Getting Through

[Zog Gabrel 0]

Weapons fire erupted around the Midway’s egress to Pylon 1. Commander Nicholas Ayers waved other retreating officers past him, glancing over to the Ferengi security officer beside him. “We hold them as long as possible,” he called to Lieutenant Muon Quark. “If we give up ground, so be it. This is a delaying action.”

 

As if to punctuate his order, Ayers fired into the Midway. An orange beam lanced out, connecting one end of his phaser with an approaching alien, stopping its charge in mid-stride. The massive form tottered, then slammed into the deck.

 

* * * * *

 

The lifeless body jarred Zog Gabrel, himself lying a mass of debris and fallen bodies in the Midway. The Cardassian science officer stirred, shaking his head, and was rewarded by a searing pain in his left shoulder. He inhaled suddenly, seeing the debris, and hearing the chaos of the weapons fire on both sides of him. Where was he? Still dazed, he felt someone approach behind him.

 

Lieutenant (j.g.) Victor Images crawled alongside, keeping low from the weapons fire. “Are you alright, mate?” he asked.

 

From even further behind, a voice shouted, “Images, get yourself and Gabral the hell out of there!” Even in his confused state, Gabrel noted the El-Aurian accent, which always mispronounced his name; clearly, the order had come from Commander Ayers.

 

Images touched Gabrel’s wrist to feel a pulse.

 

In response, the Cardassian rolled to one side, blinking to focus. “Doctor?” he asked, starting to remember where he was. He groaned at the phaser burn to his upper torso. What was he doing in the middle of a weapons fight? This was no place for a scientist of his caliber.

 

“Zog,” Images prompted with some urgency, “can you walk?”

 

Gabrel flinched at more weapons fire, ignoring both the doctor’s use of his familial name and the question itself. Instead, he was struck by the fact he was lying here without a weapon. Or was he? “How long was I out?” he asked, suddenly intent on searching for something around him.

 

Images didn’t answer him either, instead reaching out to heft Zog over his shoulder.

 

The Cardassian yanked his arms back and pushed away from the lieutenant. “Keep your hands off me, doctor,” he snarled. Where did it go? Gabrel began to search among the debris from a crouched position.

 

Images’ voice was firm, “I was ordered to get you out of here, Mr. Gabrel, and I damn well intend on following that order.”

 

Gabrel stood, oblivious to the shots passing over him. Images leaned forward to forcibly carry him, but the Cardassian shoved him again, roughly. “Then I’m afraid you're about to disappoint your superiors.” He turned, still standing, and surveyed the deck around them.

 

* * * * *

 

Back at the Midway entrance, Ayers saw the two officers step into his line of sight. “Mr. Gabral, finish what you were doing and be quick about it!” he barked. “We're not going to be staying here forever!” Nicholas paused, recognizing the irony in his remark.

 

With some surprise, he saw the Cardassian shoot a look back at him. “Then go!” Gabrel shouted, stumbling toward one of the walls.

 

Ayers watched as Images used the distraction to pull a hypo. The doctor flipped it in one hand and reached out for the Cardassian’s prodigious neck.

 

But Gabrel had already spun around.

 

With surprising force, the scientist drove his fist into Image’s face, sending him backward.

 

Taking aim, Ayers growled “I'm going to kill those two myself.” Instead, he picked off two aliens approaching their position.

 

* * * * *

 

Jarred by the impact, Victor Images grabbed his face as he hit the deck. “Bloody hell!” he blurted. He craned his neck back toward the Commander and Lieutenant Quark, “Sir, he’s not coming!”

 

* * * * *

 

Undeterred, Gabrel knew what he was looking for – the reason he’d walked into the middle of this mayhem. At last, he saw it. An arm-length medical cannister leaned against a chunk of charred duriform. Gabrel darted toward it, scrambling over debris and another fallen alien to reach it.

 

* * * * *

Images could see the invaders getting closer to their position as more debris rained down on him. Cautiously, he rolled into a crouch.

 

“Get back here, doc!” called Ayer.

 

Despite the order, Images shouted toward his errant quarry. “Mr. Gabrel, come with me, now!” He saw the Cardassian lifting up some sort of cannister, like the ones they kept in sickbay. “I’m pulling rank,” he demanded, “You’re a civilian. Now, move!”

 

* * * * *

 

Gabrel could hear the doctor, but pulling rank was most certainly not the way to get his attention. Besides, he’d been committed to this action since he’d decided to steal the cannister from their sickbay. He knew he couldn’t let the Starfleet people just fall back. They had to drive the invaders from the station, from the system – with fear, if necessary – or Cardassia was lost, again. With nervous energy, he finished tapping in the combination to the cannister.

 

He pried open the lid, revealing the morphogenic gel they’d collected.

 

* * * * *

 

Ayers glanced back from the captain, who was working fervently on the computer relays, to the few people who remained in the Midway. He fired off three quick pulses, downing the aliens closest to Gabrel in quick succession.

 

“Doctor Images, get your… tail back here now!” he shouted again. “We'll cover Gabral as best we can!”

 

* * * * *

 

For his part, Victor stood up, nodded, and barreled back toward their position. He glanced toward Muon as he reached them. Her face told him the perimeter was falling. He could see others taking what shots they could; there were wounded to tend to. From among them, Captain Meve’s clear command voice announced, “Seal the hatch!”

 

* * * * *

 

His goal achieved, Gabrel looked up to see the invaders were nearly upon him. He glanced back towards the others. He’d hoped to be much further away from them; he’d hoped he could spread the contagion without exposing himself. But it was too late. If they killed him now…

 

He plunged his hand into the container, feeling the biomimetic ooze in his hand. He pulled back his arm, scooping the gel, and heaved it. Pain pierced his wrist and fingers and he watched the greenish goo impact on the closest cluster of aliens.

 

“Gabral,” Ayers bellowed, “we could have shot the canister!”

 

Gabrel registered the El-Aurian’s comment, but knew that he and Dr. Jones had chosen the L-647-X-7 container specifically because of its resistance to directed energy. The combination of its extruded duranium casing and magnetic suspension system made it ideal for encasing volatile and biohazardous substances, for which it was designed.

 

If only the toxin had been a liquid or gas , he thought with detachment as he plunged his hand in again. I might have been spared being such a crude delivery system. He charged toward the remaining aliens, flinging biogel in his wake.

 

* * * * *

 

Ayers felt the bulkhead behind him starting to move, closing. Still watching Gabrel running further into the Midway, he stepped back, placing himself behind the line where it would soon be sealed off from Pylon 1. Overhead, the computer intoned, in some nameless male voice: “Self destruct sequence has been activated. Two minutes and ten seconds remaining.”

 

Captain Meve had finally moved away from the console, shouting directly into the Midway, “Everyone get back here now!”

 

Ayers kept watching, seeing that several of the aliens had stopped firing and, although standing, were starting to stagger. Stooping to help an injured crewman under the half-closed bulkhead, he saw Gabrel look back and pause. Then he was gone, running further into the Midway toward the docking array, until a new column of arriving aliens obscured him from sight. Ayers fired off more shots for good measure, then ducked again and grabbed Muon by the uniform. He yanked her under the bulkhead.

 

The Ferengi kept firing even as she slid under the narrow clearance. She watched the door settle into place, sealing itself with a slow hiss. “Um, thank you, sir,” she offered. “Everyone get through?” She glanced around, trying to get a head count.

 

Ayers glanced through the transparent aluminum in the direction the Cardassian scientist had gone. “No, Lieutenant,” he replied, “everyone did not get through.”'

Edited January 29, 2004 by Zog Gabrel