A/N:Sorry for the late update, what can I say, RL is a bit of a you-know-what atm! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter and I'll make sure to post the next one as soon as I've edited it! :D

EFBT: No problem, I know all about RL issues, I hope nothing too disastrous is going on but in any case hang in there (I know I'm trying to!)! ;) Yep, Croft is a bit of a coward. And although I'm probably overly fond of slow pace romances, even my patience was severely tried writing this story, which involved an attempt to strangle my laptop when those two stubborn people show the chain of command waaaay too much respect (I know I wouldn't!) haha I'm glad you don't find the slow pace too annoying though, 'cause that wouldn't be my intention, I just like to add a little tension and not have it be all lovey-dovey, rainbows and unicorns wearing brightly colored flower crowns…I'll save all of that for later ;p So…that cliffhanger was a little misleading and I do feel a teensy-weensy bit guilty about that, I'm just gonna go ahead and blame the Doctor (sorry, Malcomus!) and his propensity to panic/overreact.. hehe sorry! Thanks for your review and yaaaaay for Monty Python repeats! ;p

ryekerb:Thank you for review! It means a lot to me to get your input on how you're experiencing reading this story. What I really liked about the series of TN is that they gave Nathaniel's character a lot of depth which in my opinion made him into the most interesting character (which in turn inspired me to start writing about him) and I'm glad you feel he has a similar depth in this story, that was my goal! :) I wish I could have more friendship moments between Hera/Malcom, but I guess that would make this into a very lengthy story and I want to focus on the romance part ;) And what's in the tree isn't in fact so horrifying, sorry for misleading you a bit there ;) Hope you'll like this chapter all the same!


Disclaimer: I do not own Terra Nova, this is purely a non-profit fan-made story.

Chapter 7

The crunching sound of circuits bursting and the angry, skin-biting spark it ignited instantly snapped him out of his rage. Nathaniel unclenched his fist, staring blankly at the crushed remains of his comm lying miserably in his palm. In his anger he'd forgotten he'd still held it in his hand when eventually it had lost its battle to his increasingly tightening grip around it. He dumped the now useless device on his desk, wincing as he noticed the red strip of painful raw skin where he had burned himself. Even though hardly of consequence, he deserved every bit of the stinging pain.

He sunk in his chair, elbows resting on the glass desk while one hand enveloped the other. It had been his mistake for not having been clear on this until now. Ever since the end of the occupation, he had known he'd have to make a decision about appointing a new Second in Command. But, just like five months ago, he didn't feel he was ready to replace Wash. It was but all too clear to him no one could. And he was pretty damn sure he was never really going to be ready to find a suitable replacement. No one had served with him as long as she had. No one had run the colony alongside him from the get go. There had been no one more capable, nor ever would be. Although he knew there were some candidates that could in all likelihood handle the job, he was unwilling to share his responsibilities with anyone at the moment. He also suspected a part of him simply yearned for Hera to be at his side every day. Then again, at the same time he knew he couldn't possibly afford to wait until she was ready to take on the particularly demanding task of serving as his Second.

Leaning back in his chair, Nathaniel let out a dissatisfied growl as he thought back of his meeting with Major Croft. Technically being the next in line, she had been far from happy when he'd called her in to finally put her in her place again. It wasn't like he enjoyed admonishing her like a wayward child and reminding her who was in charge, but he did feel it was something he should've done a long time ago. From the Major's furious reaction he could tell she hadn't expected his reprimand. On the contrary, it'd become clear to him she'd already considered herself his Second even though he'd never officially instated her as such. He supposed his severe warning had rid her of that illusion, for good with any luck, though she'd still managed to complain in a highly exasperated tone about being kept out of the loop regarding the break-ins afterwards. Astounded by her bold self-assurance he'd finally lost his patience with her and sent her away. Considering he'd been tempted to strip the woman of her rank there and then, he'd redirected his anger towards the innocent comm in his clenched fist as she'd obeyed his command with an insincere salute and left.

There was a hasty knock on his door that pulled him back to the present. He told whoever it was to come in, not bothering to sift the lingering frustration out of his voice. The door opened a second later as someone carefully peered around it to ascertain if it was safe to enter. Nathaniel instantly got to his feet, his scowl dissolving the moment he recognized Hera. He hadn't expected her to come by today seeing it was her day off. She looked slightly out of place as she was wearing her t-shirt and shorts instead of the uniform she usually wore when she'd come in to report.

"Commander Taylor? I'm sorry to disturb-" She began but he overrode her, welcoming the distraction from his brooding thoughts. "You're not. Come in." He told her somewhat gruffly due to the annoyance he felt for Croft still coursing through his veins. He gestured for her to take a seat, not trusting his voice again to sound less angry yet. He was half way back to his own when he noticed she hadn't moved.

"What's wrong?" He retraced his steps and approached her as she turned to close the door softly behind her. "Are you alright?" He asked her with genuine concern, realizing her face looked heated, as if she'd just run a mile.

"I tried to radio you, but I didn't get a response-" She started to explain, pausing abruptly when her eyes wandered over to the desk on which his comm lay scattered in a miserable heap of twisted cabling seemingly crawling out of its cracked casing. She blinked a couple of times, opening and closing her mouth. "I'll explain later." Nathaniel urged her after waving his hand distractedly in the direction of his desk to show her it wasn't important right now and motioned her to continue.

"I've just come from the farmlands. We might have a problem.." She announced, grabbing her side as a sudden stitch no doubt presented itself. Having a very good reason to remember that particular place in the colony with fondness seeing it was where he'd kissed her for the first time, Nathaniel frowned.

"What kind of problem?" He inquired, a sense of foreboding stirring inside of him. Hera let out a long breath before answering, worry etched on her face, "Looks like that mold could be back. Malcolm's taking some samples now but he fears half of the crops could've already been infected by now."

"I thought that beetle had fixed that particular problem for us?" Nathaniel suggested hopefully, recalling the green-armored insect with its distinctive antler shaped mandibles.

Hera shook her head in evident disappointment, placing her hands on her hips as if in defiance of nature's resilience in ruining their food supply.

Nathaniel had to admit, when he opened the door to the outbuilding at the heart of the farmlands not ten minutes later, he kind of agreed with her. Nature, it seemed, really had tried its hardest to deprive them of anything edible. He walked past the containers storing different seeds, every step he took heavier than the one before. Not only had the mold returned and infected roughly one third of the crops, including that which they'd harvested recently, it had also managed to successfully infiltrate the outbuilding. Coming to a halt in front of the last container he buried his hand in the seeds, next moment scoping up a handful of rotten wheat grains that were more likely than not useless to the colony now. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully he looked up as Malcolm entered, a team of scientists in his wake. Holding on to the withered grains still cupped in his hand, Nathaniel sincerely hoped the man would come up with a solution for this. And come up with it soon. If he didn't, he honestly didn't want to know what trouble they were in for..


Dusk had painted the sky a deep grayish purple when Nathaniel left the farmlands behind. With purposeful strides he headed straight for the one place in Terra Nova he had no wish to be. But he knew he had to go there. For the colony's sake. Although they'd done everything they could to protect the crops and seeds that were still free of the mold, the damage done had already been considerable. To be on the safe side he'd sent out some teams as well to forage for other sources of food that the wild provided. They'd had to stock up on as much as they could. He was adamant they prevented this from becoming the potential disaster it could be.

He increased his pace trying hard not to imagine what would happen if they didn't manage to get this under control. For one they'd run the risk of a serious food shortage. And although he didn't believe that would lead to riots similar to those breaking out almost every single day on the Earth they left behind, he wanted to make sure the colonists did not have to suffer because of this. Fortunately, he had another card to play that would help him with this as well. The 'card' itself, though, had no idea of his intentions yet, and Nathaniel was pretty sure he might not want to be played at all. Not that it mattered, in the end he wouldn't have a say in it anyway.

"Commander!" A voice from behind urgently calling out to him had him come to an abrupt standstill. He turned around as Sergeant Baker somewhat hesitantly approached him. Nathaniel was struck by how pale the man looked. In addition he had dark circles under his eyes and something about the way he carried himself suggested he wasn't feeling that well.

"Sergeant? You feeling OK?" He inquired demandingly, motioning for the man to walk with him, he was still very much in a hurry to deal with the mold problem and couldn't afford to let any possible solution or help that would alleviate the situation pass by. Sergeant Baker, picking up on his haste, instantly shook his head though he tried to add something but stumbled over his words in the process. Nathaniel halted again and eyed the man more closely this time. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Baker looked tense, nervous even. Whatever was going on, the man clearly wasn't himself at the moment. With another pressing matter at hand, Nathaniel was sorry to admit to himself that the wavering man standing in front of him wasn't a priority right now.

He placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping it could pass for an encouraging gesture, then told him sternly, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like hell.. Go get yourself to the infirmary and have Doctor Shannon do a check-up."

Sergeant Baker started to protest but Nathaniel wouldn't let him. "That's an order, Sergeant. Wait for me at the Command Center afterwards. I'll be there as quick as I can.." He promised, his back already turned at the man when he mumbled a weak 'yes sir' before Nathaniel's thoughts were engrossed again by the problem at hand. He hurriedly covered the remaining distance and descended the stairs coming out on an almost hidden corner of the square. He took the steps with firm, confident strides on purpose to make his entry more intimidating, though the heavy footfall of his boots was almost entirely drowned in the noise of a static ridden music channel bleating out of an ancient looking radio.

Well, here he was. He'd arrived at the stinking den Boylan was deluded enough to call a bar. Brows instinctively furrowed in a disapproving frown, Nathaniel took a few steps inside. Pretending he hadn't noticed the bartender's displeased look at seeing him walk into his place, after all it never meant anything good was about to happen, Nathaniel cleared his throat meaningfully and placed his hands demonstratively on his hips.

"Everybody out!" He ordered in a raised voice to the handful of customers who'd come early and sat tucked away in shady corners behind even shadier drinks. There was a reluctant scraping of chairs being shoved back and some indistinct dissatisfied murmurs at the interruption. He waited patiently until, one by one, the customers had all climbed the stairs behind him and left. A last quick surveying look through the poorly lit space told him they were really alone now.

Nathaniel walked towards the bar, leaning his elbows on it and assuming a posture that was just subtle enough to be threatening. Getting one of the matches out of its wooden holder he tapped it a couple of times on the bar then flicked a meaningful look at the radio behind Boylan. It was still emitting an ear grating racket that only intensified Nathaniel's dislike of the place. The bartender simply stared blankly back at him, treating him to a mirthless smile which was little more than a wry tug at the corners of his mouth. Then, completely ignoring him, he went on cleaning glasses with the dirty cloth in his hands.

Nathaniel grinned to himself, amused by the man's attempt to deny him the favor he knew he must've come for. He never came just to catch up on good old times together. His hand reached for the holster strapped across his chest as he straightened. Maybe it was time he showed Boylan he wouldn't be doing him a personal favor this time. He would actually make him do his public duty for once. Next moment Nathaniel held the sonic pistol in his hand, raised it to take aim and thumbed the safety switch. The sound of the charging gun had Boylan instantly looking up. Upon seeing the determination in his eyes he swore loudly, put down the glass and threw the cloth on the bar in frustration. Nathaniel watched as he reached for the radio he'd not really been of a mind to shoot to pieces and angrily switched it off.

Satisfied with the result Nathaniel returned the gun to its holster, turned the match he still held in his other hand around in his fingers then brought it to his mouth and started chewing on it nonchalantly, knowing his feigned calm would only annoy Boylan more.

"What do you want from me this time, Taylor?" The man hissed through grinding teeth, "You've already all but destroyed the place once, thrown me in jail and accused me of being Mira's spy.. And all of this regardless of the fact that I happened to have saved your sorry ass-"

Having listened to Boylan's start of a no doubt long winding and pathetic rant with grim indifference, Nathaniel raised his hand now to stop him before he got too bored with the man. After all, he still needed to get what he wanted from him and this way he was going to get tempted to punch him repeatedly in the face too soon.

"You're not gonna offer me a drink?" He asked him instead, throwing him a hurt look as if he'd truly been insulted he hadn't gotten one yet.

An ironic grin split the barman's face at this, revealing yellowed teeth and adding loathing to the mad glint shining through in his eyes, "Why would I? It's not like you're going to pay for it.." He retorted, rubbing his thumb and index finger against each other greedily.

Nathaniel leaned forward, taking the match out of his mouth and pointing it at the man behind the bar who, coward that he was, instinctively retreated a few inches away from him. "I know you're probably not big on this, Boylan, but today I'm going to teach you about the wonderful concept of sharing.." He told him in a tone that might've sounded friendly to a stranger passing by, were it not for the intense and hateful stare accompanying his words, "Now.. Why don't we start with that drink..?"

Grimacing and clearly not looking forward to being taught that particular lesson, least of all by him, Boylan reluctantly grabbed a bottle from behind the counter and poured him a glass which he set before him with such force its contents swirled and spilled partly onto the bar as a result.

Not impressed by the pathetic performance of the insulted and mistreated bartender Nathaniel simply folded his hand around the drink. He raised it to him as if in toast and narrowed his eyes in mock appreciation before taking a sip. Allowing for a brief silence that riled the man behind the bar even more, he pretended to savor the bitter taste of whiskey on his tongue. It wasn't about the drink, though. He had no real taste for it anyway. It was about asserting his authority over the man, even here in his own stinking lair. And Boylan knew that too.

He put his glass down and, without looking up knew it was time to get to the point. "I know about your stash of provisions.." He announced, his tone calm as if he was remarking on the weather, but with a deliberate edge to it that Boylan immediately picked up on and had him tense up. Pinning him down with a fixed stare this time, Nathaniel continued, "I know you buy it in bulk whenever you can, so you can sell it on to vendors and customers at a higher price-"

"Standard business procedures, Taylor," Boylan interjected moodily, "not against the law-Your law.." He defended himself avidly and with acid emphasis.

Nathaniel shrugged rather carelessly before replying, "Of course. Technically you're at liberty to do so.." He admitted, then clasped his hands together and placed them in front of him much like a judge that was about to rule his verdict, "However, when the colony faces a food shortage as it does now, your transactions become tricky on the moral side of things real fast.." His voice had changed to a low growling whisper, causing Boylan to shift his weight from one leg to the other looking uncomfortable. While his eyes flitted nervously from one side of the bar to the stairs and back at him, he stammered in weak protest, "Now, look here, Taylor.. You can't possibly blame me for a possible lack of food I didn't even know anything about.." The man raised his hands in denying innocence, his next words an undisguised sneer, "You can't just take my provisions from me." He stated, planting his hands demonstratively on the bar in front of him.

Nathaniel simply shook his head at him, "I'm not going to take it from you.." He reassured him, stopping Boylan from plunging into another round of complaints. His mouth hung open somewhat stupidly as he narrowed his eyes in apparent suspicion.

"I don't have to," Nathaniel went on to explain, adding with a casual wave of his hand, "'Cause you're gonna share it with the rest of us."

"Share it?! As in, for free..?" The barman repeated and snorted in apparent disgust at the very idea while his eyes widened with incredulity.

"Catchin' on unusually quick today, aren't ya, Tom?"

The smug and indignant grin instantly faded away at this and was replaced by an unmistakably appalled expression.

"No." Boylan told him bluntly, stabbing a chubby finger at him and picking up the old cloth again with which he started roughly rubbing an already clean glass. Well, as clean as they were going to get in this place, Nathaniel thought to himself.

"Oh, you will.." He got to his feet, not in the mood to remain and prolong the futile discussion. "For if you won't cooperate, I'm going to shut this place down and have you walk out of those gates.."

Boylan wasn't enough of a fool not to believe in the conviction of that statement. For a moment he looked torn between swearing out loud or throwing him out of his bar. Then, realizing neither were going to have any effect on the stubborn man in front of him he lifted his eyes briefly to the ceiling as if in search of strength to utter the words he was forced to say.

"Fine.." He finally muttered darkly, putting down the glass and cloth again in defeat.

"Excellent." Nathaniel reached over and patted him on the shoulder, earning him a despised glare from Boylan. Ignoring this completely, he shoved the barstool out of his way, remarking with a satisfied grin, "Look at the bright side, Tom. Your first chance to prove that, under all those layers of greed and self-interest, there's a truly generous man.."

"Well, you know me, Taylor. Being the good citizen that I am, I couldn't possibly refuse.." Boylan snapped back, his voice laced with bitter irony. Nathaniel simply smirked at this, made to go and dug a terra out of his pocket. Balancing it briefly on his fist, he flipped it with his thumb so it soared through the air and casually landed on the bar before he left.

The men he'd requested were waiting for him at the top of the stairs. "Check out the cellars. Find me those provisions. They're there.." He directed them pointedly, glad with how things had went and even more so for not having to go back there for quite some time to come.

"Yes, sir. Are we to bring it to storage directly?" The soldier asked him, already motioning the others to head down the stairs. Nathaniel curtly nodded, hoping with the addition of Boylan's considerable stash of food they were going to be OK. One foot on the steps, the soldier turned around abruptly, a questioningly look in his eyes. "Uh.. How much of it, sir?"

Nathaniel cast a reluctant glance back over his shoulder. He could just discern Boylan's burly shape in the shadowy interior of the bar, standing with his hands in his side and looking ready to tear the head off of a carnotaurus. Taking care not to sound too vindictive, Nathaniel's mouth quirked before answering determinedly, "Take all of it."


A/N: Ok, thanks for reading, let me know your thoughts on it and just a heads up, next chapter's going to be kinda sad…just so you know! ;)