Radiation

               In the open space between the control room and the reactor dome vivid orange flames soared as high as the steam stacks, and heavy black smoke poured from the gaping hole of what used to be the containment dome. The flames seared at the edges of the open windows, and in the yellow firelight Archer rose to his feet, grabbed Tuart with one hand and dragged him away from the window, then Yaara who had been closer. He leapt upon her to smother a small flame that had caught her dress.

               “The reactor!” Tuart shouted as loud as possible. Shut it down, shut it down!!” He stumbled and fell again.  Yaara was unconscious. “Close the compartments!” Archer staggered to the back of the room where the neutron bombardment was controlled. He didn’t know if it was operating or not, but he grabbed the handle, burning his hands, and pulled it downward with all of his strength until the strobing red light above had shut off.  Smoke was thick, but the safety monitors in some parts of the facility still operated and two of his monitors ran on battery while the emergency generators kicked in. Wrapping a cloak around his nose and mouth he stumbled to Tuart at the monitor console. Tuart labored to reach another console that would slam shut several sections in the reactor, shutting off the oxygen to help put out the fire. Tuart’s reach was short, but Archer slammed his fist, protecting the burnt skin of his palm, on a series of large orange buttons spread across the control counter. Through ashes and smoke he watched on the monitors as the doors began to slam shut.

               “NO!” Archer shouted! He reached to grab the monitor then slammed the buttons again, but it was a one way trip for the emergency doors. “KELLAM!?!” 

Salvage

               “Evacuation was the top priority,” Valerie said with a sigh. Bernard took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

               “Yes, yes, but I need a break. I don’t remember this in History; it’s overwhelming.”

               “It’s not Earth history,” she reminded him.

               “It’s Starfleet history.”

               “It was a mission like any other,” Valerie said. She pulled her hair into a single long tail behind her head and fastened it with a red clip.

               “It doesn’t sound like just any other mission.”

               “Why don’t we go do something else this afternoon?” Valerie stood up and stretched, leaning down to touch her hands to her toes. “How about we go to Namaste; you think there’s a class today?”

               “Are you kidding? Sit down and keep going! What happened?”

               “At least run down to Martinelli’s and pick up something for lunch. I’ll make tea…” she smiled.

               Two days and nights passed before the immediate danger subsided. The fire was out although the ground was still hot and scorched. Video robots were ready to be deployed into the reactor. Darkness swallowed up the little town of empty streets and vacant buildings. The transports sat silent and still although still attached by their umbilical wires overhead. The light of the smallest moon cast fluttering shadows on the ground from the few trees still standing at the edge of Tammalynnia. Smoke still lingered in the air, blocking out the stars. Small bits of thin grey ash covered the landscape, the tops of buildings, the streets.

               “No matter what anyone says, this wasn’t a meltdown,” Archer said. “There was no reason, nothing, to cause an explosion except a bomb. I’m telling you, I can tell the difference.” He stood at the outer edge of their lean-to, one of hundreds set up over the last two days for those unable to stay in their homes for one reason or another: fire, water damage, smoke, structural collapse, or they had come in from the edges of town to help with damage control.

               Laskin finished 40 hours straight of triage and emergency treatment on casualties for burns, dehydration, lacerations, and puncture wounds. The radiation exposure was the least abundant of the injuries given the actual damage from the explosion. He sat at the back of the lean-to on a handmade floor mat. His head hung low.

               “I have to agree with you, sir. If it was a meltdown we’d have had some warning, more radiation sickness, different kinds of burns.” He closed his eyes and lay back on the mat. “My ears are still ringing.” He brushed at some debris sticking to his shoulder.

               “I want you two to stay here in Tammalynnia and help out with the recovery, stay in touch with everyone at the reactor and the complex.  I’m going back to the shuttle, if it’s still there, and get a message to Starfleet. We’re sitting ducks here, with just a shuttle. We can get into orbit, but what then?”

               “That’s a long walk, sir,” Samuels commented. She rubbed her eyes and tried to stretch a few muscles in her back. She’d been assisting Laskin wherever possible at the infirmary. Archer had spent his last 48 hours organizing the evacuation with Marandola, the assistant administrator of Reactor Two. They met the first day when the group came to get jobs. If she knew anything about the alien technology, she didn’t give it up.

               “No other choice. There’s no communication here, there’s no other way for me to get help. I’ll catch a konji cart if there are any around still. You two stick together. Use communicators only when necessary and only in private. We’re still terra incognito, and security is at risk.”

               “Has anyone heard an updated death toll?” Samuels asked quietly. She looked for activity in the road standing from the edge of the lean-to. All was relatively quiet. Orange dots from hundreds of campfires revealed a city in ruins. Most had some iron pots boiling water or stew or soup, a few people had fashioned grills to cook some produce or a stray animal that might have wandered too close to the camp. Akalli had not been dependent on electricity for long enough to have forgotten how to rough it.

               In the distance loomed the outline of a reactor shell and a twisted skeleton of steel girders that had formerly been the office buildings. Jonathan stared at the wreckage, straining to see in the dim moonlight. Jagged rooftops obscured most of the vista. Dew had already started to form making the ashes stick to every surface. A hand cart pushed by an elder Akalli was stacked with cages of live pheasants. They were quiet in the dark but the wheels of the cart disturbed them just enough to give away their position.

               “Would you like a pheasant for your dinner?” the man asked Archer. “I am happy to dress it for you,” he added.

“No, thank you, sir, we’ve eaten already.” The man simply wheeled to the next tent shelter with the same question. Apparently the news was spreading beyond the city. But how far? Archer looked back at Samuels.

“I heard from Minister Maahl that the count was 32, as of this morning,” the Admiral said quietly.

“The radiation is down to point O-2 mille Sieverts and it’s dropping, so exposure now shouldn’t be significant. I don’t think we’ll see a lot more casualties. Burns, lesions, broken bones, bronchitis and pneumonia, that isn’t going away just yet.” Laskin spoke with his eyes closed, his head on a wadded up cloak.

               “I guess that the news has spread, but how far is anyone’s guess. The fallout and evacuation can’t be more than 100 kilometers in diameter,” Archer said. He scratched a little at the healing laceration on his temple, and the cosmetic ridges designed to disguise his species. “This doesn’t feel right,” he said to Samuels.

               “Your appliance is damaged, Admiral,” she said. “Maybe Laskin can…” On the mat Laskin was asleep, beginning to snore as he slipped into an exhaustive sleep. “Maybe not,” she finished.

               “Ensign, I’m…I’m going to go to Kellam’s, first. I remember how we got there, it’s wasn’t too far off the konji road. But as soon as I get to the shuttle I’ll contact the two of you first. Endeavour or the Soval or Discovery should be able to pick up my message in a few hours, but I’ll come back for you.”

               “What if anyone’s looking for you, sir? And, your head? I can dress that for you.”

               “Just tell them I went home. I think it’s dark enough I won’t worry about this for now,” he said touching the little damaged crest. “Keep trying to find out what the link is between this bomb and the Tellarites. Go ahead and contact me if you come up with something interesting.”

               “Aye,sir. Safe journey.”