Author's Notes: I feel the need to apologize for posting shorter chapters. I would usually wait to have a full sequence developed, but am having less time for writing these days. Hope you don't mind the resulting choppiness.

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Somewhere in the A'I'A Straights

"Target!" the reddish Eylordene shouted over the noise of the engine and the storm.

A flurry of activity erupted around him. The divers rallied around the team leader. They had painstakingly gone over what would happen, what part every member of the team would play. Reed adjusted the heavy electromagnetic line weighing on his shoulder, careful not to bump the maghead off the loop in his belt. Last thing he needed was for that thing to fall on his toes.

He mentally went over the steps of the recovery. The diving team would step on the two outside bumpers before jumping over the target. Once freed of the weight of the diving team the bumpers would detach automatically. The divers would anchor their lines to the shuttle hull via the magheads and Zheezhill would rev the auxiliary engine, holding it in place. Once the other squadrons showed up, the combined crafts would pull the shuttle out and rescue the team inside. Except he'd get to them before. As the Eylordenes would soon find out.

"Coming over target!" the reddish Eylordene announced, his robe cresting white.

Everyone took their position, ready to step out onto the bumpers, Reed close to last. He didn't mind the couple of sweepers behind him. He leaned over, craning his neck to see the churning waters, squinting against the driving rain. He still felt a supernatural sense of calm. He was there but not there. It was not him who was about to step outside the plane. He was somewhere else, safely looking at the scene from a great distance, everything around him tunneling to the single sight of the waters below.

Suddenly he saw a gleaming reflection in the halo-lights of the Eylordene craft. Shuttle One! Reed crashed back into his body with a jarring abruptness. Shuttle One! At least part of it, he couldn't tell from what he was looking at. He squinted more fiercely, what was showing was not big enough for the shuttle... The thought suddenly struck that perhaps that's all there was left, some metal floatsam and nothing else. A sudden panic stole his breath. It couldn't be...!

"Dignitary!" the team leader was already calling out to Zheezhill, seemingly having thought the same thoughts. She came over in a smooth motion and the man motioned towards the shuttle with a couple of tentacles, engaging in a rapid conversation that Reed's UT couldn't catch.

Before he could ask what happened, Zheezhill was at his elbow, "Most of the shuttle is underwater," she explained. Reed's slumped with relief. So the ship was all there. They would get it -

A shout cut off his line of thought, bringing his and everyone's attention to the bank of monitors. The reddish Eylordene's robe was exploding in a rainbow of colors. "We're losing it!" he bellowed.

Cacophony broke aboard. Reed saw the water close over the shuttle. "Nooooo!" he screamed, already making for the open hatch. He wasn't going to let the shuttle go. Not after so much time looking for it. Not when he had sacrificed T'Pol for it. No!

Someone grabbed his arm. It was Zheezhill. "Let me go!" he hollered at her.

"Waterebb! You will not find it that way!" her robe streaked dark in admonition. "The currents are too strong. The shuttle will go one way and you will go another!"

He deftly twisted away and went back to the trapdoor. This time the team leader bodily blocked his way. "Gentlebeing!" the alien roared in emerald agitation, "We will have to look for you instead of the shuttle!"

That was the winning argument. Reed stopped, deflated, looking despairingly at the churning waters where the shuttle had disappeared. "We have to find it!" he shouted at the two of them.

"We will find it," Zheezhill soothed with a concert of blues. "As soon as it settles on the ocean floor, we can proceed with the recovery."

'Settle to the ocean floor?' 'Proceed with the recovery?' The words sound hollow in his mind. Not, not hollow... as if... as if they believed the crew was dead. He glared at her, "We can't wait! My Captain is in there! My crew!" And unspoken, the thought that if he waited and things... he couldn't say it... he'd spend the rest of his life wondering if he could have made a difference. A chance he could not take.

Zheezhill stared at him with the lapping green of dismay. Aliens were so strange. "As soon as it settles on the ocean floor, we can proceed with the recovery," she repeated, unsure of saying anything else lest she offend the alien's sensitivities. They took umbrage at the slightest provocation.

Reed had already turned away from her, strode to the pilot. "Hail them!" he demanded. "Hail the shuttle," he added, making sure to be understood.

The pilot looked over at Zheezhill, seemed to find the needed acquiescence there, and turned back to his console, rapidly keying in several sets of numbers. He listened intently in his ear monitor, finally looking up at Reed, "Nothing, Gentlebeing..."

"Try again!" Reed barked, looking around at the craft, weighing all the possibilities. Anything they could use to make contact, find the shuttle... There had to a way. Something other than waiting for it to hit rock bottom.

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