"Explain to me again why we're out here in the middle of nowhere at midnight," the red-haired woman said with a sigh.
The man, who was driving, glanced over at her with a smile. "Just a hunch."
"A hunch? You got me out of bed for a hunch? I thought you had something more tangible!" she replied irritably.
"I didn't want to do this by myself and have you miss all the fun," the driver replied sarcastically as he scanned the road ahead. "Besides, what were you doing in bed this early anyway?"
"Sleeping."
"I always figure there will be plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead," the driver replied.
"And some of us don't mind going around with heavy bags under our eyes too, but I'm not one of them," the woman replied, pausing. "It's those Native American burial mounds isn't it? You think there's a clue there? Something we missed?"
The man adjusted himself in the driver's seat. "Those people back there all spoke of an ancestor rising from the grave and harassing the townsfolk."
"And you believed them?" the woman asked incredulously.
"I don't know, but that's why we're out here isn't it Scala? They had to have seen something; and whether it's an old ancestor or not, five people have mysteriously disappeared over the past two months. I figured this was the best place to start," the driver replied.
"And you figured we should come out at night because spirits only show themselves at night and disappear with first light, right Mullen?" Scala commented sarcastically.
"Exactly. I knew you'd understand," Mullen responded dryly. "Here it is up ahead I think." He pulled the car over and the two got out and quietly closed the doors. Both wore long overcoats, and each made a pistol ready as they left the car and carefully made their way up a small hill. They took up positions such that they could keep an eye on the mounds in question while mostly concealing themselves behind the small hill and surrounding foliage.
The two watched silently waiting for something to happen as the night grew darker and colder; neither spoke. The only sound was that of the wind through the trees and the chirp of an occasional insect. Mullen and Scala waited patiently as their thoughts began to drift, until all at once another sound grabbed their attention simultaneously; a strange low hum that grew louder and louder as each second passed. They looked at each other with confusion and apprehension; this wasn't what they expected. The wind then picked up and a strange light began to fill the sky.
Scala remained crouched while Mullen stood and squinted into the sky, trying to see above the trees, to see what was going on. The surrounding insects fell silent; the only sounds now were the loud hum and the swirling wind. Suddenly, what appeared to be an aircraft of some sort passed very close overhead, though it wasn't any aircraft either of the people on the ground had ever seen. Mullen ducked reflexively and turned his head up to look upon it as the thing passed; it was a metallic gray craft, at least as long as a bus and certainly wider. Instead of wings, strange cylindrical tubes could be seen, one on each side, attached to the craft near the bottom; both appeared to be damaged.
The craft passed very rapidly overhead; moments later the loud sound of metal on rock was heard, indicating the craft had crashed into the ground some distance ahead. "Come on!" Mullen called out, and the two ran off in the direction of the crash.
***
"Stabilizers off-line!" Lieutenant Reiv shouted to the crew of the Runabout Perseus over the din of computer warnings, engine discharges, and sparking panels. The viewscreen, when it would cooperate and remain active, showed that they were clearly headed straight towards a crash landing. Their engines were off-line and so was their comm system; or so they assumed since they couldn't raise the Bristol or Starfleet Command. All they knew was that moments ago they'd been charting a gaseous anomaly; the next thing they knew the captain had hailed them and there was a bright flash of light. When it had cleared, they had found many of their systems crippled and their ship about to enter the atmosphere of Earth. A quick decision was made to eject the warp core; with their systems going off line, the possibility of a core breach was a very real danger, especially after a crash landing, and it wasn't something they would be able to bring under control in present circumstances.
"Try to bring the nose up if you can!" Ivanovna called out as the four strapped themselves in preparing for the worst.
"Forward thrusters activated!" Reiv called out, struggling with the controls. The ship continued to shake as its descent progressed.
"There's a very large group of trees ahead; about two minutes away, present course and speed," Lieutenant Michaels reported.
"We'll see if we actually make it," Reiv mumbled to himself, unheard over the noises of the ship. The Runabout continued its descent, bobbing up and down as Reiv tried to keep control of the craft.
"Lifeforms on the surface, Lieutenant," Ensign Leland reported to Ivanovna. "Humans."
"Brace yourselves!" Reiv called out as the Runabout began to skim the trees, finally striking several full force and sliding along the ground with a terrific crunch. The lights failed, and a brief, sharp cry was heard before the ship stopped sliding and there was silence.
"Computer," the pained voice of Lieutenant Ivanovna called out. "Lights." The computer didn't respond; not even with an error. "Dammit," she said quietly as she carefully unstrapped herself from her seat. She gingerly got up and took a couple of steps; she had bruises up and down her body but quickly determined that no important bones were broken. 'Lucky,' she thought to herself. "Is anyone else alive in here?" she asked of the air.
"Yes," replied Ensign Leland quietly. "Though I think my leg is busted."
"Stay where you are Ensign," Ivanovna replied. "I'm going to try and get some light in here." She felt her way along one wall, until her fingers found the familiar impression of an access panel. She opened it and produced Starfleet issue palm beacon flashlights. Ivanovna activated one of them and looked around. She saw Ensign Leland still strapped in his chair; his right leg was twisted at a funny angle and blood was coming from his side, his face betraying the excruciating pain he felt. Reiv was slumped over his station, having smashed his console with his forehead. Panning over further, Ivanovna nearly gagged; Lieutenant Michaels' restraints had clearly failed her, for she had been thrown awkwardly into the bulkhead, breaking her spine in over a dozen places and crushing her skull. "Michaels is dead," Ivanovna informed Ensign Leland as she tried to keep her voice even, "and Reiv is either dead or unconscious. I need to find a working tricorder."
Ivanovna dug through debris for a few minutes until she produced a phaser, a tricorder, and an emergency med-kit. She took them and made her way back to the front of the vessel, where she knelt next to Lieutenant Reiv. "Reiv has a concussion and is unconscious," Ivanovna confirmed. "I think he'll be okay, but it would be nice if we could get him back to the Bristol, or to a planetary medical facility." She then walked over and knelt next to Ensign Leland, scanning him with the tricorder as she did so. "Your right leg is obviously broken, Ensign," she informed him honestly. "You have a piece of ceiling in your right side; if I pull it out, you'll probably bleed to death before I can do anything about it. You need surgery. I'm going to leave it where it is, alright?"
"Yes," Leland replied, groaning in pain as much as in distress at the extent of his injuries.
"This is the Runabout Perseus to anyone receiving this signal," Ivanovna called, pressing her comm-badge. She paused and frowned, "Lieutenant Ivanovna to anyone hearing this, come in."
"Why doesn't anyone answer?" Ensign Leland breathed.
Ivanovna patted him lightly on the shoulder as she stood and moved towards one of the Runabout's passenger exits. She flipped open a panel and pressed several of the buttons, but nothing happened. Frowning, the six foot six inch Chief of Security crouched and opened another panel close to the floor. After pressing a few more buttons she got the door to release. Ivanovna put her tricorder at her waist and readied her phaser and her palm beacon flashlight as she pushed the door open slowly.
The sight Ivanovna was greeted with shocked her; two people, a man and a woman dressed in overcoats, sprang up the minute the door was open. "Good evening," the man said simply. They each held an old-style pistol in their hands, though the woman pointed hers at the ground, and the man pointed his at the sky, his arms raised. Both carried flashlights and were half-smiling in anticipation as they tried to appraise their visitor.
Ivanovna blinked at them several times, raising her own hands as she did so. "Zdrastvuytcha! Menya zovyt Katrina Ivanovna, i ya...." she started to reply, before noticing the man's smile fade as he brought his gun forward, aiming it at her, while shining his flashlight in her face. The woman beside him blinked at her compatriot for a split second before following suit. It took a second, but Ivanovna realized her universal translator must be malfunctioning. Although she understood English, she was used to speaking in her native tongue and having it translated for her. In this case, her subcutaneous universal translator should've translated her speech into English, even for people not so equipped, after identifying such as their native tongue. She quickly surmised that her use of a foreign language must have frightened these people. 'But where am I?' she thought to herself. 'Or perhaps more appropriately, when?'
"Mullen, what is it? What's wrong?" the woman asked while Ivanovna continued to look on in bewilderment.
"She's Russian, Scala, that's what's wrong. Call for backup," Mullen replied evenly, keeping his weapon, and his attention, trained on Ivanovna. "Keep your hands in the air!" he instructed the Bristol's Chief of Security, who did as she was told as she tried to figure out what was going on. He reached inside his overcoat and produced identification. "I'm Agent Mullen and this is Agent Scala," he continued, nodding at the woman with him. "We're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We're going to need you to come with us and answer a few questions about who you are, what that is you were flying, and how you managed to crash land in a Montana graveyard belonging to the Blackfeet Indian Reservation."
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