tactical officer.

 

The jubilation lasted only a moment, as more Romulan fire raked the crippled starship. Disruptor shots hit the main saucer section, Engineering and the starboard warp nacelle. Secondary explosions rocked the ship as more critical systems went offline. Multiple hull breaches made it obvious that time was running out.

 

“Complete shield collapse is imminent, sir!”

 

“Mr. Murray, transmit a distress signal on all channels and order all non-essential personnel to the escape pods.”

 

The Reaent threw one, last offensive volley at the Romulans like a punch-drunk boxer, making an all or nothing roundabout swing. The fire caught one of the warbirds square across the bridge and the ship exploded in a mass of tangled fragments. The remaining two paused in their approach, probably stunned that their prey still had any life left.

 

Suddenly, the last D’deridex split in half, sliced through by phaser fire from somewhere above and behind the Reaent’s saucer. Anna almost instinctively ducked as the stuttering viewscreen showed an Akira-class starship pass virtually within touching reach overhead and take up a position between the Reaent and the remaining Valdore. The last Romulan fired but the newcomer’s shields were sufficient to the task. Two streaking torpedoes found their mark on the warbird’s aft section, breaching the singularity drive’s containment field. The enemy ship was consumed in a fireball that Anna thought might reach them as well.

 

The Reaent was eerily still and for a moment, no one dared speak.

 

“Recall the personnel from the escape pods,” ordered the Captain. “And find out who that ship is! I need to buy her captain a drink!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.2

Personal Log

 

Lt. Annabelle O’Halloran

 

 

 

 

They were still alive!

 

Anna assumed that as time went on she would cease to be surprised. She continued

 

Monitoring sensors and organizing her thoughts while beginning the process of trying to interpret scans taken before and during Reaent’s trip through the wormhole. So much had happened so quickly.

 

The ship was positioned over a double line of some sort of marker buoys that were

 

transmitting an algorithm over and over that the computer couldn’t interpret. It became crystal clear what those buoys were for when the wormhole suddenly activated and Reaent was swallowed.

 

The wormhole appeared to be an artificial construct. This surmise seemed reasonable

 

based on the dead in the water drone and the over saturation of magnaton particles recorded by their Class 4 probe on its way in. The Fleet database contained a reference to an experiment done in 2372 by a member of the Trill Science Ministry. That experiment created a wormhole that lasted 23.4 seconds before collapsing and blowing everything around it to hell when the shields of a Class 4 probe, sent in to mimic an interstellar spacecraft, interacted with the tetryon field. The Romulans appeared to have found a way to stabilize the field. Hopefully, the scans picked up enough data that the computer could create a model that would be able to duplicate the effect.

 

And now, here they were, in the Gamma Quadrant. Two months travel from the Idran system, home of the Bajoran wormhole. It was incredibly exciting!

 

Naturally, she was keeping that thought to herself. The rest of the crew seemed to take everything in stride and exhibited a kind of grim, world-weary ‘We’ve looked Death in the eye and told him to go screw himself but we’re sure he’s coming back’ attitude. They had all seen so much and this was her first mission. She somehow sensed they would look askance if she mentioned how thrilled she was to have survived a trespass across the Neutral Zone, a cruise through Romulan space and a trip through an artificially created wormhole. She sort of got the feeling it was nothing too out of the ordinary. All in a day's work for Reaent.

 

The Assistant Chief of Security’s comment that the Romulan's ability to open a wormhole at will was something to be seriously worried about reminded her that the ramifications of having survived the wormhole trip were greater than her joy at having lived to tell the tale. She had no trouble recognizing the serious threat to Federation Security, but the sensors in front of her dazzled with data from the nearby Valladro Nebula and while the computer was analyzing, she basked.

 

 

 

 

 

5.3

Personal Log

 

Dr. Deborah Mathews

 

 

 

 

Debbie Matthews rushed toward the conference room but paused a moment before entering. She took a deep breath then stepped a bit closer allowing the portal to open with its familiar swishing sound. The senior staff meeting was well underway by the time she arrived. Everyone stared at her as she made her apologies and quietly slipped into the vacant chair beside the Executive Officer.

 

The CMO wasn't sure how many of the department chiefs had already presented their reports. She tried to listen attentively while Aaron Scherer finished his presentation but her thoughts kept drifting to the casualty report she would have to give. The XO already had a general idea. But the others didn't have a clue and that included the Captain.

 

And then the Captain looked at her. "How bad is it?" he asked, a tinge of dread in his voice.

 

She couldn't bring herself to even glance at him or anyone else sitting around the highly polished table. "I'm afraid it's bad," she replied, activating her padd. There was no point delaying the awful news so she plunged ahead doing her best to keep her voice from quivering. "We've suffered a total of 264 casualties," she began. "Of those, 58 are fatalities. That includes 34 MIA. We presume they were lost though the hull breaches."

 

She looked up to find everyone was again staring at her. The expressions on their faces reflected their shock. The Captain looked like someone had just stabbed him in the gut.

 

"Of the 206 wounded," she continued. "62 are in critical condition. That includes the 6 in stasis who were so severely wounded, we haven't yet been able to treat them. 98 were treated and released although some of them have been confined to quarters. There are still 46 hospitalized in serious condition. We're hoping to release most of them within the next ten days."

 

Deb closed the padd and slid it onto the table. "In short, about half the crew is either deceased or unfit for duty. Those numbers will undoubtedly change as time goes by....hopefully for the better."

 

The room was so quiet, she could hear her own heart beat. She looked at the Captain who was visibly shaken by the news. "One more thing," added Deb. "We're quickly running out of supplies and I mean everything from syringes to medications to surgical gowns. If it weren't for the generosity of that Akira’s medical department, we would be in even worse shape. As it is, we're rationing everything."

 

The Captain met her gaze and frowned. Then he looked at Aaron Scherer, the Chief Engineer. "See if you can free up more power for the Sickbay replicators."

 

Aaron nodded and Deb breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Sir," she said softly. "That will be greatly appreciated."

 

For a moment, no one said anything. Then the Captain's demeanor transformed. Once again, he was all business. The meeting continued and Deb settled back in her chair trying not to be distracted by what awaited her in Sickbay.

 

5.4

Science Lab

 

USS Reaent

 

 

 

After the Captain’s meeting with the senior staff, Anna made her way down to Deck 6 and Science Lab 2, still feeling shell-shocked. Dr. Mathews’ casualty report and Chief Scherer’s breakdown of the damage painted a picture much worse than she’d suspected. It hadn’t been easy to sit through and she’d been left with a feeling of helplessness. Fatalities were high and the number of injured was vast. It might have been quicker if the Engineering report had simply listed what was still working. To Anna, it sounded like the Reaent was currently beyond their ability to make repairs. They were heading home, but at their current speed it would take months.

 

The Captain said the Reaent had one last job to do before completely leaving the area. It was imperative, he said, to seal the terminus of the wormhole, the Romulans could not be allowed such easy access to the Gamma Quadrant. He settled on a plan to mine the wormhole entrance in a manner similar to what was used at the Bajoran wormhole during the Dominion War.

 

Anna and Chief Scherer were put in charge of designing the mines and determining the best method for their deployment. In this situation, there was one advantage about the Romulan ships - they weren’t powered by a matter/anti-matter reaction. They used a forced quantum singularity—a mini black hole. The wormhole was stable but Anna speculated it had formed because of instability in sub-space, a very small tear or perhaps nothing more than a thinning of the sub-space fabric. A very convenient anomaly if you happened upon it and had a device that could take advantage of it. And also a very unstable anomaly if a quantum singularity were to be exploded in its midst. The Romulans would have to think twice before risking the destruction of not only their ships, but perhaps even their own area of space.

 

Anna felt at home in the Science lab, more than she did at the Science station on the bridge. She tapped the screen and requested the computer design several mine grids based on all available information. While it worked, she brought up the scans of the Proxima captured right before Reaent had passed into the Gamma Quadrant. She felt strangely haunted by this ship. There were many stories of lost crews and ships in the annals of space travel, but the Proxima was different. She’d made the mistake of letting it become personal when she looked through the ship’s crew files. The scans showed no life pods. Had the crew been forced to abandon ship? The Reaent had almost been in the same situation in the same area of space and only the nearly miraculous, timely arrival of their rescuer had prevented it. The nearest planet that offered the remotest chance of survival was an L class planet 8.24 light years away, not really a chance at all. The computer announced the end of the program run and displayed the result that it deemed to have the most merit.

 

Anna tapped her comm badge and paged Chief Scherer. “Science to Engineering.”

 

“Scherer here.”

 

“Aaron, it’s Anna. I’ve got the computer’s results for a possible mine grid. I’m sending you the details for your evaluation.”

 

“Great! I’ve been working with Flight Ops on using the fighters to deploy them. Captain says we’re leaving soon and wants this plan operational sooner. Scherer out.”

 

Finished with her main task, Anna went back to studying the wormhole. Scans had shown a magnaton particle surge right before it opened and she was sure the drone they had retrieved played a part. The Engineering and Security team analyzing the drone were stymied by the fact that the device was an unknown design, but they were able to determine that the Romulans had modified it. Anna conjectured that its function was to act as a trigger, sending a magnaton beam to a specific region of space and opening the wormhole.

 

The preliminary report from the team indicated that the drone was intact. All they needed was an adequate power source to activate it. Anna wondered if they really wanted to do that. If the device was a trigger, wouldn’t it just open a wormhole back to Romulan space? The Reaent had barely escaped destruction the first time there, a second seemed suicidal.

 

Unable to come to a positive conclusion, she noted her findings, saved everything to her console computer and began formulating her report. The Captain would eventually want to know what the Science department thought and she wanted to frame the variables in the best light possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.5

Leaving the Proxima Behind

 

 

 

The mining operation went off without a hitch. The Reaent’s fighters made several runs and placed the mines according to the computer’s diagram. After everyone congratulated themselves on a job well done, the Captain ordered the ship to set course for Camelot Station, Star Fleet’s newest base in the Gamma Quadrant, located near the Bajoran Wormhole. It was going to be a slow trip: the Reaent’s damaged engines could only make warp 1.5 at best. Fortunately, midway on the journey was the Vorta home world and the ship might be able to make some temporary repairs there.

 

Anna had mixed feelings about leaving the Proxima behind. Everyone on board had been through hell on this mission and the thought of going home raised the ship’s morale tremendously. On the other hand, she was frustrated that the mystery of the missing ship’s disappearance had not been solved. Worse was the fact that the ship remained in Romulan hands. Just before entering the wormhole, the order had been given to fire on the Proxima, but amid the chaos and damage being inflicted by the warbirds, tactical had been unable to comply.

 

Repairs, as best that could be made with limited resources, proceeded apace and that spoke volumes about the crew’s resolve and ingenuity. Shipboard life returned to almost normal with most systems functioning at or above the 80% level. But as days became weeks, and weeks became months, the drudgery of the daily routine began to wear on some of the crew. Certainly, some of the adventures along the way helped perk up an otherwise boring trip, though one in particular, involving a temporal split, nearly killed them.

 

Eventually the day came when the ship arrived at the Bajoran Wormhole and the Captain ordered all hands to prepare for transition. When the Reaent exited from the terminus on the Alpha Quadrant side, a cheer literally ran through the ship!

 

“Helm, set a course for Star base 1123, warp three,” directed the Captain, smiling for the first time in months.

 

“With pleasure, sir!” responded the helmsman.

 

Throughout the ship a mild euphoria spread like a contagion – for most anyway. The ship’s counselor was still dealing with some residual effects of the temporal split and Dr. Mathews still had seriously wounded patients that required the expertise of her and her staff. But others, like Anna and young Will Tomlinson, found kindred spirits to commiserate and celebrate with.

 

When the Reaent arrived at the Star base, she was tethered to one of the outer docking arms. After the power couplings were made and a cargo umbilical attached to the hold’s airlock, the passenger gangway was maneuvered into position. It was almost comical to watch the flood of crew on their exodus from the ship collide with the influx of service personnel from the base. Almost unnoticed was the small group of uniformed men who boarded amongst the cargo trolleys. Two split off from the group and made their way to the bridge to see the Captain. The others converged on Engineering to corner Chief Scherer.

 

“Chief Scherer,” said one of the men flatly, “We’ve come for the Romulan drone you brought aboard. And, of course, all of the schematics and reports you’ve made concerning the device.”

 

Scherer looked suspiciously at the men. Uniforms or no, he wasn’t about to just hand over the drone. “And you gentlemen are…?”

 

The leader of the group flashed some kind of identification credential, too fast for Scherer to get a good look at it. “Star Fleet Intelligence. Now, where is the drone?”

 

“I’m afraid I’ll need authorization from my Captain before I can release anything to you.”

 

“That’s happening as we speak. Understand me, Chief, we’d like to do this quickly and quietly – for security reasons. You can either help us make that happen, or we can remove you from the process.”

 

Scherer was sure he didn’t like these men and he was equally sure that whoever they were they were nothing but trouble. But that still wasn’t enough to intimidate him into handing over the drone. Fortunately, Aaron didn’t have to make that decision. His comm badge broke the standoff between the two men.

 

“Bridge to Engineering, this is the Captain. Mr. Scherer, you are authorized to release the drone and any information you might have concerning its operation to these agents.”

 

Aaron tapped his badge in response, “Aye, Captain.”

 

The intelligence officer gave Scherer an oily smile that said ‘I told you so’. “Now, Chief, the drone?”

 

“It’s in quarantine in cargo bay two.”

 

“A wise precaution. Will you show us the way?” The agent held out a hand in a grand gesture. Scherer felt like ripping it out of its socket and beating the man over the head with it.

 

“Follow me.”

 

Within twenty minutes, the drone was crated and loaded onto an equipment trolley and escorted off the ship by workmen in the group. Scherer turned over all his findings on the device and thought the whole affair was over when the two officers who went to the bridge returned.

 

“Just one moment, Chief. Your Captain told us you were assisted in your investigation by the Science department. I think we should pay them a visit, don’t you?”

 

Scherer had no wish to bring the likes of these men to Anna’s doorstep, but he could see no way to dissuade them. The least he could do was try to deflect some of their sliminess by accompanying them and shield her from their prying.

 

“Follow me.”

 

Working in her lab, Anna was startled by the brusque intrusion of uniformed strangers. Aaron gave her an “I’m sorry there was nothing I could do” tilt of his head.

 

“Lt. O’Halloran, we’re here to collect all your notes and findings about the Romulan drone. May we have them now, please?” said the leader.

 

Anna gave a quick glance to Scherer, but the leader cut off her questioning look.

 

“Don’t look to him, Lieutenant. Your Captain has acknowledged our authority in this situation and given his authorization to release everything into our custody.” The man’s pleasant demeanor toward Anna turned icy. “So if you would please, the documents.”

 

Anna sighed inwardly in resignation. Something was wrong here but Aaron’s expression told her it was best for her to comply. She went to her desk and located the appropriate padd, reluctantly handing it to the man.

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant, Chief,” he said turning his head to address each of them. “I think it’s time we were on our way.”

 

The two agents left the lab quickly, leaving a vacuum in the room.

 

“What was that all about?” asked Anna.

 

“Beats me,” said Scherer. “But I’ve got a feeling in my gut those two weren’t Star Fleet anything.”

 

“Well they must be somebody important if the Captain went along with them.”

 

Aaron just shook his head in disbelief. “Oh well, I’d better get back to Engineering. We’ve got enough repairs going to keep us here for weeks. I’ll see you later.”

 

Anna watched the Chief leave the lab, his shoulders slumped in discouragement. She could empathize with the man, for the strange visit left her feeling empty as well. The drone had been her last contact with the Proxima. Without it, the lost ship was truly lost.

 

 

 

 

5.6

Heart of Darkness

 

 

 

Tabor was despondent. The Proxima mission had yielded no answers about his brother. Quite the contrary, he had more questions now than he had at the start. It didn’t help that throughout all of this, his Section 31 contact had been mum. It left Tabor simmering in his own imagination. He tried every construct he could put together to make a connection between his brother’s disappearance and the recent mission. Some were more tenuous than others, but in Tabor’s mind there was no doubt a connection was there.

 

The common factor in all the scenarios was the Proxima, still sitting in Romulan space. He had to get back there and was convinced the fastest way was back through the worm hole. Unfortunately the easiest way back, using the drone that triggered the opening, wasn’t an option anymore. Even though the Reaent had retrieved the drone on its way through the worm hole, once the ship had reached a Federation base, agents had come aboard and confiscated the device and all notes of the object’s investigation.

 

Then, to his joy, Tabor discovered that while it was in the hands of the Science department, Anna had made copies of the schematics she developed during her probes of the device’s inner workings. He had gone down to the Science lab one day while he was off-duty to commiserate when Anna made her startling revelation.

 

“I’ve been working on my own theories about the wormhole,” he was saying. “I’ve speculated from the start that the wormhole was an alien construct. I don’t think the Romulans really had control over it and were just as much in the dark as we were.”

 

Anna brightened and smiled at the clearly distraught pilot. “You’re right! We found a drone that is not Romulan in origin but does seem to have been used to trigger the wormhole.” She tapped her workscreen to bring up a different view. “Here’s the device.” As an aside she added, “It’s been confiscated by Star Fleet, you know.”

 

Tabor nodded that he did know. “This is the drone you discovered?” he said, pointing to the screen, a bit confused that she would have any information left after Star Fleet’s visit.

 

“It is!” she said, and then continued quietly, “I kept a copy of the schematics.”

 

“You got a look inside? Wow, I’m impressed!” He was more impressed by Anna’s boldness and deception with Star Fleet Intel.

 

“Well, it was Security that opened it. I just ran the schematics so we could try to reverse engineer it and reactivate it.” She gave Tabor a copy on an available padd.

 

Tabor’s mind was racing. “Were you here when Star Fleet grabbed it? I mean, how did they seem to you? Relieved? Confused? Anything that might indicate they knew of this thing?”

 

“It was in the cargo bay, so I don’t know how they reacted. They came here wanting to collect all my notes and data. Tabor, do you think what happened was deliberate?”

 

“It depends on which part you mean, but yes I do. I don’t know how much was planned, or how much just happened, but I think Star Fleet knew about the Proxima and wanted someone to check things out.”

 

“I really wish I thought you were wrong.”

 

“But you don’t, do you?”

 

 

****************************************

 

 

Tabor left Anna's office with a renewed sense of purpose. Her revelation of the alien drone was astonishing. The object clearly implied, in Tabor's mind, that a large piece of the puzzle was missing. That Star Fleet had swooped in and confiscated everything associated with the drone, immediately placing it under a classified status, spoke volumes about its importance and exposed a possible clandestine operation. The scope of this operation, its objectives and motives were still unclear, and certainly, as with any venture of this type, how much it was permeated with a "the ends justify the means" mentality left a cold feeling in his bones. It would explain a lot about how the Proxima affair was conducted and the callous attitude the Reaent had experienced upon returning to Starbase 1123.

 

Also astonishing was Anna's willingness to share her bootleg copy of the drone's schematic. It showed her to be a remarkable woman – first, someone curious enough to investigate an unknown and potentially dangerous object on her own; second, someone willing to go against authority in keeping copies of her work in light of Star Fleet's seizure of the drone; and third, her trusting instinct to give Tabor a copy of her findings, increasing the risk of her duplicity being discovered.

 

Tabor scoured the schematic, not really sure what he was looking at. He wasn't a scientist or an engineer. He was a pilot with a background in history. But he'd always prided himself on having a rational, logical mind – though recent events had pushed the definitions of rationality and logic right through the envelope. In any case, he was over his head with this diagram. By Anna's own account, no one actually knew what the device did, only that it worked as a trigger to the wormhole. Tabor thought that given those circumstances, it took incredible fortitude to even turn the thing on. His hat was off to the entire Science and Engineering departments.

 

That being said, Tabor had a bold plan of his own. He decided he didn’t need to understand the schematic, only to be able to follow it. He would surreptitiously recreate the device by wiring it into his fighter. There was enough room in the nose cone for most of the extra parts and by removing some unneeded interior panels and redundant equipment, he was sure the rest could be squeezed in. The only hang up he could see was the power supply.

 

He tried questioning Anna about how small a quantum singularity could be made. He theorized that the Romulans probably used their own drives to power the device. But Anna immediately became suspicious and he had to back off. Setting that problem aside for the time being, Tabor went to work on his fighter. His deception put a strain on his relationship with the Flight Commander and more than once he was reprimanded for letting his shipboard duties slide. Matters deteriorated to the point where Tabor was sure the CAG didn’t trust him any longer.

 

More inconvenient was his friend Will Tomlinson. Tabor didn’t like lying to the younger pilot, but he couldn’t have Will tagging along after him while he most certainly was jeopardizing his career.

 

“What’s going on, wing mate?” Will would say in his usual bright and cheery disposition whenever he found Tabor in the launch bay working on his bird.

 

“Still making repairs on my fighter. Just can’t get the parts,” Tabor would answer, not wanting to look the man in the eye. He would try to send Will off on a wild chase for some such thing, but was finding it difficult to continue to come up with plausible sounding reasons. Truth be told, Tabor didn’t think Will really believed him either. Tomlinson was a rare find – a friend who would stick by you even when you pushed him away.

 

Of course, he got caught. Even at a Federation star base, with personnel presumably screened for clearance, Security was on a heightened status. All the service workers coming and going, bringing supplies and making repairs on the Reaent needed to be supervised and monitored. It was the extra monitoring that tripped Tabor up in his plan. His trips to the fighter bay had been recorded and now questions about his activities were impossible to avoid. In desperation he tried to escape to the station, leading Security on a wild chase through the ship’s service corridors and access hatches. It was to no avail. Tabor’s downward spiral and hit bottom.

 

The Captain had him arrested and remanded to the custody of the star base’s brig. In a sense, Tabor was relieved. He never liked sending coded reports imbedded in his personal communications to Section 31. Besides, over the last several months they had never responded and Tabor wasn’t sure the story about his brother was really true anymore. Perhaps destroying his career was the only way to make a break from the agency’s grip.

 

Then one day he had a visitor. Tabor didn’t recognize the man, but his non-descript dark attire virtually screamed Section 31.

 

“Tabor, Tabor, Tabor,” he said, shaking his head, “What have we here? Your task is not complete.”

 

Tabor threw a sarcastic look around the cell and replied, "Looks like I'm at the end of the road to me.”

 

The visitor produced a reptilian smile. "You have so little faith in us, Tabor. On the contrary, your journey is just beginning."

 

“Who are you?”

 

“My name isn’t important, but I think you know who I represent.”

 

“Why haven’t you contacted me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. What am I supposed to do?”

 

The agent came closer to the force field of the cell. "Now listen very carefully to me, Tabor. We’ve been with you all along. Things haven’t always gone as planned, but that’s to be expected in an operation such as this.”

 

“Not as planned? That’s got to be an understatement. Who would have planned a disaster like this?”

 

The man turned stony. “What happened in Romulan space was out of anyone’s control. However, this…” he waved his arm around the brig, “this is your doing. What we’re you thinking?”

 

His despair turned to anger. “I was thinking that I hadn’t heard from you for months. I was thinking that whatever was going to be done, I had to do it. I was thinking that my ship was going in completely the wrong direction and if I was ever going to get back to my brother, I had to manage it myself.”

 

“Too much thinking, Tabor,” the agent said, laughing at his little word play.

 

Tabor thought it was a good thing he was behind a force field or the authorities would be adding a homicide to his charges.

 

“So,” the man continued, “here’s what we’re going to do. First, we get you out of this brig. That’s already in the works and you should be released shortly. Second, we need to get you back on board the Reaent. Your work there isn’t finished. You will be sent in a high speed pod on an intercept course to the Reaent where you will rejoin the crew.”

 

Tabor started to protest, but the man interrupted him. "No, your reunion will not be entirely pleasant but that has been taken care of as well. You will have sealed order for your Captain, for his eyes only. You will discuss this meeting with no one and you will continue on as we've discussed before.” He gave a quick snort. “I hope you’re not claustrophobic! And third, you need to be patient…and flexible. It’s the mark of a good agent, Tabor.”

 

“I don’t want to be an agent,” said Tabor.

 

“Perhaps not, but you are. Besides, you do want to help your brother don’t you?”

 

It was their trump card, their means of getting him to do anything for them. He could only nod.

 

“Good. Things will start to move quickly, Tabor. I have to go now, but we will meet again later.” With that, the man turned and melted out of the holding area and was gone.

 

Tabor bordered on despair. On one hand he'd be happy to return to his friends on the Reaent. On the other, well, he couldn't even tell them what was on the other. When the security detail arrived to set him free, Tabor accompanied them with head held low to a small shuttle port on the outskirts of the base. He squeezed into the coffin-sized pod and waited as the life support mechanisms were hooked up. He knew the procedure. A sedative would render him unconscious during the voyage - cushioning him from the crushing acceleration that would be required to catch up to the Reaent - re-awakening only when the pod dropped out of warp for the rendezvous.

 

Aboard the Reaent, the bridge had received communication notifying them of the scheduled arrival of the pod, but not who was in it. When the pod was retrieved and brought into the shuttle bay, a full contingent of security was on hand, ready for anything. The hatch was released and the occupant climbed out. To their surprise, it was Tabor Nansk. He faced their shock and hesitation with a sealed padd in his outstretched hand. "I have orders for the Captain."

 

It was another several months – into a new year, 2385 – and several bewildering missions later that brought Tabor the brink of resigning his commission. Then word spread through the ship that their next stop would be Earth – and extended shore leave for all. Tabor thought he would be able to use the time to find his mysterious contact and force a confrontation with the agency. He would have the truth, whatever it may be, once and for all. But alas, once again, Will Tomlinson stood in his path.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6

Earth 2385

 

 

 

6.1

Shore leave

 

 

 

“Big Bear,” was Will’s answer to Tabor’s question of where were they going.

 

“What’s a ‘big bear’?”

 

Will laughed. “It’s not a what, Tabor, it’s a where! Big Bear Lake to be precise. It’s our family home up in the mountains. Clean air, spectacular views, you’re going to love it. I insist. You’ve got to come.”

 

Much to Tabor’s dismay, Tomlinson insisted that he join Will and Anna at Will’s parents’ home in a small mountain town a few hours south of Star Fleet headquarters.

 

"You are going to pack a bag and you are going to come with me down to Earth and meet my family." Before Tabor could open his mouth, Will went on, "You'll love them, and my mom’s a great cook!”

 

Tabor tried to bow out of the invitation citing his interference in what he was sure was Will’s intention of introducing Anna to the family. But Tomlinson would have none of it.

 

“I want you to meet my dad. I think you’ll find him…interesting in light of your situation.”

 

Tabor didn’t think Will knew the half of his “situation” – and he certainly didn’t want to tell him – but there was no way out. He packed a few belongings and the two of them met Anna in the transporter room.

 

"Hello, Tabor," she said, giving the Bajoran a smile which immediately increased in wattage as she put two and two together. "Did Will invite you to his folks’ house, too?" It made sense, Will and Tabor were good friends and the Bajoran was probably in the same boat she was - no family within light years. "That's terrific," Anna enthused, not giving either man a chance to respond. Visiting Will's family suddenly seemed much less intimidating with Tabor along.

 

The three of them beamed to a transportation hub, caught a shuttle and within a few hours were standing on the front porch of the Tomlinson home.

 

“Welcome to our abode!” said Will proudly.

 

Tabor thought “abode” didn’t begin to describe the place. Estate seemed more fitting.

 

Coming to the front door was a man that was an older version of the young pilot. He gave Will a small smile, "Welcome home boy." After they embraced, Jared Tomlinson looked over Anna and Tabor, "And who are these fine people?"

 

Beaming, Will turned and made introductions, "Dad, this is Tabor Nansk, my good friend and teammate." He then waved to Anna. "And this is Annabelle O'Halloran. a lady very special to me." Will turned to his two friends, "Anna, Tabor, this is my father, Commander Jared Tomlinson, Starfleet Special Ops."

Tabor’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the descriptor, “Special Ops”. Now he understood why Will was so fired up about him coming home with him.

 

Jared's smile held a small element of mischief and his eyes had the same twinkle as Will's. "Retired," Jared added before holding out his hand to Tabor. "Mr. Nansk, good to meet you. Will holds you in very high regard." Jared turned his gaze upon Anna and Anna saw that he had the very same intense gaze as Will though Jared's eyes were brown. "Ms. O'Halloran, a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to my home. Please set your gear down and make yourselves comfortable."

 

Jared walked toward his chair and they noticed a slight limp in his walk before he sat. Will motioned to the comfortable easy chair for Tabor while he sat on the couch and patted the empty cushion next to him for Anna. Feeling more relaxed after meeting Commander Tomlinson, Anna sank down on the couch next to Will and listened absently as Will and his father chatted.

 

Shortly into the conversation, a lovely middle aged lady walked into the room wiping her hands on a towel, her face lighting up like the dawning sun when she spotted Will.

 

"William! When did you get come home?! Come here!"

 

Will got up and hugged his Mom as she made her way to him. He held her tightly for a moment before gasping, "Mom! I can't breathe!"

 

She released him and gave him a kiss on the cheek before noticing that they had guests. "Oh and who are these people William?"

 

Will made the introductions once more. "Mom, this is my best friend Tabor Nansk and this..." indicating Anna, "...vision of loveliness is Annabelle O'Halloran. Anna, Tabor, this lovely lady is my mother Lisa."

 

Lisa smiled a purely motherly smile as she gave a small hug to both Tabor and Anna. She looked at everyone and then took Anna by the hand, "Come dear. All this testosterone is more than any one woman should be exposed to." While she led Anna into the kitchen, Jared stood up, "Come on boys, let's go to my study and talk."

 

 

**************************************

To Tabor’s dismay – though he wasn’t sure why he was dismayed – he ended up telling much more of his story than he would have intended. Jared listened thoughtfully and only interrupted to ask a few clarifying questions. Will, on the other hand, fidgeted restlessly on the couch. The young Tomlinson was a man of action and sitting idly while his friend was in trouble disturbed him.

 

“Let me make a few discreet inquiries, Tabor, and we’ll talk some more later. In the meantime, Will, why don’t you show your friend around the grounds. I’m sure your mother has Miss O’Halloran occupied in the kitchen so you’ve got some time to kill.” Will signaled Tabor to come outside with him and as soon as the front door closed, started in on his fellow pilot.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? I thought we were wing mates?”

 

“I couldn’t, Will. You heard what I said about my “visitor” in the brig. How could I bring you into this? And how come you never told me your dad was Special Ops? You really threw me for a loop there.”

 

Will just shrugged as if to say “we all have secrets”.

 

Tabor continued. “Now I'm not sure how I want this to play out. Is my brother dead or is he alive and being held prisoner somewhere? Which is worse? If he is alive, how can I possibly get to him? This “visitor” thinks I have some action to take, but it beats the heck out of me what it might be. Am I supposed to be on the Reaent to do it, or somewhere else in some other capacity?"

 

Will couldn't help but laugh, "What if worms had phasers, birds would leave them alone." When Tabor looked at him in confusion, he elaborated. "If I were to ask too many questions, my dad would ask that question about worms and birds. The point is, don't worry about the “what if's”, Tabor." Will put a comforting hand on the distressed Bajoran. "Have faith Tabor. The primary objective is to find out about your brother and we will. One way or another we will." Will smiled warmly, "Now forget about this for awhile. We have a short time left here. Relax and enjoy what is here while we have it, ok my friend?"

 

Tabor nodded glumly.

 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, my friend, I think I better go rescue Anna from my mother!”

 

With that, Tabor was left to his own thoughts. He watched Will head back up the path to the house, then turned to continue along the trail. He walked another hundred meters or so and was suddenly startled by a voice coming somewhere in the trees.

 

“Hello, Tabor.”

 

Tabor spun, trying to determine the location of the sound. From behind a large fir appeared a man dressed in dark clothing. Tabor shivered as he recognized the man as the Section 31 agent who visited him in the brig on Star Base 1123.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Relax, Tabor. Didn’t you listen to a word your friend said?”

 

Tabor was shocked that the man had spied on their conversation. “You can’t involve these people! What do you want?”

 

“I told you on Star Base 1123 that your role was not complete. It’s time for you to take a more active part in our plan.”

 

Before Tabor could protest further, the man stepped up next to him and pressed a control button on a device he was wearing on his left wrist. Tabor felt the tingle of a transporter beam and panicked.

 

“No!” he cried. But the sound was carried off into empty space.

 

 

 

 

6.2

The Dark Voyager

 

 

 

Tabor re-materialized on the pad of a grimy transporter room. Before he could continue his protest, the agent took him by the arm.

 

“Come with me, Tabor. I have something to show you.”

 

The man led the way down an equally grimy passageway. Tabor stopped in his tracks and demanded, “Where am I?”

 

Turning back to face his uncooperative charge, the man said, “You’re on the freighter Dark Voyager. Have some patience, Tabor, and all your questions will be answered.”

 

Tabor watched as the man continued along the passageway, as if to say “follow me or don’t”. He decided that just standing there wasn’t going to solve anything and quickly caught up to the man’s stride.

 

At an apparently random spot on the bulkhead, the man touched his wrist control again and Tabor marveled as a section of the wall silently slid back revealing an inner door. The man held his wrist device up to the security panel and with an audible click, the door swung back into a room that was the complete opposite of the dirty passageway.

 

Inside was packed with the gleaming electronics of a state of the art command center. The crew was attentively monitoring their consoles and displays, to what end Tabor could only guess. The man chuckled at Tabor’s confusion.

 

“Come with me, there’s more.”

 

His path took them up a few decks, down a few more and a couple of turns that Tabor was sure were meant to get him lost. It was successful. One grimy passageway looked like the next to Tabor. Again, the man stopped at a random spot and activated a wall section. This time when the inner door opened, Tabor found himself at the entrance of a well appointed bridge.

 

“Come in, Tabor,” greeted an older man standing by what might have been the command chair. He was dressed in a grey coverall that was absent of any insignia or rank. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Shepard, Director Shepard…of Section 31.”

 

By now, Tabor was nearly speechless. He looked around at the bridge, stupefied at the discontinuity between the modern cleanliness of this and the command center and the grimy façade of the rest of the ship.

 

As if reading his mind, the Director said, “Don’t let appearances deceive you, Tabor. To all outward observation, the Dark Voyager is just what you see…a run-down freighter plying the space lanes hauling, shall we say, lower profile goods. But underneath the surface is a different story. This ship is a match for just about anything that might come our way.”

 

“So why the deception?” asked Tabor, finding his voice.

 

The Director smiled. “We like to stay under the radar, to use an old metaphor.” Waving his arm around the bridge, “And don’t you think this is more in tune with the overall posture of Section 31?”

 

Tabor scowled, “I wouldn’t know. What am I doing here? Where are we going?”

 

The Director turned serious. “You’re here because, like we’ve told you all along, your brother needs you. As to where we’re going, even you, Tabor, should be able to figure that one out. We’re heading for the Neutral Zone.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

The Neutral Zone

 

 

 

7.1

Revelations

 

 

 

The trip to the Neutral Zone took about two weeks. The Captain of the ship hinted that the she could have made the stretch faster, but a showy display of speed wasn’t in keeping with the image of a “one step out of the scrap yard” freighter. Tabor virtually walked the entire distance, pacing his quarters and roaming the passageways as if urging the vessel to arrive sooner.

 

He saw little of the Director. The man spent most of his time in the communications room which, aside from the brief tour, was off-limits to Tabor. Instead, Tabor became acquainted with the “public” areas of the ship: cargo bays, crew quarters, mess halls. He suspected that what he saw of the engine room wasn’t the whole picture. Tabor was no mechanic, but even he could tell that what was presented wouldn’t push this ship faster than warp 5. How many other rooms lay beyond hidden seals he couldn’t begin to imagine.

 

Eventually, they arrived at the Neutral Zone and Tabor was summoned to the bridge.

 

The Captain and the Director were both present and the Director made a patronizing sweep of his arm to draw Tabor’s attention to the view screen.

 

“There it is, Tabor, the Neutral Zone.”

 

Inwardly, Tabor seethed with impatience. He knew there would be no signs or markers delineating the border, nothing to set it apart from the vast expanse of stars that was the galaxy.

 

“How would you propose to cross it?” asked the Captain.

 

Tabor wasn’t sure what was expected of him in answer, especially since the entire bridge crew had turned in their seats to see what he would say. His hesitation drew a number of “helpful” suggestions from around the room.

 

“Fly right through, balls to the wall, guns blazing!”

 

“Go real slow and announce we’re an Andorean freighter loaded with ale!”

 

“I know! Let’s disguise ourselves as a rock and just float across!”

 

The last elicited a derisive laugh from the crew and Tabor wasn’t so slow of mind as to miss the not so subtle dig at the technique used by the Reaent nearly a year earlier.

 

The Director came to his “rescue”. “Actually, Tabor, I thought we’d just drive on up and ring the front doorbell.” His nod to the helmsman and the crew’s subsequent return to efficiency made it clear that that had been the plan all along. “We’ll be there in just over four hours. I’ll call you when we’re ready.” And with that, Tabor was “dismissed”.

 

The Neutral Zone was created after the Romulan-Earth War in 2160. It stretched almost the entire length of the Alpha-Beta Quadrant border that separated the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. Its width varied depending on how sensitive – and how insecure – either side was feeling about what lay across it from their potential enemy. In some locations the distance was nearly twelve light years as in the sector guarding the home world Romulus. In other, thinly populated regions, however, it was a mere single light year in across. This was the case at the Hyralan Sector where the Reaent and now the Dark Voyager was making its penetration.

 

When the Director’s comm signaled their arrival, Tabor was back at the bridge in a heartbeat. The agent explained that the ship was roughly halfway through the Neutral Zone. Tabor had surmised that the quip about ringing the front doorbell was just that, but he was wrong.

 

“Comm, let them know we’re here.”

 

“Aye, sir.” The officer made an adjustment on his console and sent, “This is the freighter Dark Voyager holding at coordinates 357.29 mark 650.”

 

To Tabor’s astonishment a Romulan Valdore-class warbird materialized less than a kilometer off their bow.

 

“We have a reply, sir,” said the comm..

 

“On screen, Mr. Johanson.”

 

A Romulan officer, flanked by his subordinate, appeared before them.

 

“Director Shepard, how good it is to see you my old friend,” greeted the Romulan.

 

“Commander Omalar, it’s always a pleasure!” replied the Director.

 

The Romulan gave a shrug and then pointed to an extra braid on his shoulder. “Actually, it’s Admiral now.”

 

Shepard looked closer and said smiling, “So it is! Congratulations, Admiral!”

 

Omalar beamed. “May I present my Senior Commander, B’Ril?”

 

“Glad to make your acquaintance, Senior Commander. Admiral, I take it all went well in the Senate?”

 

“Indeed Shepard. Thanks to your assistance, the Tal Shiar has had its hand duly slapped and the Pro Counsel saw fit to place the whole affair into the hands of the Military….meaning, me!”

 

“An excellent outcome, Admiral.”

 

The Romulan waved with mock annoyance, “Oh, call me Omalar as you always do. You know my opinion about titles.”

 

Shepard laughed, “Yes, you love to point out how leaders come and go, but the little guys like us in the field always stay the same.” But the Director couldn’t resist one, little poke at his counterpart. “But Omalar, you are a leader now!”

 

“Sshh!” he said, putting a finger to his lips, “or I’ll never get the time to go fishing again!”

 

An astute observer might have noticed B’Ril close his eyes and give a gentle shake of his head. Tabor was speechless at the exchange.

 

“Did you bring the item, Shepard?”

 

“It’s in our cargo bay, Omalar. And you?”

 

Omalar turned and gave a silent signal to someone off-screen. Like an apparition, a second Valdore de-cloaked off the Petan’s starboard flank revealing within its protective cover a Nebula-class starship.

 

Tabor’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Is that the Proxima?”

 

The Director seemed startled, as if he had forgotten Tabor’s presence. “Omalar, may I introduce Lt. Tabor Nansk. It seems his brother may have been aboard that ship when the Tal Shiar first…acquired her.”

 

The Admiral nodded politely in return. “Lieutenant.”

 

Tabor’s restlessness was not unnoticed by the Director. “Omalar, speaking of people on board, would any of the crew be here today?”

 

A slight frown creased the Admiral’s forehead. “I’m afraid not, Shepard. The Military recovered the ship but there was no evidence of the crew. All of the escape pods were missing, if that helps you in any way. Perhaps with my new status I will be in a position to make further inquiries.”

 

“I hope that will be so, Omalar. So, on to business. Are we ready for the exchange?”

 

Omalar indicated he was. “Disengaging the tractor beam now. You may activate yours when ready.”

 

“Thank you. You have the co-ordinates my comm officer sent you for the drone?”

 

“Yes, Shepard, we’ve already beamed it out of your cargo bay.”

 

The Director just smiled. “You know it’s inoperative?”

 

Now it was Omalar’s turn to smile. “That will just make it all the more interesting, don’t you think?”

 

“I hope we see each other again soon, Omalar. Please say hello for me to your family.”

 

“I will do that, my friend. And you should know, my wife keeps asking when you’re going to get married again. She says a man without a wife is only half a man!” Omalar patted his ample waistline as if to prove his point.

 

“Tell her ‘someday’. Perhaps if I meet someone who can cook as well as she!”

 

Omalar beamed again at the compliment. “Oh, and my daughter says thank you for the…what is it?” he paused in a moment’s thought. “Ah, the IPhone 227.” He waved absent mindedly, “whatever that does.” His nod ended the conversation and the viewscreen went blank.

 

“Do we have the tractor beam engaged?” asked the Captain.

 

The Operations officer answered in the affirmative and satisfied the Captain. “Then back us out of here, helm. Make best speed you can towing our prize.”

 

“That’s it?” asked Tabor, still not believing what just transpired. “What about my brother?”

 

The Director turned to face the Bajoran. “If Omalar tells me he doesn’t know where they are, he doesn’t know.”

 

“I can’t accept that! What about the holodisplay?”

 

Shepard seemed resigned. “Yes, that is a bit of a mystery. Perhaps your brother left it aboard ship when the escape pods were launched. I don’t know. In any case, there’s nothing more to be learned here.”

 

With that, the Director turned and left the bridge, leaving Tabor still rooted in his place. The Captain and the bridge crew were all absorbed in their tasks, ignoring him as if he didn’t exist. Tabor never felt more isolated and alone. And hopeless.

 

 

 

 

7.2

Going Home

 

 

 

The voyage home was interminable, not that Tabor was in any hurry. Home. Earth, perhaps, but certainly not Tabor’s home. He felt like a man displaced, with nowhere to go. He couldn’t bear the thought of returning to Bajor to face his parents. What could he possibly tell them? Star Fleet? His career surely had to be in ruin. Section 31? Director Shepard held out that possibility but Tabor didn’t think he was cut out for that line of work. The Reaent? As if there would be a place for him there.

 

Looking back, it all seemed like such a waste. His brother had left his family believing he was dead – and now he might be. The Proxima had gone to rescue him, and now they were probably dead. The Reaent had gone to rescue the Proxima, and it took a virtually miraculous intervention to hold casualty numbers at around fifty percent. And Tabor had stubbornly followed a fool’s errand that left his future in doubt and a life seemingly without purpose.

 

The Dark Voyager’s crew left him alone to brood in solitude. He didn’t blame them for what had happened and there was nothing they could do to ease his journey back. An occasional “Good morning, Lieutenant” was all the conversation they offered, and to be honest, all Tabor could have tolerated.

 

When the freighter finally reached Earth, Tabor accompanied the Director down to San Francisco in one of the shuttles. The Proxima was hauled off somewhere undoubtedly top secret for Star Fleet to comb through for clues. Tabor didn’t care anymore. He melted away into the crowd at the launch complex at the first opportunity. He had ditched his uniform in favor of a non-descript coverall and no one was the wiser outside the main building.

 

He approached the ticket window at the high speed mag-lev transport station and bought a ticket heading south. “One way, please,” he said to the clerk behind the glass. Finding his train, Tabor located a compartment that was empty at the moment and settled into the middle seat, his bag occupying the space next to him. He hoped it would be enough to discourage any additional passengers.

 

The trip took only a couple of hours and Tabor used the time to catch up on some much needed sleep. Sleeping was difficult these days – too many dreams. When the train pulled into the terminal, the passengers spilled out into the bright southern California sun. Tabor walked out to the front of the station and found a row of taxis waiting for their fares. He motioned to the lead driver, got a nod in return and hopped into the back of the cab. Rummaging through his pocket, Tabor found the crumpled piece of paper he was searching for and gave it to the driver.

 

“This is going to be expensive, mister,” said the driver frowning a little. Most taxis worked on the principle of many short haul fares to maximize their profit during any given day. Tabor’s address was much further away.

 

“Not a problem,” said Tabor, and then began thinking about “money” and hoped it really wouldn’t be a problem.

 

Another two hours brought the taxi to Tabor’s destination. He reached into another pocket and took out all the currency he had and gave it to the driver.

 

“Keep the change,” he said and was glad the driver’s face indicated it was a sizeable tip.

 

As the cab sped off in search of more business, Tabor hefted his duffle bag and set off up the narrow road. The fresh air smelled wonderful and he filled his lungs greedily. It felt good to stretch his legs and the fifteen minute walk revived his lethargy.

 

As he approached the house, a golden retriever came bounding off the front porch to greet him, followed by a man and a woman curious as to their unannounced visitor. Their eyes widened in surprise as they recognized who it was.

 

“Tabor!”

 

Tabor ruffled the dog’s head and ears and dropped his duffel to the ground. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he said, “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson. I’m sorry to intrude on you like this, but I have nowhere else to go.”

 

Lisa and Jared were all smiles as they enveloped him in open arms, slapping him on the back and hugging him until he couldn’t breathe.

 

“Welcome back, Tabor!” said Jared, a hand on Tabor’s shoulder, looking him in the eye.

 

“Yes, come inside,” cried Lisa. “You’re home now.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End