Log Entry 131124.87

As we passed through the doors, each one of us gasped. It was not at all what we had expected. When you think of prisons, you think of small spaces: cells with bars of some description—like the one I found Warrior Troy in, but not this.
We emerged on a platform that overlooked a room bigger than our main cargo hold. It was round and deep—the full thickness of the station's hull: three decks deep. The sides of the room curved upwards and culminated in a transparent domed ceiling, and we were on a gallery that looked down through the dome and into the room.
Beneath us, the entire crew of the Earhart lay. Well, nearly the entire crew.
"I can't see any Marines," said Al.
"Or the Science crew," added Midas.
"We're about forty people down," added Rutter.
"Well, we're five of them, so where are the other thirty-odd?" I asked, fearing I knew the answer.
"Look," said Al, pointing to the far side of the room. There, a line of bodies lay in an unnatural fashion and beside them, I could see Rosie sitting, his head in his hands. He was crying.
"Why's nobody trying to get out?" I asked.
It was true. The crew was either sitting or lying down, but none of them were trying to escape.
"They're doped. There's a sedative in the air," explained Rutter. "I remember I couldn't think straight. I wasn't even sure where I was."
"Oh great! So even if we do open the doors, they're not likely to do anything!" I exclaimed.
"It's diplohyozone so it wears off pretty quick," explained Al.
Her knowledge of chemicals and materials was bafflingly large, so the fact that she had identified it was no great surprise.
"Okay, but how do we open the doors from up here?"
Rutter looked down at the large double doors to the bay and then behind him at the ones we had entered by. He turned to Troy.
"Was that room designed as a prison?"
"No, this was a research station. There were no cells. It was a shuttle bay for delivering supplies."
"How would you get a shuttle in there?" I asked, examining the doors.
"The floor ... it opens up onto space."
"That explains it then," I said, looking back to the pile of bodies. "When they're done with the crew, they'll just eject the bodies into space whether they are dead or not."
Rutter, meanwhile, had turned his attention to the doors and had found an access panel which he had levered off. He studied the insides intensely and then peered down at the doors below.
"I think they could open them from the inside."
"But they can't hear us," said Troy, "and even if they could, they're not lucid."
Rutter tapped the dome's surface with his fingernail. It gave nothing away.
"Hmm," he said. He turned and picked up the panel he had removed from the wall. He examined its edges closely, his brow furrowing, then turned his attention back to the dome. Constructed like a spider's web, the large panes of transparent material were framed by metallic struts.
Suddenly, without any warning, Rutter raised the panel over his head, gave an almighty scream and brought the panel down into the middle of one of the panes. It shattered like tempered glass into a thousand little tiny cubes that rained down on the Earhart crew below, but there was no reaction from them.
"They can hear me now," said Rutter and leaned over the edge.
"Captain!" he called.
"Nice one, Rutter. What about the sedative?" tutted Al.
"You said it was diplohyozone," said Rutter.
"Diplohyozone. It's heavy."
"Oh, yes!" cried Al. "Of course. It'll stay down there. Clever ol' Rutter!" she grinned.
"Captain!" cried Rutter again.
Down below, we could see the captain curled up on the floor.
"It's no use," said Al. "She's not with it."
My eyes scanned the crew searching for the most active member. They fixed upon the sobbing figure at the far end.
"Rosie!" I screamed, but he didn't hear me. I screamed again and again. The others joined me too, shouting his name, Dr Roosevelt. We bellowed long and as loudly as we could.
Suddenly, Rosie lifted his head and looked around, baffled and bemused.
"Rosie!" I screamed. "Up here!"
His eyes continued to search around him, but not up.
"Look up!" I shouted.
Finally, he did so, and as his eyes fixed upon us, he stood up. His eyes were red-rimmed from where he had been crying. He wiped them on his sleeve and peered up at us in disbelief.
"Rosie, get the captain!" I shouted.
He looked at me dumbly.
"That's an order, Doctor!" I shouted, clutching at straws. I was hoping his years of training would kick in and prompt him to act. Sure enough, he did. He nonchalantly ambled over to the captain and prodded her with his foot.
"I'm not sure that's the best way to wake a Klingon," commented Al.
"As far as I'm concerned, if it'll wake her up, he can shove a pain stick up her ar—"
"Rosie!" I shouted again. "Wake her up, damn you!"
The doctor kicked her again and she stirred a little, her arm lashing out to drive the nuisance away.
The doctor looked at her, then up at us and then back down to her. He looked confused but somewhere, deep within him, he knew that this was important. He bent down, grabbed the captain by her shoulders and hauled her into a sitting position.
"What's he going to do?" asked Midas ... and then Rosie slapped T'Roc.
We all recoiled in horror. Slapping a drunken Klingon was never recommended. Slapping one when you're not on best form yourself was even less wise.
"Arghhhh!" screamed the captain, rising to consciousness.
Her eyes opened wide and angry. She grabbed Rosie by his uniform and dragged him to the ground, swivelling to her feet at the same time. It was a beautiful manoeuvre, and executed with the grace of a ballerina.
Rosie hit the deck and found T'Roc standing over him, fist clenched ready to punch, but she hesitated. Rosie lay with his eyes closed, whimpering and pointing upwards.
"Captain!" I shouted. "Captain T'Roc!"
Slowly, she turned her head and looked up. There was a note of recognition on her face and let Rosie go, forgetting him in the moment.
"We need you to open the door," shouted Rutter.
T'Roc lowered her head, rubbed her eyes and looked up again.
"Open the door!" he shouted again, but all she could do was stare at us.
"We're not getting very far," said Al.
I had to agree. We weren't.
"I need to get down there," said Rutter.
"Do you have wings?" asked Midas.
"I don't need wings," Rutter replied and stomped out of the door. I followed and watched as he ducked back into the service shaft by which we had arrived and listened to him wreaking havoc within. A few moments later he emerged with a length of strong cable. He grinned at me and I couldn't help but smile.
Back in the gallery, he secured one end of the cable to a strut and threw the other end down into the bay below.
"Right," he said. "I'll get this lot out and see what chaos we can wreak. You get to AL3 and ... well ... do whatever it is you need to do."
"I'm coming with you," said Al.
"Good. I have a feeling I might need it, and until I get that door open and get some air in there, I might succumb to the sedative. I might need you to give me a slap or something."
"It'll be a pleasure," grinned Al.
Within minutes the two of them were down their makeshift ladder.
"Come on," said Troy. "Let's get moving. If they succeed, that's good, but if not ... well, we'll just have to manage without their distraction."
I knew though, that Troy was relieved to be rid of at least some of his visible friends.

Log Entry 131117.86

Luke led us down a short shaft, took a sharp turn left and stopped. He sank onto his haunches and closed his eyes. I'll be honest, my heart fell.
"He's lost it," whispered Al, shaking her head.
"Shush!" I hissed back and gave her such an icy glare.
"But if he doesn't know the way—"
My head whipped around. It came from Luke ... I thought. It certainly came from his direction but he was still squatting down with his eyes shut.
"Lu—" I began, but his hand immediately came up and was slapped across my mouth.
My eyes boggled in wonder. Was this a good sign?
The sound of voices in the corridor outside suddenly froze me. I didn't even dare to breathe.
As the voices faded away, Luke's hand fell from my mouth.
"Luke?" I whispered quietly.
He turned to look at me. He had a strange look in his eye, not quite glazed but certainly confused.
"Luke?" I said again and he burbled something at me. It was completely unintelligible. He dropped his head in despair.
I took his hand.
"Luke. Can you squeeze my hand," I commanded.
He squeezed it and I beamed a joyous smile at him. I let go of his hand.
"Luke, take the little finger of my left hand."
He had to lean over me to reach it, but he did and he took hold of my little finger by hooking his through it. It was a very sentimental gesture.
"He's lucid," exclaimed Midas. "His ability to vocalise has been compromised, but his cognitive ability is intact."
We had no time to discuss it further. Luke leaned forward and opened the panel to exit into the corridor. He led us out, down the hallway to another panel and into another shaft. This was even narrower than the last. We had to crawl on our bellies, dragging ourselves along on our elbows and it twisted and turned endlessly. Eventually, he brought us out again, this time into a deserted corridor. Troy was the last to leave the tunnels.
"This isn't anywhere near AL3!" he exclaimed.
"So where are we then?" Al asked.
"Near the detention cells."
"Luke wants us to liberate the crew," I said.
"We don't have time for this!" snarled Troy.
"No. Hang on a minute. Let's think this thing through—"
"We don't have time for this!" he repeated.
"No! You keep telling me that I'm not thinking strategically! Well I am now!" I retorted angrily. "Getting to AL3 is a problem. We're not invisible anymore. We need a distraction! What better distraction than if we can free everyone. That will give the Dancers something to worry about other than us."
Troy straightened his back and debated.
"Very well," he finally said and pushed past me to open the door.

Log Entry 131110.85

I will be honest. As Troy explained the way to Luke, it didn't look good. Troy's description and detail were second to none, but Luke watched blindly as Troy drew imaginary diagrams on the ground. It also became evident that Troy had a very good reason for not considering the Jeffries tubes and ventilation shafts to be a good way to navigate the spacestation.
The spacestation is egg-shaped with a hollow interior for ships to dock in. The 'shell' is made up of three decks that run around it in layers like an onion, so big that we didn't even notice the ground curving away beneath our feet. It explained why I had come up through the floor when I had left the Earhart too. What this all meant was that the decks and corridors run for mile upon mile with few shafts big enough to crawl through.
This all became evident as Troy pointed out the path he had intended to take. He also highlighted other key areas of the ship: air traffic control, engine rooms, crew quarters, the kitchens where we had taken refuge earlier, the various laboratories including AL3, the room in which he had been imprisoned, the interrogation areas, the experimentation rooms and the detention area where abductees were held.
"It's a veritable maze!" exclaimed Al.
"I told you," replied Troy. "And I have no idea if ... any ... of the ... service shafts ... run ..."
The end of Troy's sentence was disjointed with distraction and deservedly so. Luke had stood up and turned to the wall where he removed a panel and then disappeared inside. We all stared at the hole in the wall.
"Um, do you think we should follow?" asked Al.
Surprisingly, it was Rutter that stepped forward.
"On the basis that he seems to be the only one that has any idea what to do ..." and he too disappeared through the hole.
We all filed in behind and sealed the way behind us.

Log Entry 131103.84

The problem of our visibility remained. We may have improved our skill set with the addition of Midas, Al and Rutter but with the increase in our numbers, our invisibility had all but gone. It seemed that no sooner did we solve one problem than we found another.
This basic fact made itself clear to us soon enough. We couldn't travel the corridors without being seen so we had to find an alternative route.
"There isn't one," insisted Troy. "The kaleg controls are located in only one of the astrometrics labs."
"Can we divert them to another more convenient one?" asked Rutter.
"I don't know. As I keep telling you, I'm a warrior not a technician."
"Midas, do you think you could divert them?"
He shrugged.
"I haven't had sight of any of their technology. I have no idea how similar or dissimilar to ours it is."
"And even if you could," interrupted Troy, "you'd need to be in one of the laboratories and believe it or not, AL3 is the least used."
"Astrometrics Laboratory 3—that's where the kaleg was developed and is controlled."
"Is AL3 likely to be empty then?"
"It's a strong possibility. Unless they are scanning with the kaleg, there is very little reason to be there."
"So once we get there we'll be okay?"
"Probably, but getting there is the problem. The corridors to all the astrometrics laboratories are always busy."
"Then let's not use the corridors," I grinned.
Troy scowled in confusion.
"Can you walk through walls?"
"No, but just like any starship or spacestation, this place has conduits and corridors, Jeffries tubes and ventilation shafts. You used one yourself, to get us to the kitchens."
"But that was different. That was just a way to gain access to a room that's sealed up and disused. AL3 is completely different. It's so far away from here."
"But you know the way!"
"Only via the corridors. I wouldn't know where to begin if I had to find our way to AL3 through the shafts! "
"Then prepare to learn something new, Warrior Troy," I retorted. "Because if you'd ever served on a starship, as a member of the maintenance crew, you'd have learned one invaluable skill: how to navigate a ship by those tunnels," and I turned to look at Luke.
Of all the people I knew that could do this, Luke was the best. His sense of spatial awareness was uncanny. His sense of direction and ability to connect decks and corridors together to form a map inside his head was amazing, but I'd forgotten about Luke's predicament.
"Luke," I asked hopefully.
Slowly, he turned his head towards me. I couldn't help but beam him a huge smile. His brow furrowed in faint recognition. My heart leapt. He was still in there!
I walked up to him and took his hands in mine. His eyes fell to look at them.
"Luke, we need your help. I need you to show us the way." I turned to Troy. "Troy, explain to us how you'd get from here to AL3 via the corridors please."
Troy looked at me as though I was completely mad.