Date: Thu, 29 Sep 1994 02:37:26 EDT Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Hobert@AOL.COM Subject: CHOICES, Part 09 of 20 Richie tried to make his way toward Freddie, who was still in his seat shouting orders over the com. More tremors enveloped the station when Richie reached the technician. The Immortal looked over his shoulder, seeing the monitor as it displayed the unthinkable. Cylinder Three, at the back of the station, was floating free in space, slowly moving away from Freedom. From the hole that once connected the cylinder, debris and bodies floated into space. From the unusual angle of the Earth through the windows, he guessed the station was tumbling out of control as well. From the right, he heard the engineering officer shout orders to his people through the com. Medical was busy coordinating the med teams. "Freddie, get back to the PROMETHEUS. Have they started deceleration yet?" A few keystrokes later, and Freddie had an answer. "No. No change in speed or course." "Damn." Freddie called up more information. "It gets worse, Richie." The blond technician pointed to the monitor, showing the free floating cylinder. "Three is moving smack dab into their projected path. If they don't slow down, or radically change course, they're toast. And they could take us with them." "Can you gain control using short-range?" Freddie tried. "No luck. They may still be too far, or...." Richie started running for the service hatch. "Keep trying. Contact Fitz, get all craft out. We may have to try and pull them off before they hit." And then he was sliding down several levels using the service ladder, followed by a dead run to his Lamborghini in Bay 0-0. Once in the seat, he engaged all systems, barely able to wait for the airlock to cycle, desperately wanting to blow the outside door. Then he was away, thrusters, blazing, the sleek vehicle at home among the stars. Calling up short-range sensors, he saw the EINSTEIN had changed course, heading away from the station. No other craft but his had left Freedom as he keyed ship-to-ship. "What the Hell do you..." he started as Lucas cut him off. "Not now!" the blond shouted. "I can stop them before it's too late. Engaging StarDrive. Hold on back there," he yelled behind him as the link dissolved. Richie watched as the shuttle jumped and shot out of orbit, heading toward the damaged PROMETHEUS. Keying his own systems, Richie followed, watching the stars shift and dissolve. His computer automatically displayed an ETA of eight minutes. A final sensor sweep behind showed two craft had made it out of Freedom, the station listing badly. Richie called up schematics of the Mars probe, searching for a usable airlock near to the bridge. Finding two prospects, he then switched to engineering drawings and control systems. Looking up as the one minute alarm went off, he slowed, piloting the Lamborghini in a smooth 180 degree turn. As he once again speeded up, the bulk of the PROMETHEUS slid smoothly next to him as he matched speeds. He keyed the com, praying the probe launch sequence worked. A rectangular hatch slid open, discharging a remote probe. Richie slid the Lamborghini into the clamps, keying the recall sequence. The clamps engaged, sliding the car into the bay. The door shut, air automatically being pumped in. With a *whoosh* the pressure was equalized, allowing Richie to get out. He raced through the dark ship, trying not to gag at the revolting smell of stale, putrid air. He burst onto the bridge, almost tripping over the prone Lucas, head and torso buried in wall. Starting to curse, angry at the risks the mortal was taking, Richie got kicked by the black booted feet. Lucas' disembodied voice yelled at him to check the navigation console for power, a few choice words snapping Richie out of his rage. Jumping debris, he reached what was left of the station, answering Lucas' shouted questions until partial power had been restored. Patching through to the Lamborghini's onboard computer, Richie computed a safe deceleration blast schedule and course corrections. The answer flashed back, the safest being minutes ago. Richie keyed in what he hoped was an unobstructed heading, shouting for Lucas to hold on, adding a silent prayer to the Goddess not to hit either part of Freedom. Engaging the engines, Richie was thrown across the room, twisting his ankle as he landed, more metal braces falling around him as the ship shook. Feeling the blast stop a little too early, Richie limped around the bridge trying to find Lucas. The blond dug himself out of a pile of chairs, helping the injured Immortal to activate another terminal. The blond quickly called up status diagrams, yelling that all life signs were concentrated in Science Lab One, midway down the ship. He also noted the DARIUS had docked at the closest airlock to the lab. Half carrying the healing Immortal, they raced down the main corridor, arriving at the lab door as Fitz and the others turned a corner on down the hall. With the sound of seals breaking, the lab door slid open, the two men shocked at the sight. Twenty-four crew members were crammed in the small space, most lying on the floor. Lucas rushed to a bearded Jeremiah, Richie hobbling just behind. Arriving, the scientist checked for a pulse and breath, exclaiming he had found both. Richie watched as the others gathered what was left of the PROMETHEUS crew, Fitz gently carrying an unconscious Gregor. An expletive from Lucas turned him back, noticing the blond was again studying charts on wall monitor. "There's a leak in the main reactor. She's gonna blow in less than five minutes. I'm keying automatic activation of the StarDrive in four. LET'S CLEAR OUT, PEOPLE!" he shouted to everyone left helping the injured crew. Richie struggled to lift his feeble son, Lucas doing it instead. They ran down the hall following Fitz, the hardly limping Immortal keeping pace behind Lucas. Reaching the airlock of the DARIUS, already packed with people, the blond turned to Richie, handing off Jeremiah to him. "We won't all fit. Where did you park your car?" "The remote probe bay..." was all Richie got out before Lucas punched the hatch close button, turning and running down the corridor, yelling in his pager for the EINSTEIN to move away. After the hatch shut, Richie looked out the plexiglass window, for once hoping the young man would make it. "Godspeed, Mr. Wolenczak." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Wendy glanced up from her monitor, looking out the glass windows. She gave a start of surprise as the hulking PROMETHEUS slid smoothly to a stop between the tumbling Cylinder Three and Freedom, the blue Earth acting as a backdrop for the whole bizarre tableau. She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, barely making out Freddie's voice across the room. "Engineering says her reactor's gonna blow... In ten...nine..." And then his voice echoed across the station. "ALL HANDS. BRACE FOR IMPACT. In five...four...three..." And then a flash of white, and the blackened hulk shot ahead, bits and pieces wrenched off as it sped wildly out of orbit. She followed it with her gaze, almost blinded when it exploded in a blaze of light seconds later. The shock wave shook the station, almost minor after the earlier ones. And then her com board lit up like a Christmas tree. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Richie stood pressed against the airlock of the DARIUS, unconcerned with everything but his son, still limp in his arms. When his eyes cleared from the blinding explosion, he vainly searched the dark for any signs of his car, any clue to Lucas' fate. He absently heard Fitz somewhere in front, piloting the shuttle to Freedom, trying to match the gyrations of the wildly tumbling station. He looked down at the sleeping face of Jeremiah, whispering softly. "We're almost home, my boy. Almost home." He hugged the body closer, wishing he could turn back the years. Back to a time they had known one another. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Jeremiah Russell dreamed he was far under the ocean, watching the SeaQuest speed off without him. Trying to run in the murky water, thick as molasses. Yelling for them to stop. He looked up, the surface miles away, his only chance at life. He kicked off his boots, climbing rather than swimming upwards. Ever so slowly, the murky water got lighter, the sound of waves crashing became louder. Almost there. His head broke the surface as he gasped for precious air. Good clean air, as he... ...sat up out of bed, gasping, coming face to face with a blond angel. Another gasp and he lay back down, his eyes focusing. "I *know* I haven't... gone to heaven, 'cause you...," he said. Lucas Wolenczak softly laughed as he sat on the bed beside Jeremiah. "Thanks for the compliment." His hundred kilowatt smile was genuine, but his eyes betrayed his concern. Jeremiah looked around, noticing he was in the medical unit of Freedom, one of the small, private rooms. He turned back, raising his hand with effort to Lucas' hair. "You let it grow," he weakly commented, the burst of energy he had felt rapidly fading. Lucas chuckled as he grabbed Jeremiah's hand, lowering it to the bed. "What happened, Lucky...," Jerry started, trailing off into silence, speech becoming an effort. Lucas frowned, deciding how much to say. "We managed to pull of all twenty-four of you out before the reactor went critical. Michaels, Going, and Hudson are touch and go, and Greg is... alive. You'll have to ask Dr. Mitchum for more details. I may be head of the Science Division..." "...but you still faint.... I get the picture." Jeremiah pulled his hand up to cough, noticing Lucas still clutched it. "Told you I wouldn't die," he said, turning his head to clear his throat. Lucas reached to the side table and brought back a glass of water, straw attached. "You came awfully damn close," he said, watching Jeremiah sip to liquid. Once done, he put it back on the table. "Everyone is waiting outside. Do you feel up to seeing them?" At Jerry's weak nod, the scientist got up, walking toward the door. A few quiet words in the hall, and then people started slowly walking in; Richie, Joe, Fitz, and a stranger. Something about the newcomer's long ponytail caught Jeremiah's eye. His memory of Duncan MacLeod had faded over the years, but enough was left to make the connection. The face was the same, but his uncle didn't look as gigantic, as towering as the superman Jeremiah remembered. Now he seemed normal, possibly a fraction shorter than Jerry. And as tenuous as the rest of them. "Uncle Mac!" he exclaimed, using most of the energy left. His pained expression brought worried glances all around. Fitz and Joe quickly offered their support, telling him they would return later, informing him how glad they were he was safe. Lucas stood by the door, not wanting to intrude, opening it for the two as they left. His father just stood there, looking, so he turned to Duncan, trying to think of something to say. It struck him that one person hadn't entered the room. "Where's Connor?" Both Immortals looked stricken, exchanging looks, but neither started talking. Duncan finally broke the stalemate, resignation tingeing his accented voice. "He's on Earth," Duncan simply said, wiggling Jeremiah's bare toes sticking up from under the blanket. "We'll talk later, when you've rested some more." With that, the Highlander left the room, a nod to Lucas on his way out the door. That left his father. Richie just bent over, kissing Jeremiah on the forehead and then messing up his son's hair. "Sleep well, and get better. I love you," was all he said, turning and leaving as well. Lucas only shrugged before turning out the lights as he left, leaving Jerry to rest. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The room holding the circular table was crowded, not only department heads, but all key personnel were present as well, crammed together. Richie looked around the room, mentally noting everyone was present. "Let's begin. We'll start with the PROMETHEUS. Anyone have anything to add to the report from the terraforming station?" Across the room, and older woman stepped forward, clearing people away from the viewer in the room. At fifty-one, Angela Davis still felt responsible for the people she selected to work for Camelot Industries. The revelation of a traitor was a devastating blow. She had flown here especially for this meeting, and the added strain showed. A picture formed as she spoke, showing a normal man, with an apparently normal life. "Samuel Jacobs, age thirty-five. Originally from Texas. Computer technician, grade Beta. Degree from MIT, joined us in '18. No record of a tattoo at any of his physicals. Cross referencing the Watcher database found no listing except a Martha and Brent Jacobs, who we believe are his parents. They were recruited by none other that James Horton." A murmur ran around the room from the few people who recognized the name. "Excellent work evaluations, no previous incidents. One of the Mars Project's top people." The screen faded as she sat along the wall. Richie nodded to his old friend, mentally adding space to his calendar to spend some time with her. The strain of the last decade had reflected on her health. {This may be the last time she uplifts. And she definitely deserves the rest.} Looking at his notes briefly, he moved to the next item. "About the PROMETHEUS crew..." Dr. Mitchum cleared his throat from his position behind the seated Mr. Wolenczak. "Four are still in critical condition. The rest are currently stable and good health, fine except for malnutrition and dizziness. I would like, however, to hold off questioning any of them for at least another, say, twenty-four hours." Richie nodded. "I concur. Would noon tomorrow be satisfactory?" The doctor smiled agreeably, issuing an apology at his departure. The door was closed before Richie moved on. "About the ship herself..." Richie offered, turning his chair to face the Engineering Chief next to him. The white haired gentleman raised his hands in helplessness. "Teelemetry enformation eese veddy leettle. Major dameege, all systeems. Now no sheep, no eeasy answers. Weel take time." No one but Angie could say where Guillermo was originally born, but all agreed English was not a language he did well in. But nobody could come close to him with machines, making the language barrier worth it. Richie sighed, knowing the man could find the solution, it just needed to be translated. The redhead thanked the Chief, swiveling back, moving on. "Any more word from the terraforming station itself, Freddie?" The technician looked terrible, stubble on his face and jumpsuit rumpled, the results of working forty-eight hours straight. "All reports indicate everything is going perfectly. No accidents, no problems, not even a broken fingernail. They've slipped behind the sun's corona, cutting off all contact for awhile. A long while. So maybe I can finally get some sleep." He looked pleadingly at his boss. Richie laughed, amused. "I'll buzz you in three months, mister. Next, Cylinder Three. Casualties?" =========================================================================