A/N: I got all meta there, didn't I?!

Yep, things are definitely going downhill with our new Colony Commander (or not) - and how much longer does Malcolm have to wait for the wormhole to go ping? On we go!

PART THREE

Future

Chapter Nineteen

Lockdown

The atmosphere in her compound is subdued - again. They're all there only because the value of what they're doing outweighs the perception of elitism that's driven all the scientists into the fields. No matter how obsessed Jackson and his crew are with reinterpreting Terra Nova as some sort of bucolic fantasy where everyone else does the work, they still need clothes and shoes - and her department is the only source of such items.

She hasn't admitted it, but Yseult is particularly torn over Malcolm's absence now that Jackson has taken charge. While she's still very relieved that he's not present to endure punishment for speaking out of turn - something that she knows he would do - his absence leaves her feeling deeply insecure and unprotected. She only goes to her own home with Pete for company - to check that everything's okay. Otherwise, she is still living in Maddy's house; and Jim regularly drops by to make sure that they're okay. Not that it's helping her to get enough sleep, what with the tension and a fractious toddler unsettled in a strange house.

Ninette is supervising another batch of cotton cloth from the loom, but she doesn't have her usual expression of interest and enjoyment in what she's doing. Everyone's the same: back in the residential areas, there's a sense of tension and threat thanks to the presence of people watching each other. How long it'll be before the denunciations start, Yseult doesn't want to guess - though that may just be Orwellian-inspired paranoia. Most people are just keeping their heads down and hoping like hell that Taylor gets back soon - it's just the people who want to be part of the new ruling party who are trying to curry favour by telling tales.

"Are you alright, Max?" Ninette is looking at her, with an unnerving acuteness.

"Yes, and no." She admits, "I can't help wondering if Tom Jackson's going to have something to say about me slashing at him with my ornamental sword when he forced his way into my house."

"'E was in the wrong, Max." Ninette insists, "It may be that 'e shall be too embarrassed to mention it, and so leave you alone."

"God, I hope so." She can't stop herself from shuddering at the thought of what might have happened had she not had the means to defend herself from his attentions, "Perhaps it'll give them all a reason to leave us alone. I'm not the only one who's had to go through this."

Ninette's expression darkens. She's fortunate, in that she's married to a burly construction worker, so any attempt to harass her would lead to the perpetrator's teeth being rammed so far down his throat that he'd need to stick a toothbrush up his backside to clean them; but that doesn't stop her from sympathising with her fellow female colonists who are not so lucky.

She spends most of the rest of the day with Ben, re-lining the blast furnace. It's mindless, tedious work - but she wants that right now: something that doesn't require extensive concentration. With everything that's going on, she really can't keep her mind on more intricate work. Ben is also something of a man-mountain - another protective bastion between her and Jackson. Given that he's had a go at her twice, she can't escape the nervous fear that he'll keep trying, even though the likeliness has faded thanks to her protective measures. Now that he's put himself in charge, she isn't at all assured that those measures will hold.

It hurts. Hurts that Malcolm isn't there to assure her, hold her hand or cuddle her. If she missed him before, now she wants only for him to come home, so that she can be held by him again. The only difficulty with that is trying to stop him from protesting at the new government; but with Taylor home as well, she can't see that lasting.

Then she remembers what was happening to Taylor before they left. What if it's got worse? What if they couldn't deal with it? Oh God…what if Taylor's lead them into danger in his compromised state?

For a moment, she feels almost faint - and then remembers that they've got Mira with the party, and Dunham's really been stepping up to the plate since his promotion. Between them, they'll have kept the expedition safe. They'll have kept Malcolm safe…

"Easy, Max." Suddenly there's a pair of hands taking hold of her shoulders as she sways, "Come and sit down before you fall down."

Her knees shaking rather, Yseult allows Ben to guide her to an upturned crate and sit her down, "Sorry, Ben."

"No problem. You just went seriously pale for a moment. Do you want me to fetch Pete to get you home?" He knows better than to suggest she go alone.

"That sounds like a good idea." She admits, "I just let things get to me for a moment. I've not been getting a lot of sleep."

"In that case, I'll get Pete to take you to see Dr Shannon." Ben says, firmly.

"Ben…" she protests.

"Humour me, okay?"

"Okay." She sighs.

Elisabeth looks at the results of her examination, "How long has it been since you last had a decent night's sleep, Max?"

Yseult hesitates, thinking it over, "Probably the last time that Malcolm was home."

Elisabeth smiles, "I know what you mean. I remember what it was like after Jim was imprisoned. It took me weeks to get used to being alone in bed. Mind you," She adds, smiling, "It took me a while to get used to having him back again once I got here."

"I miss him, Elisabeth." Yseult says, becoming tearful, "I just want him home."

She doesn't hesitate, and hugs her patient, "I know - believe me, I know. It hurt like hell to be without Jim - so I really do understand how you're feeling."

"What if we can't get the colony back, Elisabeth?" Yseult asks, worriedly, "There's only eight security staff out there, Malcolm only carries his sidearm when he has to, and he's never had to use it. Mira might well be a one woman army - but even she's not enough to take on the people who've taken over here. They're colonists - not invaders, so what the hell do we do?"

"I don't know." Elisabeth admits, "I haven't a clue how we deal with this. We can't throw that many people out - it would be the ultimate expression of cutting off one's nose to spite one's face. Jim's had to give them the key code to the weapons store, so they can use guns against us if we try to reclaim the place. Besides, if we do try to make plans, someone's likely to report it, and then we're the ones on the wrong end of the weapons."

"It's horrible. I don't know who we can trust." Yseult agrees, "I know none of my mob would do something like that - but if people are scared, they might speak up. If we do revolt, then people are going to get hurt. It might be three years now since we were occupied, but that's something that really remains in the consciousness. I don't think it would be a malicious act - just an impulse driven by fear. I don't know about you, but I don't want to put people in that position."

"Nor do I." Elisabeth sighs, "I really don't want to have lots of serious injuries in here - and I don't want people to die. We lost too many people when the Phoenix group came through." She looks up, "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I think it would do us all some good to just sit and try to think of something else to talk about."

"It's worth a try." Yseult smiles, "Sign me up."

No one fails to enjoy the dinner that Elisabeth has provided, though again conversation is rather stilted as no one really knows what to say, particularly as Zoe is at the table, and she's really too young to be listening to the adults complaining that they can't do anything about the worrying situation. She can't even occupy herself playing with her niece and Erin, as the two are younger still, and both are now sleeping.

Fortunately, Skye is very good at distracting her, and the two are soon engrossed in a history article on her plex. Given her heroic efforts during the occupation, no one's keen on having her away from the table while they wonder what the hell they're going to do, but it's either that or have Zoe sitting in.

Jim is swirling the last of a rather good blackberry wine around his glass, looking at the vortex rather distractedly. In spite of how hard it had been when Weaver and Lucas had controlled things, their actions had been far easier to countenance - thanks to their enemy being from an external source. How the hell do they fight back against some of their own people?

"I should never've let it get to this." He says, eventually, "We could see what was going on - but we were so worried about making things worse that we let them get worse."

"Like the Rhineland." Yseult sighs, "If people had sent in the troops when Hitler invaded there, he would've been defeated, and that would've been that. The political structure he was building wasn't strong enough to support a defeat at that early stage. But everyone was so scared of tripping off another Great War that they wanted to try appeasement instead." She turns to Jim, "It wasn't anyone's fault - not unless you had some sort of precognitive abilities and didn't use them. Last time I checked, you weren't able to see the future. We can only do what we think is right - and hope that it actually is."

"Max is right, Jim." Elisabeth agrees, "Regardless of the leadership structure, the Commander's never been a demagogue - he listens to reason, and takes that into account when he makes his decisions. That someone chose to represent that as a distant elitism caught us by surprise - and we know that we need to start thinking about alternative methods of Government. I think it was just a case of bad timing - the Commander went OTG, and people took advantage of that. No matter how respected you are, you're still not Commander Taylor."

"Yeah." Jim continues to swirl his wine, "I don't have that mystique."

"It does show how blind we were, though." Elisabeth adds, "We were cheerfully carrying on - and none of us had the first idea that not everyone was happy. We're lucky - we've got the Commander's ear on a daily basis. Most people don't, so that makes him a much more remote figure for them. If they feel that they're just here to do the donkey work, and they have no real say in how the colony's run, then it's no wonder they're not happy. They came here for a second chance at life, and everyone assumed that this place would become a much larger community than it has. It hasn't - so things seem to have set into a fixed pattern."

"And the prospect of self-rule disappeared down the toilet." Jim finishes. "Hell, no wonder people thought Parker was the Second Coming."

"With the Commander behaving as he was before he left," Yseult picks up, "There was no chance that he was going to listen to us when we suggested more representative forms of government - so I can't see how we could've prevented this. It was a perfect storm of bad things coming together at the same time, and now we're stuck with someone in the Command Centre who could do anything; we just don't know. At least, with Commander Taylor, we had some idea."

Skye returns to the table, "Zoe's gone to sleep. What've I missed?"

"Just a mutual self flagellation session." Josh grins, "We've being doing the 'why didn't we see this coming and stop it' routine."

"Ah." She sits down beside him and takes his hand.

"I hate to say it," Maddy looks up from her empty wine glass, "but the only thing that's going to do anything is some sort of catastrophe or other. The Commander's always been able to turn bad incidents around - even if he's needed our help to do it - and he's got the knowledge and experience to deal with things like that. These men don't; and until they find themselves faced with the sort of challenge that the Commander knows how to handle, and everyone sees that they can't, we're stuck in a corner."

"I'd suggest passive resistance, but I can't see how we can make that happen." Skye says, "I could do the liaising last time around because Lucas was so fixated on me, and he convinced himself that I was working with him. We could refuse to do stuff, but how many people are that keen to get beaten up?"

They all fall silent again. God, it's hopeless - they can't use force to re-take the colony, not against fellow citizens: particularly citizens who have access to the weapons store. They need Taylor back - but who knows when that's going to happen, or what sort of state he'll be in when he does? Worse - what if he doesn't? No one wants to imagine how that's going to pan out.

"All we can do for the time being is comply." Elisabeth sighs, eventually, "We might've known where we stood with soldiers in our midst - but we had a substantial security force outside the compound when we were occupied. It's quite possible that things will fall apart between this lot, too. Perhaps all we need to do is wait."

She waits for an agreement, or objections; but instead everyone turns at the sound of loud hammering on the door. Bemused, Jim rises from the table, glass still in hand, and goes to open it.

"Stand aside." It's one of Jackson's cadre of thugs - and he's got a sonic rifle, "We're searching the premises."

"Are you kidding me?" Jim asks, almost on reflex, "I've got kids asleep in here!"

His response proves immediately to be a bad move, as the butt of the rifle is walloped right into his solar plexus, and he drops, choking.

"Jim!" Elisabeth is on her feet at once, only to find that there are now four armed men in the house. Immediately, she goes very still.

"Like I said." The first man says, coldly, "We're searching the premises. Stand aside."

The rations may be designed to offer optimal nutrition and minimal bulk, but no one's going to suggest that they're haute cuisine, and the evening meal is a distinctly uninteresting affair.

Despite the lack of predators in the vicinity, no one's being complacent, and Carter is currently on watch with a lamp and a sonic rifle at the edge of the platform, alternating between scanning the sandy ground below, and brooding over the loss of Hal Wicks. Sitting beside the heater, as they've run out of firewood, Mira watches him, then looks back at Malcolm, who is doing a very poor impression of a man not becoming at all stir-crazy because of a wait that has no discernible end.

The previously rising levels of radiation have stabilised again, frustrating him intensely. The last thing he wants is to be obliged to leave before the portal opens. At one time, it would've been because he wanted to see it happen - now, however, the impulse for his protests is based entirely upon the awful fate that befell the crew of the Polly Constance. She can understand that - the thought that people might be wrenched through that portal to die in the vast expanse of the Badlands because their rescuers had run out of supplies and left just beforehand is horrible. The trouble is - there's no guarantee that people will come through. What if the wormhole opens and there's nothing in the vicinity to come through it? But then again, what if there is? No wonder he's so silent and morose. He went through utter hell in the Badlands, so it's inevitable that he can't accept that others would have to endure that.

Alongside him, the signal from the probe continues to click, constantly yanking his attention back to the problem at hand. It's been doing that for nearly two days now, and she wonders if he's had any decent sleep since they got back from the crater, so she crosses to sit beside him, "Go to bed, Malcolm. I'll monitor the probe. If it does anything other than click, I'll come and get you. You'll be no use to anyone if you're too exhausted to do anything once the portal does open."

He looks up at her, "I shouldn't. I need to…"

"Which part of 'I'll monitor the probe' didn't you get?" she asks, with mock asperity, "Get your head down. You're practically asleep on your feet as it is."

He looks like he's going to protest for a moment, but then sags, "I know. You're right." Slowly, tiredly, he levers himself off the ground and makes his way to his tent. As promised, Mira settles down alongside the plex from which the clicks issue every ninety seconds without fail.

Taylor sits down beside her, "He's taking this hard."

"Of course he is. He wants the portal to open before we have to go so we don't leave survivors to die in the desert like he nearly did."

"I get that." He nods, "And I'm no damn use. Not while I'm like this." He shakes the water bottle that contains his dose of distillate, "I never thought I'd ever say this, Mira - but thank God you came along. Malcolm's a better leader than he gives himself credit for - but he's got no survival skills worth a damn, and he can't navigate."

"I'd say that he's a good leader because he listens to the experts." Mira adds, a little pointedly.

"Give me a break, Mira. I've gone ga-ga." Taylor says, with a skewed smile, "If you're wondering, yes, I've given a lot of thought to what happens when we get back. Assuming Doctor Shannon can cure me, I still need to work on what happens after I'm gone. I've always had other things to worry about: establishing the colony, dealing with the Phoenix Group both times, and then this. I can't keep putting it off - or I leave the colony helpless. That's a hell of a bomb to drop on Shannon."

"You think he could take over from you?"

"Yeah - I think he could. But whether he'd want to? I can't see him jumping at the chance to run the Colony. He does it if I'm not around - but he's always happy to hand it back again. He's damn good, and I know I can rely on him - but he doesn't want to be in charge unless he has to be."

Mira gazes at the heater. It has absolutely none of the romantic connotations of a campfire, of course, but given how quickly the temperature drops when the sun goes down, it's better than nothing, "What do we do if we get survivors through the portal?"

"Meet 'em. Talk to 'em. Take 'em back to the colony. What else can we do? Doctor Shannon's got people who can act as counsellors - even if you know you're coming it's a hell of an adjustment to make. If these people aren't coming through from our future, they may not be living in filth like we were - so it'll be worse for them because they already had clean air."

"You think they'd go crazy?"

"If they're trapped on the other side of a one way rift with no way to get back to families, and no way to tell them what's happened. Yeah. I think they could."

Mira's eyes go distant. She completely understands that dilemma. The only difference is that her daughter will almost certainly have guessed that she's never coming back. For a moment, she clenches her fists so tightly that her fingernails dent her palms. Now is not the time to wallow in that sort of regret. Even though she's proved to most of the people she's learned to call friends that she's not a rock hard woman with zero feelings, Taylor isn't one of them. Not yet, anyway. There's too much bad blood to work out for that.

"Perhaps it's just as well you're here." Taylor says, quietly, "If anyone knows what they'd be going through, that'd be you, wouldn't it?"

She doesn't answer. She doesn't need to.

The Commander rises to his feet, "I don't know about you, but I'm gonna hit the sack."

"I promised Malcolm I'd watch his readings for him. You get some rest."

"Fair enough. I'd tell you to get someone else to take over later if I thought you'd actually do it."

She smirks with amusement, "Like hell."

By now, everyone's drifted to their tents but for her and for Carter, who will remain at his post until Travers comes to relieve him in the small hours. While Mira's no scientist, she's hardly a dullard either, and she periodically monitors the radiation levels being transmitted by Malcolm's probe. They've been stable for a while now, though now and again, there's been another slight spike before things settle back down again. Sitting there, she can get a sense of his frustration at the stubborn refusal of that radioactivity to get more reactive again. That initial instability really gave the impression that something was happening - but now it's not. Or, at least, that's what it feels like. So near, and yet so far…

Everything remains absolutely silent for hours. Mira has learned from long experience how to be patient in such circumstances, and she doesn't chafe at the endless nothing. Above her, she can see the gradual movement of the stars as they appear from behind the overhang, and she enjoys the sheer glory of a sky free from pollution. Every now and again, a meteorite streaks across the sky - the remains of the scattered rocks that didn't fall into the clutches of gravity as the planet formed now trying to join the party, only to be swallowed up by the friction of the atmosphere.

Yet again, the probe sensor clicks. She knows it's only there to indicate that the thing's still broadcasting, but sometimes she thinks the clicks are closer together, other times further apart, as she has no other sense of the immediate passage of time. It's the figures that keep popping upon the plex that will show when things get going again, so that's what holds the rest of her attention when she's not absorbed in the cosmos.

Travers emerges from his tent and goes over to relieve Carter, who nods, hands over the equipment, and makes his way back to his tent. And all returns to quiet again, as Mira's head begins to nod.

When she opens her eyes again, she curses under her breath - is this the false dawn or the real one? Checking her chronometer, she realises that it's not as late as she feared, and she hastily checks the plex again.

The activity's back up - and significantly so, too. Hell, it looks like things might be happening after all, and God knows if they're going to get there in time to see it. Scrambling to her feet, she hastens across to Malcolm's tent, "Malcolm - wake up."

Her voice is low, but fortunately Malcolm is not in a deep sleep, and she can hear rustling as he fumbles with his sleeping bag on the other side of the nylon. There's only one reason she'd be alerting him like this, and thus he is not long about it, "The activity's up again?"

"Way up. It's gone up around twenty percent in the last two hours - but I'd dozed off, so I don't know when it started."

"I can check that from the data stream." He's unzipping the flap, and emerges in the same clothes he was in last night, though the buttons of his shirt are in the wrong buttonholes, "Show me the plex."

She hands it over, and he looks through, "You're right. It's up again - and this time the rate's consistent. It's risen another five percent in the last ten minutes. I think we need to put our plan into action."

"I'll go wake Dunham. You get what you need." She's off at once.

As he watches the incoming figures, he spots another jump - quite a large one - before it drops back again. Then another, and another. God, it's building - it must be. It'll take them three hours to get out there if they're careful, but with luck, they'll make it in time.

Almost shaking with excitement, Malcolm sets the plex down, and heads off to get Travers to set down a ladder. He's got a rover to check.

The word 'search' seems something of an understatement, judging by the degree of flinging about and overturning going on in the Shannon Household. Zoe's already awoken with a scream as her bedroom door was roughly opened, while both Erin and Elisabeth Rose are freaking out as only frightened toddlers can.

"What the hell are you looking for?" Jim has got his breath back now, though he doesn't want to push his anger too much - that rifle butt was bloody painful, and he knows the bruise'll be spectacular when it comes out, "There's nothing in here that's not been here since we arrived."

He has no idea why he's asking the question - it's pretty damn obvious that it's an intimidation tactic. They're not looking for anything, just making it clear that they're in charge now, and woe betide anyone who objects. If even the Shannons aren't free from being turned over, then no one is.

Finally, however, the wholesale vandalism stops, and the group reassemble in the living room, "Right. All back to your homes. Your own homes." He adds, as Yseult crosses to join Maddy, "From today, you're all under curfew. None of you are gonna meet up again anywhere. You stay in your houses, and don't come out except for emergencies. Except for you, Doctor Shannon. You're still needed in the infirmary - but you'll have someone with you at all times so don't try passing messages out." It's obvious he means the former senior staff. The Shannons were instrumental in helping to oust the Phoenix group, of course, so they've got form. The fact that Yseult wasn't involved in any way means nothing - she's senior staff, too, and thus has Taylor's ear.

"If I do, then they'll have to watch me operating." Elisabeth says, with an annoying matter-of-factness, "They do know that, don't they?"

She remains absolutely impassive in the face of his irritated scowl. She may be slight, she may be short - but she's never been one to be crossed. Glaring, the anonymous man indicates that everyone else leave.

The walk back to her house leaves Yseult very nervous, and constantly looking about for fear that Jackson is waiting for her, either outside her door, or en route. Worse, what if he's inside? Trembling rather more than she would like, she punches in the entry code, and switches on the main lights almost before she's in the house.

Nothing.

Relieved, she shuts the door and hastily sets the deadlock. Now, only the override will open that door - and only Jim has that. Short of breaking windows, if Jackson wants to try again, he's going to get absolutely nowhere. As far as she's concerned, no-one's getting in from now on other than Jim, or Malcolm - once he's home.

Instinctively, she cuddles Erin close, "I miss your daddy, sweetheart." She whispers, "I wish he was home."

But, on the other hand, she's still very glad that he's not. If they've broken out the guns, then things are only set to get worse from here.