000Disclaimer, I own nothing at all - except for the OC's they be mine 000 Hugely sorry about the slow update, there's been a lot of storms recently and they kept killing the power irritatingly enough. Giant cyber cookies of thanks to my wonderful reviewers The Libran Iniquity, Volley, and Begoogled - you guys ROCK!

Anyway, enjoy! 000

A soft boom echoed in the background as all three men turned to look at Iyria expectantly. Or at least Walters did, Trip saw the look of resignation on Malcolm's face and knew it was mirrored on his own.

A million people.

It was so much easier when he could only see this simple machine.

"What now?" Walters asked quietly.

Iyria made shushing noises at him before turning to the wall. She ran delicate hands across the smooth surface mumbling to herself as she did so.

Trip watched her curiously. The silence was unnerving, serving only to highlight the distant ring of the clones trying to break the door.

Another thought struck him. Would destroying this…innocuous machine do anything? Would it stop the People? Or would it cause the remaining few to lash out and destroy Earth out of spite? Trip rubbed his face with a tired hand. Too many variables, too many lives at stake and not enough time – there was never enough time.

He cast another look at Malcolm. His friend had an odd expression, defeat mixed with determination.

"They'll be through soon," he heard Malcolm say softly, his voice so low Trip barely heard it.

Trip nodded briefly. "Hopefully by then she'll…"have worked out how to kill a million people, yet he couldn't bring himself to complete his sentence aloud. But Malcolm understood and acknowledged it with the barest flicker of his head.

Iyria let out a little sigh and a small section of the wall slid away to reveal a small control panel. She turned to them. "There are two more panels." She pointed at two different areas of the wall. "Somewhere round there, roughly –" She gestured with her hands "- this far from the corresponding pipe."

Walters moved instantly to follow her instructions, seemingly relieved to have something to occupy his mind with – if only for a moment. Trip nodded to Malcolm and moved to the site of the second panel.

Working up from the pipe beside him Trip ran his hands lightly across the wall. Slow, frustrating seconds past with no success, till almost as if by accident his fingers brushed against something surprisingly rough on a seemingly smooth wall.

A small panel in the wall slid away beneath his hand to reveal another little control pad. There were tiny symbols on each button but Trip hadn't a clue what any of them meant, they could be numbers, letters, anything.

"There's three separate codes," Iyria told them, "the buttons on these panels are numbered from one to nine vertically."

"Great, what are the codes?" Walters asked his eyes running up and down the buttons.

Iyria hesitated a moment and Trip frowned.

"You do know them don't you?"

"Give me chance!" Iyria snapped, she turned back to her control panel and they could almost hear whispered sequences of numbers as she lightly traced the buttons.

The boom outside gently increased in volume, Malcolm glanced back at Trip. Trip closed his eyes, he knew what that glance meant.

It meant they were quickly running out of time.

"I think the clones are getting closer," said Walters cocking his head to one side, a thoughtful expression on his face. "The sound of impending doom got louder."

Trip rolled his eyes and glanced across at Iyria. She'd stopped muttering numbers to herself and was now staring at Trip's control panel thoughtfully. A look of triumph came over her face.

"I remember the sequence!" she announced, off their expectant looks she continued, "the three panels are tied, there is in fact one sequence of numbers that is separated between the three panels, so I would enter the first number, then you –" She pointed at Walters. "- then you." She gestured to Trip. "Remember the numbers go from one to nine vertically, not horizontally."

Trip nodded.

"Right," Iyria inhaled sharply. "Remember, err…Joe? You type in every second number. And you type in every third number."

"Every third number got it," Trip repeated.

Walters nodded in confirmation.

Iyria turned back to her control panel. "If we input this code correctly a main console should appear that will let me wipe the system."

"And if you don't input the code correctly?" Malcolm asked warily.

Iyria made a vague gesture with her hand. "A gas will release and we'll all die."

"No pressure then," Walters muttered darkly.

"93, 34448, 367,"Iyria began slowly, carefully pronouncing each number. "8436. 93, 53276 367 8436. 93, 39478, 367, 8436."

Trip carefully typed in '843' and all four turned round to stare at the machine expectantly. For a moment nothing happened but then there was a grating noise followed by a small section of the floor slipping away near Walters' feet. Walters almost stumbled but Trip grabbed hold of him yanking him back. A sleek silver podium rose up from the new gap in the floor and settled into place a minute later. The control panel on top flickered to life.

"Not big on colour are they?" Walters commented as he gazed intrigued at the new control panel.

Iyria strode forward and delicately ran her hands across the control panel.

"Any more security measures we should worry about?" Malcolm asked coming over to look.

Iyria shook her head. "No. It shouldn't be too difficult to wipe the system now."

00 Meanwhile 00

Stanford paced impatiently back and forth across the bridge resisting the urge to shove Crewman Gough away from the tactical console. He'd always known he wanted command of his own one day, but right now all he wanted was to be behind the tactical console ready to protect his people.

Barrett flashed him a quick look of irritation before returning to her work, listening intently on all the comm. frequencies.

Stanford gave her a guilty look and stopped pacing. He knew he was being an irritant but he just felt a drive to do something, anything.

But there was nothing he could do.

He sat down in the Captain's chair his mind running over possible manoeuvres and attack patterns, at the same time keeping an ear out for an update on the position of the so far unknown craft.

Finally, five minutes later Gough's voice rang across the bridge. "It's the PITs, sir."

Stanford's head whipped round to face her. "How many?"

"Thirty," Gough reported her mouth tightening into a unhappy line. "They're moving so fast! They'll be within firing range in five minutes."

Thirty? Stanford's mouth ran dry. They were badly outnumbered against an enemy that required at least two of their ships working in tandem against one. He glanced at each of the bridge crew in turn and felt a rush of pride at the determined looks on their faces. "Raise shields!"

Stevens swivelled round in his seat to look at Stanford. "Captain Reed'll find a way to stop them, won't he, sir?"

"Of course he will," Stanford replied injecting more confidence and conviction into his voice than he actually felt. "He'll take down their base while we take down their ships."

"You make it sound so simple," Gough muttered to herself, her voice barely audible.

"If we couldn't do this none of us would be here," said Stanford loudly, making sure his voice was heard across the bridge. "I won't lie and say it'll be easy, but either we fight or Earth suffers just like the crew of the Alva, the Magellan and the Colombia. For their sake we will do this." He looked at each of the bridge crew in turn. "Captain Reed has faith in us, and I do to."

"Three minutes till the PITs are in firing range," said Gough quietly after a moments pause.

"Be ready with the torpedoes and phasers," Stanford told her, gripping the armrests of the chair tightly.

This was it.

"There's a message coming through from Admiral Archer to the entire fleet, sir," Barrett reported, her hand pressed against her earpiece. She smiled. "He's wishing us luck."

Stanford gave her a grim smile in return. "Keep an ear out for distress calls. Some of those smaller ships don't have the firepower we do. It makes them easy targets." He paused then added. "Orders too."

Barrett nodded turning back to her console.

Stanford released a slow breath and rose to his feet. He glanced across at the tactical console. Gough raised her head to look at him.

"Two minutes."

"Fire on the nearest ship as soon as it comes into range – target their weapons system primarily then the engines," Stanford ordered. "Stevens, keep us out the firing line of the other ships." He tapped the comm. on the armrest of the Captain's chair. "Bridge to Engineering."

"Keller here."

"Anna, the PITs are less than two minutes out," said Stanford his gaze fixed on the view screen.

"Don't you worry, Commander, I'll keep her flying as long as you lot try to avoid hitting every single shot sent our way."

Stanford smirked. "We'll try. Stanford out." He straightened.

The seconds ticked by at an agonisingly slow pace. It seemed like an eternity had passed before Gough announced the PITs were a minute away. His muscles were singing, adrenaline flooding his system as the image of thirty sleek, silver, deadly PITs crowded the view screen.

He could see the tension in his officers, could see it in the way they held themselves stiffly in their seats, could see the grim determination in others and gut-wrenching fear in the rest.

"They're in range!"

Heart pounding in his ears Stanford strode forward. "FIRE!"

00 Back on the Planet 00

Malcolm stood helplessly near the door as the floor suddenly trembled beneath them. "They're through the next door! Hurry up!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Iyria snapped. Malcolm could hear the fear in her voice as her fingers danced across the control panel.

"There's got to be someone inputting the codes," said Trip staring anxiously at the door. "They got through that last door pretty quick compared with the first.

"So anytime today would be fabulous," said Walters nervously, leaning over Iyria's shoulder.

The door to the room started to shake and the noise of something being thrown against it on the other side increased. Malcolm resisted the urge to pace, knowing it would only waste precious energy. Trip caught and held his gaze. They both knew that after this, it was over, there was no other exit. Once the job was done, the clones would kill them.

Malcolm briefly closed his eyes imagining his family. His heart clenched as his thoughts turned to his children, he'd never see them grow up now, he'd never see the people they would become. Trip crossed the room and held out his hand. Malcolm shook it firmly.

"I've done it," Iyria whispered her voice breaking.

A loud squealing noise ripped through the air, followed by the machine gently powering down. The comforting absence of the hum of the machine was the only thing that told them they'd successfully killed a million people.

The lights went out plunging the room into darkness.

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