[Note: the title of this fic is Breathing in a Vacuum, not Screaming in
a Vacuum as the traitorous left side of my brain labeled it in pt. 1.
Drivel to follow]

	Under different circumstances I might enjoy this experience, Nina
William thought as she brought the samples under UV light to kill off
any contaminants. She glanced up at her guard, standing attentively in
the lab's corner. She continued to slave away over the equipment, sorely
missing her research assistant's aid. Unfortunately, John was dead back
in her lab, gunned down by her kidnappers. 
	Dirty aliens, she thought savagely as she sat down to check the results
of the latest batch of samples. They wouldn't let her touch the original
samples from her lab, or allow her any replication equipment to generate
a new batch of her life's work. Instead they forced her to pervert it.
And she had no choice if she wanted to live.
	She was not as na�ve as they believed. Nina had no illusions of her
survival past the project's completion, but she was a pragmatist. The
more time she had, the more chances at escape, or at least some form of
revenge. Besides, survival after her work was finished would be an
exercise in futility anyway.
	And there was Alpha. That man, no, beast, frightened her more than she
could express. He was colder that she had thought possible for a human.
And his visits�she shivered as the thought passed through her mind. He
would have no compunctions against her death, in a suitably horrible
manner.
	So Nina Williams worked on the project all day and tried to fall asleep
despite the fear at night. Her dreams were simple. Revenge and escape
were the good nights, while Alpha visiting her in her sleep made up the
nightmares. 
	She glanced at her reflection in a beaker. Her blonde hair was pulled
back behind her head, and the lab coat she wore had been with her in
various incarnations since grad school. Nina's appearance had always
been a source of pride for her, or at the very least a tool to get what
she needed. But now it was a liability. 
	She sighed heavily as her hands began to shake again. Not in fear, but
anger. I'll get them for this, she thought, if it ends up with us all
dead. Inside her lab coat pocket she clutched her locket, the picture of
her family burning in her mind.

	Dan took two steps across his room and stopped. Not because he wanted
to, just because his room ended. And he had a single. He flopped back on
his bunk clanging his head against the bunk wall. He winced and held his
head for a second. Dan went back to unpacking his duffel, stuffing his
clothes into the little dresser at the head of his bed. He set up his
posters on the metal walls, a simple wilderness scene gracing the space
above his bed. 
	"What did I do to deserve this?" Dan asked himself, glancing down at
the tiny computer terminal that occupied most of his desk. He checked
his email. He had three messages, one from the Captain, one from the
Engineer and one from Sakura. He didn't have the heart to read Sakura's
message just yet so he glanced through the first. It was the mission
statement, in detail. Twenty pages of travel notes, previous intel and
projected timetables. It was also too much work for him to go through
right now.
	So he glanced through the tech readouts provided at the Captain's
request. They were informative, but not especially detailed. He needed
to get out of his room and explore the Damocles. He stood up, slowly as
not to bang his head on the ceiling and left his room.
	He wandered the halls for a few moments, still not quite at home with
the layout of the ship. He nodded to the crewmates that passed by,
trying to act like he belonged there. He finally passed by the small
door that led to the fighter bay.
	"What the hell," he muttered and entered the flight deck. The door slid
open, revealing a much calmer state of affairs than the last time he'd
seen it. There were only a few technicians around and few of them were
working on anything in particular. 
	"Can I help you sir?" asked a young technician as Daniel stepped in.
	"Lt. Daniel. I've just been attached to the Damocles and I've been
informed that I'm leading the flight group."
	"Yeoman Richards. Naomi Richards," the tech said, looking up from her
work to reveal a cute young woman. "Pleasure to have you aboard."
	"Thanks. Might I take a peek around?"
	"I'd be happy to give you a tour. Where would you like to start?"
	After fifteen minutes of trading jokes and stories with the
surprisingly well traveled young woman, they reached Shrike 1. Dan took
a good hard look at it, starting a walk around almost unconsciously.
Naomi smiled and went back to her magazine, having seen many pilots fall
into the same trap in the past couple of days. 
	Dan checked under the long swept back wings, checking for hard-points.
There were no heavy missile mounts under the wings, nor fittings for gun
pods, high intensity lasers or spook modules. He shrugged it off, not
really being too fond of any of the additional junk outside his fighter.
He found the ventral missile battery, hidden behind a heavy blast door.
There wasn't much in the way of lettering on the hull, and no warning
labels to be found. 
	"Must be trouble to work on," Daniel muttered as he moved back towards
the engines. The exhaust ports were nestled in with countless thermal
camouflage bricks. They were angled to release as little heat as
possible. Then he saw the booster assembly. 
	"Oh man." The exhaust ports alone were as big as his torso. More than
three times bigger than the booster ports on Tiger 1. Dan quickly tried
to remember the equations relating port area to thrust, and settled on a
value somewhere around twice what Tiger 1 had. 
	He headed up to the cockpit, stopping to whistle at the beam cannon
turret. The lead edge of the wing was the perfect stepping stone for
getting into the cockpit, which had more than twice the volume of the
older Valkyrie models, thick padding on the seat and a spacious control
setup. He rested his hands on the HOTAS paddles, letting out a big sigh
at the mass he felt there. 
	"This might not be so bad after all," he said.
	Sitting on a hot response cart across the bay, Naomi fought back
laughter at seeing the same series of events play out for the twelfth
time that week. 
	On the bridge of the Damocles Jonah Fitzroy sat in his command chair,
glancing at the readouts on the armrests from time to time as his new
ship glided into the depths of solar system. Under Reflex power it would
take little more than a week to reach the first patrol zone, the moons
of Jupiter. 
	"Coffee?" a voice asked behind him.
	"If you don't mind Joshua." Jonah turned to his ship's physician.
"How's the new ship treating you?"
	"Finally settled into sickbay. Its strange, but this ship seems to grow
on you."
	"It grew on me as soon as I got to drive," Jonah joked. "And the new
job of ship's Chaplain?"
	"Services are never full. But never empty either. There are a
surprising number of believers onboard. None of them believes in the
same thing. How is your family?"
	"Amanda's fine, but Zoe runs her ragged. My brother's looking after
them until I get back. Your mother?"
	"Still fine. Here's your coffee."

	Alpha appeared on the bridge with no fanfare or celebration. One moment
everything was normal on the bridge, and then next it was deathly silent
as the ship commander belted orders to waiting subordinates. 
	"There is a vessel departing for the Jovian moons. We will be else
where before it arrives."
	"Yes sir!" the young Zentradi helmsman reported. "What destination?"
	"I don't care," Alpha told him. "Zelk! I wish to leave the intrepid
Earthers a surprise. Take only what you will need."
	One of the men who had been sitting down saluted and left. Alpha sat in
his command chair, which had been left vacant since his last appearance
on the bridge. The men sat silent and rigid, the rumors running through
their minds. They remembered their elders telling of Alpha's coup to
gain power from the last leader. Even the veteran Zentradi had shivered
when they found the body. Or the first man to call Alpha a half breed.
That story was told in hushed tones even when on leave, as if its
telling could still bring down harm.
	Above it all, Alpha sat alone at his chair, hands mashed into fists
from the effort of suppressing his rage. To all those who saw him, he
looked deathly calm. [end part 4] 

Drivel:
	Not too much to add, again. I'm just letting this one write itself,
with no help from me. 

Once again, for more like this and several things completely different,
visit www.brandeis.edu/~jmele and comment via jmele@brandeis.edu

All characters are not mine. They belong to various companies that could
have me killed if necessary.