Karen lay on a couch in the rec room, posed to fall asleep. After all the excitement of the last few hours, she thought she deserved a nap. She'd been sent into space, and then there was all this talk about a mysterious unidentified object...there was so much to do, so little time, and all Karen wanted to do was take a nap. She closed her eyes and began to drift off.

Passing most of the crew in the rec room, as she headed to the cargo bay, Isolde had half a mind to check what equipment had been loaded. Who knew how it would shift with their odd horizontal and then vertical take off? She briefly wondered if she was being anti social by doing this, but she did have a job that needed to be done.
Frowning to herself she continued down the corridor and towards the cargo bay. She was just as tired as the rest of the crew, but couldn't exactly turn in yet. There was still too much to do, too much to see go right.

Jericho was expecting much more during liftoff. He honestly thought it would feel tougher on his body than anything he's ever done. But then again Jericho has been through Alot. From HALO jumps to deep sea demolitions missions to even using experimental vehicles. The launch wasn't even in Jericho's top ten most adrenaline pumping situations. He was grinning as he noticed a few people getting sick or was tired. But then again they haven't been through his type of training.

Maybe he'd suggest a continuous workout routine for the crew to the Commander.

For now he just wanted to get out of his seat. He stood up and took of his helmet and put it on a rack. He liked how his suit was painted with digital camo. Having ties with the Government will do that for you.

Jericho started to walk down the corridors and walked in the crew quarters and made sure all of his stuff was in his locker. Everything was accounted for. He pulled out his knife and started sharpening it. A person would never know when a weapon would be needed. He sat on a bunk he designated his. Closer to the ground so he could jump out quickly in case something happened.

A loud 'boink' echoed through the cargo bay followed by a hissing “Son of a b..!”.

John rubbed his sore head while reminding himself to keep a stealthy attitude. He muted his cursing and briefly beamed around the room. The Mars Rover was standing quietly in front of a big airlock hatch. He assured himself there was nobody on the two aluminum stairs behind it, shrugged and continued his quest for smuggled treasure: Dried food, rock samples, medical supplies.. where wás his secret stash? He quickly placed the items back in their containers and looked behind the second aluminum bulkhead where yet another set of containers was stacked away.

On the bottom left was a small container labelled 'JD 15'. John opened the lid to reveal a small bottle of Stuarts Draft. This was definitely his case. Suddenly a subtle echo filled the cargo bay behind him. John quickly closed the case and pretended to look for some dried food. He casually closed the bulkhead before turning around.

"Can I help you find something Davies?" Isolde asked spotting the geologist digging through crates, and generally tearing up the cargo bay. "You're making quite a mess." She added as she walked further into the cargo bay. Isolde liked things neat, organized and easy to find. By John digging and throwing things about, it made it much harder to find things later. Flicking on the light in the cargo bay, she spotted him opening a crate. From where she stood, she couldn't exactly see what was marked on it; which was perhaps a good thing. If she had known what he had in the crate, well she might have asked the Captain what the best policy was for dealing with sneaky, conniving crew members.

John was getting off on quite the bad foot with her, and right now she was thinking through all of the ways to keep him out of the cargo bay. Short of recoding the locks, there really weren't many options. After all, he did need to have access to his equipment. But, he really shouldn't have been digging through the other crates too. "Did you loose a piece of equipment?"

The light went on in the cargo bay as John cursed under his breath. So much for his stealthy maneuvers. He did what any good politician would do when caught with his hand in the cookie jar: Deny everything and act normal. John casually gathered the remaining stuff and placed it back in their containers. A small envelope disappeared in his pocket. Then he grabbed a rock sample, closed the lid on the bulkhead and turned to face the payload commander.

“Hi” - he began defensively - “No need to waste your time. I was just grabbing some rock samples to test the microscopes; Yellowstone's diagenesis may compare to future samples.” John tried to act normal but his face turned slightly red. He forced a smile and tried to look innocent. In reality he looked more like a disturbed mountain man on Prozac. From the corner of his eye he spotted the bottle of Stuarts Draft. It was still standing behind the debris as he positioned himself in Isoldes line of sight.

He decided to change subject. “So how about that wormhole?”

It sounded like the space travel equivalent of mentioning the merry weather. Maybe he should have gone with something less obvious like gossiping about the other crew members or talking about family. He hoped she'd buy the diversion.

He had an eye for these things.

Jared and Karen caught said eye, specifically. She was asleep, so Varek didn’t want to bother her – he went looking for Jared instead. The poor man had christened his takeoff with his last meal on the rise, and Varek just wanted to be sure it was nothing but good ol’ rollercoaster terror – just for his own peace of mind.

He knocked on Jared’s door.

“The Doc’s come to see you man,” he called good-naturedly.

Isolde raised and eyebrow at John's comment. "I see... I highly doubt that samples from Mars are going to be the same as those from a national park in Wyoming..." She remarked. She hadn't gotten to her current rank and position by taking any bullshit or crap that came off any old person in a crew.
"You know that there are no such things as Wormholes, and you're just trying to cover your ass." She stated bluntly as she tried to peer around John to see what he was trying so anxiously to hide.
Already she was taking a dislike to their geologist for the mission, any person worth their weight on a crew didn't pull the crap that John was attempting. "You remind me a politician..." She grumbled. Isolde did not like people who attempted to be dishonest with her, and as the payload commander for this particular mission, she did need to know if there was anything in the cargo bay might be dangerous to the Lewis & Clark and her crew.

John felt a hint of suspicion in the air, like he was being interrogated for a crime. He didn't like it. As he was about to lecture Isolde on the principles of Martian Geology, Isolde made an even worse statement. How dared she to confuse him with a politician! It was bad enough that she'd questioned his, admittedly, partially invented geological methodology, but this was the proverbial drop that spilled the bucket.

"Me a politician! Ha! Geologists are rubbish politicians; they had to drag the Romanian president out of the pub each time he escaped his own security!" Suddenly, hiding a few bottles of booze didn't seem like such an issue anymore. "Look, I was just picking up a bottle of scotch that I smuggled, that's all. I thought we might do with some drinks on this tin boat. If you don't like it; then report me to the captain. I'm off to my bunk!"

John picked up the bottle of Stuart's Draft and stormed out of the cargo bay. He went straight for the rec room; poured himself a drink and put the bottle on the table for everyone else to drink. "Better drink it now." he muttered. As he calmed down a thought entered his head: There were definitely some trust issues between him and Isolde. He should have controlled his emotions better. After all, they would have to walk on Mars together. He took a sip of his scotch while David Bowie's lyrics sounded; "Is there life on Mars?"

223 days later.

The seven and a half month trip was more enduring and challenging than all aboard the L&C imagined. Not only was the trip mentally draining but there were a few unexpected complications that the crew was forced to successfully handle.

Varek Demidov, the ship's doctor, was one of the only on-board and first to recognize a potential problem with Jared Jones. Most would have overlooked the minor symptoms but Demidov's superb training and background allowed him to come to believe Jones was not handling the long journey well. He assessed Jared was becoming increasingly claustrophobic, anxious and incapable of handling the stress of space. The good doctor kept a close eye on the astrophysicist and treated him when needed with mild sedatives and other medication.

The other member of the Lewis and Clark to notice something was amiss with Jones was the security specialist, Jericho Yaegers. While not knowing the extent of the problem as the doctor, he was a little suspicious and concerned of him possibly having an episode and kept a close eye on him during the journey, although the past month Jones seemed to be doing much better.

The Lewis and Clark was very close to its holding destination to wait for the mysterious object to appear. Commander Styles and Pilot Suarez carefully maneuvered the ship on the plotted course. Slowly a minute amount of dust and gas began to form in the L&C's path. Styles and Suarez at first were not concerned. But after several hours the amount and intensity of the space particles became more abundant. By the eighth hour the dust and gas began to obscure visibility. The confident commander remained calm and ordered everyone to strap in as a precaution.

By the tenth hour visibility was sporadic at best. Occasionally the gas and space dust would clear just long enough to see far away for a few moments only to cloud the ship quickly again. One by one instrument warning lights would go off. And one by one the warnings and failures became more severe. Styles and Suarez frantically worked in unison to fix the Lewis and Clark. Styles attempted to contact control back on earth but was unsuccessful. The propulsion, sensors, power and array of other systems were failing faster than the commander and pilot could fix them.

Suarez was dealing with the warning lights when she noticed Styles fixated on something straight ahead. The pilot moved her head to see what the commander was staring at but saw nothing but thick dust. After fifteen seconds she saw it as the dust dissipated for a few seconds. At first it was just a brief blur but then she saw it. And Suarez had never seen anything like it. The pilot looked back at the crew and noticed everyone was seeing the same thing.

The object filled the crews visibility and was quite large. It was circular in nature with a gaseous cloud that appeared to spiral toward the outer-edge with the center displaying a dim glow. And the Lewis and Clark was headed straight for it.

Styles announced her intentions to Suarez to change course. As the pair went through the checklist the object once again disappeared from view from the dust, only appearing every few minutes and only then for a few seconds. After Suarez and Styles completed their checklist they attempted to shift the ship away from the immediate area. Once they commenced the procedures they quickly realized the craft was suffering propulsion and power failures and were unable to navigate away.

They also discovered they were being drawn toward the object and every hour the pull on the ship became more powerful as the Lewis and Clark slowly headed straight for it.

Both Suarez and Stylez took turns attempting to contact NASA and steer the medium-sized ship away but were unable to accomplish either. Stylez briefed the crew on the situation and informed everyone there was nothing that could be done. So the crew watched helplessly as the mysterious object grew larger and larger as it briefly appeared for a few seconds every couple minutes.

Less than an hour later the object was so massive and close it was the only thing visible when it appeared intermittently. Suddenly the Lewis and Clark began to shake, increasing in intensity every minute. The crew became worried and concerned the ship may disintegrate from the violent trembles. In a flash, the dust and gas rapidly disappeared in a matter of mere minutes. The only thing visible was the dim-glowing center. The crew watched helplessly as they slowly entered the center of the object. After ten minutes the entire ship was covered in a dim light. The shaking had ceased as an eerie calm set over the craft.

Without warning the ship leaped forward, pinning the crew of the Lewis and Clark hard against their seats. Their faces were glued back tight as their heads felt like they may explode. Streams of light flew across the ship as it warped forward. The crew struggled to stay conscious as their bodies were exposed to more speed and force than they had ever experienced. The light was now just a faint blur as the ship rocketed to an unknown destination.

And then darkness.

The crew of the L&C was jolted awake by a massive noise that violently shook the ship, bringing them back from unconsciousness. Styles and Suarez quickly scanned their instruments attempting to find out where they were and what hit the ship. Styles saw they were experiencing structural failure and slowly losing oxygen and power. She did some quick math in her head and estimated they had about an hour left before they were completely out of both. But more importantly she noticed the propulsion was back to working properly.

Suarez was trying to figure out where they were. As she looked over the instrument panel she noticed something extremely odd. None of the navigation equipment working. In fact the section where it was supposed to display their location was oddly blank. For some reason the ship's computer had no idea where they were. The calm pilot immediately saw a small, blue planet extremely close to their location. Along with Stylez and the rest of the crew they quickly began analyzing everything about the planet they could, attempting to determine if it was suitable for an emergency landing. It appeared to consist mainly of water which was a good sign. Unfortunately they were unable to determine if had an atmosphere capable of supporting life. But the crew of the Lewis and Clark were out of options. Stylez and Suarez began a checklist to attempt to land on the strange planet.

After thirty minutes of frantic preparation the crew was ready to attempt the daring landing on the unknown planet. Stylez put the ship on the appropriate trajectory as the crew sat in fearful anticipation. The planet grew larger by the second as the L&C slowly entered the atmosphere. The crew looked on in great worry as they wondered if the damaged ship would survive entry. Flames appeared as the craft rocketed into the blue planet. The cabin became very hot and began to once again shake violently. Just as the L&C appeared certain to break apart the flames disappeared and the shaking stopped. The ship instantly emerged from the clouds and the crew saw the faint curve of the planet from its extreme height. Stylez and Suarez instantly saw three land masses. Two appeared to be approximately the size of Cuba with the other being just a tiny blip in the water. After a quick discussion with her pilot, Stylez picked one of the larger land areas and made a course for it.

The ship began shaking uncontrollably yet again as the propulsion began to fail. Stylez began to doubt if they would survive. She blocked those thoughts out of her mind and concentrated on the land mass. As the ship closed in on their destination the crew saw something that slightly relieved them; objects that appeared to resemble birds flying over the ocean. They then knew the planet could sustain life.

Stylez and Suarez struggled with the failing craft as they were now close enough to see details of the island. Most of it looked like it was mostly of a tropical nature. Tall trees littered the land as the pilot and commander struggled to locate an appropriate emergency landing site. Suddenly a small explosion rocked the ship as even more warning lights lit up the instrument panels. The crew simultaneously looked back and saw a fire erupting in the rear of the ship.

The Lewis and Clark was approximately 30,000 feet above the mysterious island. Smoke began to fill the ship as it raced toward land. Stylez suddenly noticed a small clearing a few miles ahead. Her and Suarez struggled with all their might to control the doomed ship as the fire and smoke began to spread. The clearing was now straight ahead. Stylez dipped the Lewis and Clark as low to the tree line as she could. The landing area was small and they were unsure if they had enough room to set the ship down. As soon as the craft cleared the last tree the commander quickly dropped it toward the ground.

The L&C hit the land extremely hard. The entire crew was jolted around in what seemed like multiple directions at once as the ship's nose crashed into the island. Massive amounts of dirt was tossed into the air as the craft grinded forward. The forest ahead was approaching at a rapid pace. Stylez and Suarez grunted as they used every last ounce of strength to control the ship. They suddenly lost their battle. Without warning the Lewis and Clark turned sideways, causing the ship to roll uncontrollably. Flashes of land and sky appeared through the cockpit as the crew was tossed around violently. Large chunks of the craft began to break away and fly off as the ship skid and rolled toward the trees. Eventually room ran out and the Lewis and Clark smashed against the tree line. The majority of the ship broke apart as the main cabin miraculously remained intact before it came to a complete stop against two large, thick trees. The entire crew was knocked unconscious.

As the crews' eyes flickered open the smoke and smell of fuel assaulted their senses. The main fire was extinguished and just two minor ones remained and did not appear to be spreading. There are several large holes in the cabin and visibility is low. You can barely make out one another from a few feet away through the smoke. Moans and groans appear to be coming from all over as the crew slowly begins to awaken and move.

One Mississippi... Two Mississippi... Silence.

That was all the geologist's mind had registered during the black out. His body felt nothing, like his senses were shut down from his nerve system. Slowly the feeling was seeping back into his body: he was nauseous. John didn't know how much time had passed, he only knew he wasn't dead. He was in too much pain to be dead. It felt as if a steam waltz had run him over; every inch of his body was screaming with sensation. His muscles felt like jelly, their strength depleted to withstand the roaring maelstrom of G-force they had to endure. He wanted to puke, but his organs refused to cooperate.

“Dnk.. Dnk..”

His head was throbbing, synchronous to the pulse of his heart. Slowly his mind regained activity. There appeared to be something pressing against his right cheek. As a matter of fact, the unpleasant sensation of something pushing spread to his right hip and arm. John sniffed. A sharp scent of smoke entered his nose. He coughed as he tasted the thick smoke on his lips, it caused him to open his eyes: A thick fog of smoke fell to the right where a white surface, filled with buttons and switches filled his horizon, distorted by a branching crack in his visor. It took a while before John realized what was going on; the ship had tilted on it's right side, the gravity must have ripped his seat from the floor and tossed it across the floor.

A burning sensation burst through his right hip. A sharp object had pierced his spacesuit. A deep red stain spread around the edges, dripping slowly on the 'floor'. John tried to look around, but he could only observe the corner of the ship. - The crew! - The thought jump started his mind like sniffing salt. He wondered what had happened to them. He needed to focus, he needed to listen! He shook his head and roared loudly. This seemed to work. A high pitch tone rustled in his head and with a crackling sound his hearing came back.

“Beeeeeeep...po... He.. ..eey!”

The noise was overwhelming. Several monitors were beeping in alarm. The sound of fire, crackling on the background, was accompanied by the hissing of a broken oxygen tank. Outside, the engines were still roaring their final breath. A deep base sounded as a big metal plate bend under the planet's gravity, tearing slowly with a lot of noise. It made it difficult to single out any signs of life. John inhaled a deep breath to shout at the top of his lungs:

“Is there anyone alive!”

Any sign of live would be enough to boost his morale. The geologist struggled to undo the cusps that held him in place. But he couldn't reach it. Not without moving his right hip, which was still pinned down to the floor. The situation didn't look very bright. He felt this energy depleting with every drop that spilled along his hip. The stupid space helmet prevented him from seeing anything in the cockpit. He decided to get angry, to spark his survivors instinct.

“Help! I'm stuck, dammit!”

All Jericho could hear was the crackling of electricity and the sounds of alarms going off throughout the complex. He was blinking in and out of consciousness. He could hear fire now. Was he dreaming? No, he could feel his body ache and his head was pounding as if someone took a hammer to his head. This was definitely not a dream.

He opened his eyes but for some reason he could only see half of everything. He started blinking. But it was stinging his right eye to blink. With the other half of his vision he could see his suit visor was cracked. He also noticed there was blood all over the right side of the visor. And from what he could feel he figured the ship landed on it's side. Jericho was still strapped to his seat, thank the lord. Jericho released the clamps on his helmet and took it off. Man his right eye hurt and why couldn't he see on the right side? He ignored it and threw the helmet on the ground. The ship was in horrible condition. It's safe to say she was wrecked.

Jericho then heard a yell for help in the forward cabin and started moving towards the sound.

Being last to his seat was not a good idea. Varek barely had time to secure himself when the dim light had sent them off hurtling into God-knows-where and he didn't even have space (no pun intended) to think -- before he knew it, he'd blanked, blacked, and woke.

A moan escaped his lips. He didn't even want to try to move. A faint voice, male: “Help! I'm stuck, dammit!” His first instinct was to bolt upright, but a sharp pain coursed through his shoulder, arm. Broken? He could barely see, but as he yanked the belt off, it was swollen to the touch. He winced. He worked his fingers into a fist, then exhaled loudly, frowning. If it wasn't broken, it was fractured, and he wondered how to get to his medical supplies -- or if they were still there.

"It's the Doc," he called to the voice. He struggled to his feet, gripping the seat with his good arm, keeping the injured one close to his chest. "Keep talking to me, tell me where you are."

John had never been so happy to hear Varek's voice as he was now. Even though the roaring noise around them made the response feel distant, the injured geologist knew he was going to be alright; The doc was coming for him. In a reflex he tried to get up, but an excruciating pain reminded him of his critical situation. There appeared to be something pressing on the chair, hindering his left arm from moving. Desperate to do anything to get the doc's attention, he resorted to the thing he knew best: Swearing loudly. “Doc! I can't see a damned thing but these walls; I must have landed in a corner somewhere!”

The sound of footsteps appeared to approach slowly, barely audible under the constant beeping. The big man couldn't help but grouse to himself. “Will somebody please shut down that goddamn alarm!” The footsteps paused for a brief moment. John pricked up his ears, anxious to make up for his lack of sight. In his concentration he noticed a second, more distant, pair of footsteps. These belonged to a heavier person, probably male, approaching faster, at the trained pace of a soldier. He felt compelled to shout again, if only to prevent himself from passing out. “I'm right over here!”

Finally, somebody had reached him. The sound of heavy objects being moved around felt like a godsend. As the pressure on his side was lifted he placed his liberated left arm on the floor. For a brief moment he contemplated to push himself up. However, he decided to wait; the pin in his hip would make it a painful experience. Convinced that it was the doctor who had come to his rescue, the geologist started to explain his medical situation. “Careful! A sharp object has pierced my right hip. We need to get it out somehow.”

A shadow of a grin -- judging by the amount of cussing, that was definitely John. The beeping was giving him a headache. He would have thrown something at it if there wasn't that risk of said object faceplanting someone. This thought slammed into him, almost physically -- someone could have died. Then he, too, cussed. A huge responsibility weighed down on his shoulders -- but isn't that why he was here? He reached John, who was calling, "I'm right over here!"

The man was trapped in his seat, on the floor, chunks of torn metal pushing him into place. Varek could've used a steady light, but trying as hard as he could to focus, he began moving debris away. His arm was irritating him, but the small pool of blood beneath John reminded him he was lucky. He'd need a splint and cast, but John needed more serious attention. "Hey, buddy," he said, peeking in through a cleared hole, a roughshod grin on his tousled face, "You'll be alright." He looked over his shoulder. Jericho. The man was in much better shape. Scanning over the second man, the first thing that struck Varek was his eye. Not yet being able to assess the extent of his injury, he said, "How are you feeling, man? If you feel up to it, I could use your help with moving some more of this debris away. John's trapped. I need to be able to get to him and take a look at his hip."