Chapter 4

Hard to Find Good Help These Days

"I don't care if you're scared-"

"I'm not scared .." The young soldier insisted, a frown creeping onto his face. "I just don't like the guy."

He realised how petty he sounded even as the words left his mouth, but there was no help for it now. His commanding officer was staring daggers at him.

"Look, whether you like it or not, Lucas Taylor is one of us now and we happen to need him, so either get over it and pull your weight or I'll find someone who can."

Gareth opened his mouth to attempt another tactic, but Reilly was apparently finished with the discussion.

"The thing is-"

"Dismissed."

Gareth blinked.

"But you don't-"

"Corporal Drew." Reilly's eyes glinted. "Dismissed."

In the event of special circumstances, Terra Nova's army structure was incredibly flexible. Shortly after the realisation had set in that they were headed for war, several long-standing members of service had been promoted to battle sergeants in order to facilitate the command of smaller groups of corporals and privates. Guzman was one such leader. The change in rank titles had in fact been his idea, a small yet significant detail which Reilly grew increasingly grateful for. With the influx of new recruits that wanted to join to help protect their colony, all the former Privates that had spent more than a year in the service had been promoted to Corporals. After all, they needed to take the newbies under their respective wings now, so it made sense to create a distinction between the two groups. As new complications continued to arise, the updated rank system made it significantly easier to organise the troops. The Sixers had also been assigned official ranks, but for some reason or another, they threw pointed death glares at anyone that tried to address them as such.

"Better listen." The sudden voice from the shadows at the edge of the room caused both occupants' hearts to jump, though to their credit, neither showed it outwardly.

"B-Battle Commander Carter-" Gareth stammered. Carter didn't acknowledge him at all as he brushed past.

"Hey, Wonky. How's the leg?"

Reilly glared at him, casting a glance at Gareth's retreating back, which was now shaking suspiciously. She turned back to Carter as her younger soldier disappeared.

"You shouldn't talk like that in front of the men."

"Why?" Carter dropped a sack on her desk. "He knows if he repeats it, he'll be taken outside and thrown over the railing."

"Look, I don't know how you Sixers deal with-"

"You Sixers?" Carter folded his arms and studied her with mild disgust. "I thought we were all supposed to be colonists now. 'We are one' and all that."

As Reilly opened her mouth, he intercepted her reply with a careless shrug.

"Yeah, I never went in for it either."

Reilly seeming to be calculating her response, but Carter interrupted her thoughts again a moment later.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Hm?"

"The leg."

"Oh." Reilly picked her tablet up, pausing to polish the glass surface it had been resting on with the sleeve of her shirt. Honestly, it was a wonder the unique desk had survived this long. The Command Centre had had its share of battering in the last few years, and real or not, the massive dinosaur skull that supported the glass desktop didn't seem as though it would stand up to much. Nevertheless, here it remained, slightly scratched and chipped, but still standing strong.

"Leg's fine. Never better."

"Can you walk?"

Do you think I'd still be sitting here if I could walk? Reilly bit back the irritated retort and flicked lifelessly at her tablet screen, her right ankle throbbing pointedly, as though it had heard the conversation and wanted to add its own input. She had hurt it recently in a tumble - bad sprain, Elisabeth had said, but it had had to be strapped. Under no circumstances was she to put weight on it - Doctor's orders, and that of course had meant she would be out of action for a while. Confined to base camp, she had to content herself with hopping back and forth from the barracks to the Command Centre and no further. For a leader like Reilly, who wanted nothing more than to be out on the front lines alongside her men, the current circumstances were torture. She felt like a terrible hypocrite, sending them out to be hurt and - increasingly more often - killed in action while she lounged behind a desk, unaware of what was going on out there until a messenger went out of his way to inform her. The fact that her most capable informant didn't appear to be inclined to offer any sort of update of his own didn't improve her state of mind.

If he had noticed that his well-meant question had been coldly ignored, Carter made no mention of it, seemingly content to hover by the desk and watch as his colleague bristled behind her screen. Finally, her nerves unable to stand the silent scrutiny for much longer, Reilly looked up, placing the device slowly back down on the desk.

"Any news?"

"Not really."

The acting commander studied him quietly, her dark eyes locked with his until the indifferent facade seemed to wilt a little and he broke the connection, turning his attention instead to assessing the structural integrity of the rafter beams.

"You're my eyes and ears out there." Reilly persisted. "You must have something."

Carter shrugged slightly, looking away out through one of the large windows that encircled the building. He was silent for so long that Reilly began to wonder if he was being impertinent on purpose or if he really was that absent-minded, but finally, he turned back to her with a relenting sigh. He met her eyes again, seeming to have given up on the invisible wall he had constructed to try and hide the facts from her.

"We're being pushed back. They just keep coming." He watched her face closely as he spoke, but though she paled a little, Reilly showed no sign of falling into hysterics. Point one for Terra Nova. Not that he was keeping track.

"If we don't come up with something fast, we'll be slaughtered."

Was that too much? His eyes dropped to the hand near the abandoned tablet. Reilly seemed to be holding onto the desk too tightly for her own good. She'd cut herself if she wasn't careful. The thing wasn't as smooth as it used to be.

"Alright." Reilly's voice came out a little shakier than she intended, but with each word, she seemed to steady herself. "Any suggestions?"

At the Sixer's answering shrug, Reilly's irritation surged again, and she found she had to force herself to keep an even tone of voice for an entirely different reason. Her resulting words still came out sharper than she intended.

"Fine. Carter, next time, just tell me straight out. I can handle the truth. What I don't need is to have to chase you around all morning before you tell me anything." She picked up her tablet again and turned her attention away from him, shaking her head in resignation. "Honestly, I have kids coming to me to give me more useful information than you do. Try to get something more specific, alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss."

"And if you think of any way to improve our situation, let me know right away."

"Sure." Carter picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, ducking his head under the strap, though not quite far enough. The weaved leather brushed over his hair, sending it standing up like an insulted cockatoo.

"Oh, one more thing." Reilly's accompanying glance was quickly followed by a second as she tried to keep her eyes from drifting upwards. Carter raised his eyebrows in reply as she took half a second too long to continue. Reilly hurriedly proceeded.

"Next time you come, could you announce yourself or something? Gives me the creeps when you just appear like that."

"Nah, you're never scared." Carter had headed for the door, as though he sensed that he was reaching his give-Reilly-the-brush-off limit for one day and suddenly felt the urgent need to exit the immediate vicinity. When he turned back, her eyes were still on him, the barely-restrained anger within making him glad he had retreated when he did.

"That all?" He tapped the doorframe and paused for a moment, waiting. When Reilly made no further comment, he nodded, sounding almost like he was talking to himself.

"That's all then."

Reilly watched him vanish, staring into the empty space he had left behind, her annoyance making her heart thump hotly in her chest. He was impossible. How was she supposed to keep the rest of the Sixers in line if she couldn't even retain the assistance of the one that had been ordered to help her?

She turned her attention to the crutch leaning on the desk beside her, fiddling with the handle vaguely. As irritating as Carter was, she still preferred to focus on that problem for the moment rather than the alternative. Something would have to be done about their current battle situation, and sooner rather than later .. but how was she supposed to make these decisions alone? Decisions that would affect the future of the entire colony full of people? She was supposed to have help, but a lot of good the Sixer spy was turning out to be. Resentment surged through Reilly's bloodstream again as her mind turned back to a conversation from weeks earlier. She could still hear her own voice - her own doubts echoing through her head.

"We do have one problem .." Reilly hesitated, looking from one colony leader to another in turn, her gaze settling on Mira. "The Sixers aren't going to listen to me. The second you leave, they'll be out of control. They'll run wild."

The Sixer chief was silent for a moment, seeming to consider this. Finally, she turned to Jim soberly.

"She's right."

Jim frowned.

"So you tell them to listen to her."

Mira raised an eyebrow in a gesture almost akin to a laugh.

"Have you met my people? They're out of my control the second I'm out of the picture."

"Alright then .." Jim studied the crowd of faces surrounding them. The whole colony appeared to have turned out at short notice to see them off. News travelled quickly amongst the colonists .. especially bad news. Jim raised a hand as his eyes fell upon the particular face he had been searching for. "Carter."

He gestured to the nearby Sixer to draw him closer. Carter stepped forward tentatively as Jim addressed him.

"You're regarded as somewhat of a local legend around these parts, aren't you?"

At Carter's shrug, Jim turned to Mira.

"Will they listen to him?"

Mira nodded slowly, studying her own lieutenant.

"Theoretically, I think they might."

Jim nodded firmly, as though the matter was settled.

"Carter, your nomad days are over. From now on, you stay here and help Reilly run the colony."

Carter looked blankly at Mira.

"Do I get a say in this?"

"No."

"Alright then, whatever."

Reilly shook herself out of her memories and stood wearily, balancing herself on her crutches as she made her way outside, every hop a painful reminder of the injury that had rendered her useless. Evidently Carter's promises were laughably short-lived.

The cold outside seemed to blast into her skin as she reached the open balcony. It was surprising how much heat the bamboo building retained, even with the windows and doors open. Reilly leaned her crutches on the wall and pulled herself over to the railing, closing her eyes and resting on it as she took a few deep breaths, the pulse of red pain that beat behind her eyes fading slowly. That day had been the last time they had seen their colony leaders. After the gate had fallen, the colonists had stood as though they could hardly believe what had just happened, then slowly, they had filtered away. She had made her way back to the Command Centre, pausing in the centre of the room as her eyes fell on the desk. The Commander's desk. She had taken temporary ownership of it before, but somehow, this time was different. It almost felt irreverent to approach it.

Carter had no such qualms. He had followed her back without her knowledge and now wandered over to stand beside the desk, his hands in his pockets as he stared down at it thoughtfully.

"Weird, huh?"

Reilly continued to stare at the glassy surface wistfully. Finally, after a length of silence, she spoke without looking up at him.

"Objectively, I know this is our only option. We need each other-"

"I don't need you. You need me."

"Subjectively," Reilly continued as though she hadn't heard him. "I don't like you and I don't trust you."

She looked up then and met his suspicious gaze. He seemed just as wary of her as she was of him.

"Look, I know you think you've changed, but-"

"Changed?" Carter actually looked mildly surprised. "I haven't changed. I'm a gun for hire. Always have been, always will be. You don't have to worry, though, Sergeant."

He flopped down in the Commander's chair.

"Right now, I guess I'm your gun for hire."

Reilly watched him with growing animosity.

"Get up, you can't sit there."

Carter lounged back, watching her curiously.

"Why?"

"It's Commander Shannon's."

"He's not gonna miss it where he is."

"What are you talking about?"

Carter moved forward and leaned on the desk, fixing her with such a brutally honest stare that Reilly felt herself shrink back at the implications.

"Do you really think they'll make it back alive?"

"They may have some obstacles ahead of them, but they'll be back." There was a note of pleading in the young acting commander's voice. She was begging him not to be right about this.

But Carter was already shaking his head.

"For all we know, they'll all be shot the second they step through the Portal. They're probably all dead already. No one comes back from where they're going."

"Alright. Enough."

"What, did I finally hit a nerve? The ice queen has a soft spot after all."

"I said ENOUGH."

Carter watched with interest as she straightened, appearing to draw extra strength from somewhere. She nailed him to the spot with an authoritative glare.

"If you're going to co-run the colony with me, you're going to be a silent partner."

"Fine by me. I'm not sticking around anyway."

"What?!" Reilly stopped, staring at him in shock. "But .. Mira-"

".. doesn't dictate my every move." Carter stood and produced a small pack from somewhere on his person, slinging it over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll be back."

Reilly watched in bewilderment as he circumvented the desk, giving it a parting pat.

"Where are you going?"

"See what they're up to over there. I can get closer than any of your khaki elephants."

"You're going to spy on them?"

"Don't get too excited. I'm not doing it for you. If they manage to break through, it's on all of our heads." Carter stepped toward the door. "Any of my people misbehave, tell them I'll deal with them when I get back. If you need me .. send up a smoke signal."

Reilly began to nod in response, but froze mid-motion as she digested his last words uncertainly.

"Wait .. seriously .. ?"

A rare smile flickered across Carter's face as he disappeared.

"Battle Commander."

The voice had snuck up on her while she was lost in her thoughts. Reilly had to stop herself from flinching. When had she gotten so jumpy?

"Corporal Tate." She turned and greeted her young protege affectionately as Skye stepped up to lean on the rail beside her.

"How are things out on the front?"

Skye shrugged a little, but Reilly was reassured by the lack of obvious concern on her face.

"'Bout as good as can be expected, I suppose." Skye mused. "No losses today .. on our side, at least. Can't say the same for the future."

"Thank goodness." Reilly released a visible sigh of relief before her faint scowl returned. Skye watched her curiously and raised an eyebrow.

"What's up with you?"

"Oh-" Reilly shook her head at herself, meeting Skye's gaze with a laugh. "Carter."

"Uh-oh. What's he doing now?"

"Just .. being .. Carter."

Her young colleague chuckled sympathetically.

"I do not envy you that job."

They fell silent for a moment before Skye continued, evidently unable to restrain the words that wanted to tumble out of her mouth.

".. but I know you secretly like it, so I don't feel too bad."

Reilly's eyes swung back to her subordinate darkly.

"Stop."

"Come on .." Skye grinned. ".. you have a soft spot for him deep down, don'tcha?"

"I will write you up for disrespectful misconduct." Reilly retorted.

"And what, throw me in the brig? You wouldn't dare." Skye countered, sounding a little too confident. "You'd have to find a new runner."

"I'm sure Guzman would do it."

"Nah, he doesn't have the legs for it."

Reilly badly concealed a snort and shook her head in mock regret.

"What happened to the obedient youth that I enlisted a while back?"

"A facade, conjured up for your own enjoyment." Skye responded cheerfully, as her superior gave her a tolerant smile. "Never existed."

Her laugh faded as she watched Reilly sympathetically. The experienced soldier already seemed years older than she had a month ago. Her usually calm face was beginning to show the permanent lines of the responsibility that had recently been laid on her shoulders. Skye adjusted her elbows on the railing and stared out at the busy marketplace.

"We'll be alright, you know. We always are."

"I know."

Skye studied her quietly.

"You're worried? I thought we were holding our own pretty well lately."

"Oh, we are." Reilly reassured her. "It wasn't us I was worried about. We'll find a way through. We always do."

Skye nodded slowly. It still sounded like her commanding officer was trying her hardest to convince herself of the fact.

"Then .."

Reilly shrugged a little. Skye nodded again, understanding the meaning behind the gesture.

"Jim and the others."

"It'll have been two months next Friday. Two months. And no real radio contact for nearly five weeks, especially not since the fighting started in earnest. Surely they could've found some way to reach us, somehow." The acting commander sighed, her brow creased in frustration. "I can't help wondering how they're getting on out there, whether they're even still .."

"Try not to worry." Skye forced a smile. "They can take care of themselves. In fact, they're probably on their way home with her as we speak."

Reilly nodded resolutely, but the thin smile she managed to form only seemed to stretch so far. Skye watched her, a twinge of concern still tugging at her chest.

"Have you eaten today?"

"Yeah, of course."

"When?"

Reilly's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"This morning, I think."

"You think or you know?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Come on." Skye pushed away from the railing, handing Reilly one of her crutches, then trotting down the first few steps, pausing to squint back up expectantly. Reilly retrieved her other crutch and settled into them, staring down at the girl.

"Where are we going?"

"Mess hall." Skye ordered, turning and completing her descent down the stairs. "We need to get you something to eat, or you'll wither away."

As her superior began to splutter out an objection, Skye drowned her out with a wave of her hand.

"Besides, I'm starving, and you wouldn't deny your best messenger a meal after hours in the field, would you?"

Reilly eyed her for a moment before laughing shortly.

"I guess not."

"Good. I'll go get our food ready and find a table." Skye called over her shoulder. "But don't get lost on the way. If you're not there in ten minutes, I'm sending out a search party for you."

Reilly smiled to herself as she watched the carefree figure wander away.

"Yes, sir."

The mess hall was a fairly new addition to the colony, but it had quickly become what many considered to be the very heart and soul of Terra Nova. The large structure had been created from recycled materials, salvaged from the remains of buildings destroyed in previous floods or damaged in strikes. The bamboo frame had been reinforced with carbon tubing, the strong mesh designed to provide extra protection in the event of further disasters or attacks. Outside, a patched-up solar membrane had been draped over the lattice. Internally, the mesh was concealed by a series of thick padded rectangle panels made of husk fibres from various plants scattered around the region. The panels kept the hall warm on the inside and could be raised in the summer to allow airflow through the building.

A very long table took pride of place in the centre of the room, flanked by rows of chairs on either side. A sizeable chunk had been sawn out of the right-side wall, and a light swing door placed there in its place. The opening now led to a kitchen that had been recently added to the structure, visible through a second hole in the wall topped by a neat bench, used for the passage of dishes and gossip to the staff inside.

The walls on the kitchen side were bordered by lines of two-tiered benches to allow for extra seating. Against the walls opposite the kitchen, smaller tables and benches had been set up, creating little rough-hewn booths. There had been no time for paint or polish, but the rugged establishment was beloved by all, and short of a few splinters and some minor abrasions, no one was any worse off for the lack of 'finishing touches'. The hall could be used as an emergency shelter, a mess for the soldiers, or just a meeting area for the general population. In many ways, the versatile building was the safest place in the colony.

Skye could hear it before she saw it. On the far side of the barracks, the hall was hidden from view until you were nearly right upon it. The happy buzzing of voices, however, could be heard almost from the Command Centre, especially as night approached. She swung open the curious-looking doors and entered, immediately overtaken by the bustling thrum of activity within. Place sure was lively. It almost had the essence of a large, never-ending party, a strange contrast to the sober life-and-death hostility of the jungle beyond the gates. Skye gazed around for a moment before setting out again, heading straight over to where a thin, middle-aged woman was receiving people behind the counter. She stood to the side, folding her arms on top of the countertop and laying her head down, watching quietly as the woman dealt with her customers. When the crowd dispersed, Skye met the woman's eyes and smiled warmly.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, sweetie." Deborah returned the smile with a happy one of her own. Her cheeks were somewhat flushed and the bandanna meant to keep her hair back was slightly askew, a few wispy bits escaping containment to frame her face gently, but she seemed much brighter for having a job to do. The sight made the ever-present cords around Skye's heart relax a little. Her mother's condition hadn't worsened recently, despite the increasing cold and the dark threat beating against the walls of the colony. Perhaps this was exactly the distraction she had needed.

Skye glanced past her into the bamboo kitchen, where a large-boned man was madly rushing about, barking orders as he oversaw the preparation of meals in the back. As she watched, he sped out to the front desk with a couple of plates.

"Order up!" He slammed a makeshift gong loudly, receiving some glares from nearby customers and causing Skye's mother to nearly jump out of her skin. Deborah turned to Boylan in annoyance.

"Tom, I thought we agreed it wasn't necessary to use that thing."

Boylan grinned back unrepentantly.

"Did we? Now that you mention it, I do recall something of the sort .. far back in my distant memory .." He murmured airily as he wandered back into the kitchen. "A loonnnggg time ago .."

Deborah rolled her eyes and turned back to Skye.

"Have a seat, Bucket, he'll get to you sooner rather than later .. hopefully."

Skye laughed.

"Do you need any help?"

Her mother shook her head.

"No, no, things are pretty quiet at the moment, all things considered. You got here before the dinner rush." Deborah eyed her knowingly. "You came at the same time yesterday as well, didn't you? Trying to hack the system, are we?"

Skye stared into her face gravely.

"I'll never tell."

"Mm." Deborah threw a look at her daughter as another lot of customers stepped through the door. "Alright, you go and relax for a minute. I'll have someone bring your food to you when it's ready. The regular?"

Skye grinned.

"You got it. Thanks, Mom."

She watched Deborah turn to head back into the kitchen. As Skye turned away, her mother's long-suffering voice drifted faintly back to her.

"You're so easy to please. Why can't they all be like you?"

With a short laugh at her mother's expense, Skye found her usual booth and settled down to stare across at the rest of the gathered crowd. She knew every last one of them - hardly a surprising fact, but seeing them all here, talking happily and laughing and eating together, gave her a strange sense of discomfort. It was as though they existed only in a dream, their voices echoing muddily inside her head, almost like they were part of some wonderful separate world where the violence and panic outside the doors couldn't touch them. It should have been reassuring. It wasn't.

The rushing sound left her ears abruptly as a steady hand fell onto her shoulder. She looked up to see the bemused face of the colony chaplain staring down at her. Monica's red hair was tied back with a similar bandanna to Deborah's, but her clothes were nearly identical to Skye's security uniform. She almost appeared to be a strange combination of both of them. She must've stared at her a little too long, because Monica's expression grew a little gentler as she tilted her head.

"You okay, love?"

Skye blinked, laughing awkwardly at herself as she realised how mad she must have appeared to the counsellor.

"Fine. I must just be hungrier than I thought!"

"Mm." Monica nodded and placed the dish down on the uneven table in front of her. Grilled xiph fillets and roasted seed pods. Just like every day. Skye eyed the crunchy vegetation in the corner of her plate. Most of the colony's food crops had been destroyed by a series of floods not long ago. With things the way they were outside the gates, they were lucky to be able to send fishing parties out. Whatever fruits or vegetables they could scavenge along the way were a delicacy. Everyone was allowed one serving of meat a day to keep them healthy, but no more. Put that way, their situation seemed more dire than most people realised.

"How are you doing, Skye?"

She looked up in surprise to find Monica still hovering above her with growing concern on her face. Usually she deposited the food and left. She had plenty of other customers to worry about.

"I hear it's pretty tough out there."

"It is." Skye responded carefully. "But we're doing about as well as can be expected given the circumstances."

Given the circumstances. It was true. Under the current unprecedented circumstances, they were doing better than anyone had believed they could. It still didn't mean they were doing well.

Skye's eyes drifted up searchingly, latching onto the feature that jutted out above the large double doors. The figurehead of an ancient ship hung suspended in the air, watching over the hall like a guardian angel, the torchlight causing its shadow to be cast over the long table below, the picture growing ever clearer as the darkness crept in. At some point, the original ship had been severed in half, though exactly how and why no one knew for certain. Some hazarded guesses, and others drew their own secret conclusions, but the fact remained that the ship had only been discovered far after the fact, in a place no ship should have been able to reach, so what had really happened to it in its previous life was anyone's game. They'd probably never know the story behind it, the places it had been, the people and cargo it used to carry. The worn lines of craftsmanship kept the secrets to its past hidden deep within their clutches, and so the mystery went nowhere, remaining much like the ship itself, still and silent.

Whatever had happened, the front of the ship had been sliced off so neatly that it had been easy to mount onto the wall beams without much preparation. In fact, it had been secured there so strongly, a person could probably get up there in what was left of the bow and pretend to be a pirate. It had been stored away out of sight since the occupation, hidden from view in some corner of the colony and narrowly rescued during the rainy season, but now, the current situation being what it was, this had been deemed the safest place for it - a place where not only was it protected, it could also be admired, sparking new conversations and bringing a sense of culture to the place. And despite the unpleasant memories connected to the thing, Skye had to admit that it looked pretty impressive up there.

Monica had followed Skye's gaze up to the figurehead.

"Considering a dramatic escape? Think it's past its sailing days, poor old thing." She mused, as Skye's eyes flicked back to her face. "Although, maybe the other half of it's still down there somewhere .. and maybe, just maybe .."

Her eyes twinkled as Skye waited curiously.

".. Davy Jones himself'll come up out of it, beard tossing in the wind and guns blazing and the future'll be so shocked, they'll turn tail and run, just like that."

Her smile widened as a shout of laughter escaped from Skye.

".. although then we'd have the problem of explaining to him what we'd done to his ship .. I think maybe I'd rather deal with the future, wouldn't you?"

As Skye's began to express her agreement, a yell boomed out from the direction of the kitchen.

"Oi! Monica! Quit chit-chattin' with the customers, they're waitin' for food, not your psychiatric garble!"

Monica glanced at him darkly over her shoulder and turned back to Skye, tossing her tray into the air and catching it smoothly in one hand.

"Ah well, a waitress's work is ne'er done." She put a hand on Skye's shoulder again, squeezing it gently. "Chin up, love."

"Monica!"

With a last smile, the counsellor headed off again, rapidly leaving Skye behind her as she proceeded to yell back across the room toward the kitchen.

"Thomas Boylan, I am helping you out of the goodness of my own heart. Don't you dare raise your voice with me again, and I'll have you know that feeding the soul is JUST as IMPORTANT as feeding the body, a fact you might be able to COMPREHEND if just ONCE, you happened to draw your mind away from your STOMACH .. !"

Skye gaped after her in astonishment, so entranced that she barely noticed her companion slide onto the bench opposite her. Reilly laughed as she made herself comfortable, favouring her splintered ankle a little.

"Ooh. Wouldn't want to be on the other side of that tongue when she really gets going."

Skye agreed emphatically, taking a seed pod from her plate and crunching on it.

Before long, Reilly was served as well, and the two ate dinner together as they often did these days, when Deborah was working and everyone else was out in the field. Being predominantly a messenger, Skye was usually home at night unless there was a real emergency that had to be conveyed. She couldn't say the same for many of her companions.

"Don't be an idiot!"

Skye raised an eyebrow in annoyance as a particularly loud voice from behind cut into their conversation.

"When Commander Shannon gets back-"

"You really think he's coming back? He deserted us without a second thought, just like Taylor."

Skye's hands balled into fists on the table as she tensed, preparing to unfurl her tongue and lash the offending party with it, but Reilly held up a finger quietly, appearing content to listen calmly to the remainder of the conversation.

"His little girl was kidnapped, what was he supposed to do? You would've done the exact same thing."

"Would I? Or do the needs of the many outweigh a single person's problems? I mean, come on, we've all lost people in this place. We've all lost people. What makes him think he's so special?"

"You don't mean that. If it was my little girl, no one could've stopped me from going after her. Nothing else would have mattered."

"But you're not the commander." The other man said, pointing his fork at his friend. "Jim Shannon shouldn't have just dropped everything and run off when things got a little tough. He was weak and he collapsed under the pressure. And for all we know, his absence could be what really brings this whole darn deck of cards down."

At this, Skye and Reilly turned in their seats to stare at the two men. The less antagonistic of the two sat facing them. He caught their eye and nodded slightly to his friend. The other man turned around and reddened as he met their thunderous glares. He opened his mouth as if to explain himself .. but nothing came out. Reilly stood and supplied the words for him, balancing on one of her crutches.

"Jim Shannon's daughter was stolen." Her words seemed to get stuck in her throat, but she pushed them out tightly. "He did not desert us, and he did not leave us defenceless. He is coming back, and might I remind you that we are not .. not as 'on the verge of collapse' as some might think." Her voice rose steadily in volume as she located the right words. "Every soldier in this colony is fighting .. for his life and his family, just as if the Commander was here. And I'm sorry."

She eyed him sharply, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting with fire.

"I'm sorry if you feel you need a firmer hand to guide you. Perhaps I could do you up a .. what are they called .." She grappled mentally for the appropriate word, landing on it at last with relief. ".. a list .. of objectives. You don't seem to be grasping the point of the fight so far."

As the man's face darkened with embarrassment, the acting commander stared around the hall, seeming to freeze for a moment when she found she now had everyone's attention. She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. When she continued, her voice rang out clearly across the silent room.

"I know it's scary at the moment and a lot of you feel abandoned by your leaders. But you still have leaders." She turned back to the original recipient of her tongue-lashing, speaking more gently. "And you are leaders. Leaders of your teams and of your families. We all know the risks here, and we all know the consequences of not succeeding. This colony is not 'Jim Shannon's Colony'. It's not 'Nathaniel Taylor's Colony'. This is our colony."

The man's angry glare softened a little as a few people around the hall nodded, accompanied by several chuckles. Skye located her mother across the room, leaning on the bench beside Boylan, both listening curiously to the little speech, along with several members of the kitchen staff. Deborah met her eyes, smiling as Reilly continued calmly, sounding more in-control of the situation with every sentence.

"I know we all wish Jim the best, and we think of his family at the moment. They're struggling with loss just like the rest of us. You might think your problems are unique to you. They're not. No one here has a monopoly on grief, or fear, or anger. I'm sorry if that offends some of you, but it's true." She took a deep breath and smiled tightly as she looked around and met the eyes of the crowd. They stared back, their food forgotten, watching her solemnly as she continued, her eyes sparking dangerously.

"We're all angry. We're being attacked, and our homes and lives are being threatened. It's only natural to be angry. But we're all on the same side."

She turned back to the original speaker sitting in front of her.

"We're all fighting the same enemy, and it's not Jim Shannon. We don't know when he'll be back, but it doesn't change the situation or our objective. We plan, we fight, we look after each other, and we defend our home. You have leaders. You have the security team, you have the council. We're assessing the battle and adjusting our best tactic as we go along. If any of you have any suggestions or concerns, I welcome them. Come see me. This colony isn't about one man, it's a community. I'd like you to remember that."

With that, Reilly sat down, her exit followed by a few claps. As the applause faded and the normal buzz of voices rose again to fill the silence, Skye turned back to her superior.

"Nicely done. I didn't know you could be so eloquent." She grinned a little. "Could've lightened up a little on the doom and gloom though."

"That wasn't eloquence." Reilly's cheeks were still flushed, and she studied her food intensely. "I hate speaking up in public, but I thought I might throw my bowl at him if I didn't say something."

As Skye laughed in response, one of the front hall doors swung open violently and a man burst in, setting off hurriedly down the aisle. The quivering door was completely disregarded as it banged against the inside wall. A few people glanced up, but they went back to their meals almost immediately. Malcolm rushing around like a featherless chicken was hardly a candidate for the front page news. As he craned his neck in a desperate attempt to see over the heads, Skye turned back to Reilly, picking up the threads of their conversation.

"I'm kind of disappointed it didn't come to that, honestly."

"Ha! Not a good look for the acting commander .."

"Suppose not-"

"Reilly!" Malcolm abruptly materialised beside their table, pausing momentarily for breath. "Sorry - Sergeant Reilly .. Commander Reilly .. ?"

Reilly threw a laughing look at Skye and peered up at the flustered researcher.

"Reilly's fine, Dr. Wallace. What is it?"

"Come with me." He began to dart away again, but the other two evidently weren't moving fast enough. After watching over his shoulder for a moment as Reilly tried to gingerly extract herself from the booth, he sighed loudly and returned.

"Oh, for heavens sake. Here."

"Dr.-" Reilly found Malcolm's arm around her waist as he lifted her to her feet and half-carted her down the aisle. "Dr. Wallace!"

"Look!"

Malcolm kicked the offending door open again and charged out into the night, dragging Reilly along with him. Skye appeared a moment later with the crutches. Reilly exchanged a look with her and turned back to Malcolm, staring at the researcher as though he'd completely lost his mind.

"What-"

"There!" Malcolm's grip tightened as he used his other arm to point into the sky. Reilly followed his line of sight, squinting.

"I don't .."

"Look, woman!"

This time, it was obvious. A thin streak of orange darted across the sky and vanished. A moment later, a bright glow lit up the night some distance away, followed shortly after by a low rumble. Skye balanced on the crutches, glancing at the other two apprehensively.

"What was it?"

"Think castles and dragons. What do pirates and alchemists have in common?"

".. what?"

Reilly stared at his face for a moment before turning to Skye slowly.

"Apparently they've been studying the art of medieval warfare."

Skye met her gaze blankly for a few seconds, then swung back to stare into the night, her heart sinking as another flame licked the stars.

"Cannonballs?!"

"You don't need electricity to make gunpowder." Malcolm commented grimly, his words accompanied by another rumble. "The wretches are 85 million years ahead of their time."

As the eyes of all three turned back to the sky, a thick black smoke billowed upward in the distance, the northern horizon illuminated by a haunting red glow.

"Welcome to the Middle Ages."