"Let This Be Your Last Battlefield" Part 1 of 2

Primary Characters:
Admiral Jurgen Hoth
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Lt. Commander Cassius Henderson
Major Saladin Bolivar
Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Lt. JG Corran Rex

Secondary Characters:
Captain Fedorio Escalanté
Commander John Zalletta
Lt. (JG) Cameron Bartlett
Ensign Rima Pennington
Second Lieutenant Angelienia
Second Lieutenant Kell Tainer

****

Vanguard 11
Deep Space
Near Quentite Warp Ship

****

Vanguard 1
Deep Space
Near Quentite Warp Ship

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Battle Bridge

***

Quentite Warp Ship
Deck 1
Command Deck

***

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Battle Bridge

***

Vanguard 11
Deep Space
Near Quentite Warp Ship

***

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Battle Bridge

"Facing Mortality"
Lt. JG Dr. Klaus Fienberg

Time: Shortly after "Disturbing Discoveries"

Location: Crashed Saucer

Klaus had made his way down a damaged turbolift onto deck 11. The Place filled the good doctor's heart with horror. All of these dead..... here.... now..... why?

=/\=Dr. Reynolds, this is Fienberg. I am now on deck 11. The Turbolift shaft I proceeded down is stuck on deck 12. Until I find a nearby shaft, sickbay will have to wait........=/\=

Suddenly a mass of screeching sounds and a loud thud about a minute afterward startled Klaus. Looking down the shaft behind him..... =/\=Never Mind, Doktor. Proceeding to deck 12.=/\=

Deck 12 actually appeared to be in better shape than deck 11 as the dark halls were illuminated by the flash light mounted on Klaus' shoulder.
'Less dead on this deck......."

The entrance to sickbay revealed otherwise...... Dr. Fienberg's heart nearly exploded, almost as if he was an empath. 'My god, what happened here!'

The Door to sickbay was half closed with a body in the middle of the doors. Likely the door was stuck open, in a rebounding loop until powerfailed. It was easily pulled open.

Sickbay was a horrorfest. The place was filled with bodies, some dead before the others, some dieing at the end, and the valient souls that tried in vain to save them. One of slumped over a biobed, lain on his back. The Pips of a Junior Grade Lieutenant rest on his neck. Just like the scans of everyone else, more than 28 years dead. Completely impossible.

The DNA of some of them, people he recognized. But for some reason, the lieutenant on the bed drew him closer and closer. Grim curiosity.

Klaus continued to resist, almost fearing what he would find. Propped against the opposite wall was a bizarre site. An Electric Bass Guitar.

He had to know. "Who are you Lieutnant?" The DNA was a VERY familiar sequence.

Dr. Fienberg collapse to the ground in horror, "Impossible.....IMPOSSIBLE! I'm dreaming, this is just a nightmare!"

=/\=DR. REYNOLDS! PLEASE!!! COME TO ME! SICKBAY! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!=/\=

What he had found was the most horrible thing he couldn't imagine. It was beyond what he could imagine. Beyond what anyone could imagine. The most horrible thing he could find in this god forsaken place was himself.

Dr. Janelle Reynolds
CMO
USS Galaxy

=/\=DR. REYNOLDS! PLEASE!!! COME TO ME! SICKBAY! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!=/\=

Dr. Reynolds didn't like the sound in his voice. She frantically made her way though the ship to deck 12. When she got there, Dr. Fienberg was on his knees, looking white as a ghost. She had never seen him look like this. She ran over to him as he proceded to motion to the dead body.

Upon closer examination, she also felt the blood leave her face and feeling nauseous. "This isn't happening." It was him, dead and in Sickbay. Dr. Reynolds wasn't sure if she wanted to know if she was also on this ship. She left a shocked Dr. Fienberg there as she went looking through the dead bodies.

Slowly looking at each uniform, she didn't find herself until she found her office. She picked up a picture that she recognized as hers. To her horror, she found herself. She had a part of the ship through her chest. At least she knew that she died instantly. It had gone through the heart. Even though she had seen dead bodies many times, seeing herself was something tht no one should ever see. As she ran out of her office, she vomited...something she hadn't done since the first time she saw a dead body. Outside the sickbay, she leaned against the wall and slid down in a sitting position.

Both doctors were now sitting in shock. Dr. Reynolds was feeling like they were in a bad horror movie. She was waiting for someone to yell "cut."

"Let This Be Your Last Battlefield" Part 2 of 2

Primary Characters:
Admiral Jurgen Hoth
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Lt. Commander Cassius Henderson
Major Saladin Bolivar
Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian Lt. JG Corran Rex

Secondary Characters:
Captain Fedorio Escalanté
Commander John Zalletta
Lt. (JG) Cameron Bartlett
Ensign Rima Pennington
Second Lieutenant Angelienia
Second Lieutenant Kell Tainer

****

USS Pershing
Deck 1
Bridge

"THEY'VE WHAT!???!"

"Just like I said sir... The Galaxy Fighter Wing just opened fire on our fighters." The Tactical Officer's report was no less believable the second time around.

Captain Fedorio Escalanté of the USS PERSHING flopped back in his seat in shock.

What in the name of the Blessed Virgin did M'Kantu think he was doing!??! Was he seriously going to start a battle with fellow starships just because he didn't like Admiral Hoth coming out here to relieve him?

"Raise Shields Mr. DeSoto," he ordered automatically as he desperately scanned his sensor readouts, "Bring Impulse Engines to 110% power and prepare for radical maneuvering."

"Aye sir, Shields up, and Engines charging to One-ten-Percent."

The Pershing, as the smallest craft present (not counting the fighters) was the quick hitter of Hoth's flotilla.   She was expected to dart in and out of Enemy fields of fire, delivering stinging hits to key systems, softening up an opponent for heavier Fleet Elements.

Unfortunately that also meant they were more vulnerable to crippling hits themselves, so Escalanté wanted the Pershing able to dodge out of the way on a moment's notice.

"Engineering reports 110% sir."

"Acknowledged, Communications, what do we have from the NIMITZ?"

"Text message only sir," the Andorian Comm Officer reported pivoting smoothly in his chair, "Maintain Reverse Yamaguchi Defensive Deployment, and standby for further orders... Hoth is trying to recall hail the Galaxy and demand a cease fire!"

"Let's pray he succeeds," Escalante muttered, pausing to cross himself nervously.  "Hold position Helm, but prepare to screen the fighters if necessary."

"Holding Position Aye sir."

~~~~Comeoncomeoncomeon. . . .~~~The Captains thoughts urged silently. ~~~Hoth is calling you M'Kantu. . .pick up the damn phone!!~~~

****

USS Galaxy
Secondary Hull Deck 8
Battle Bridge

Daren closed his eyes, the moment he'd been trying to avoid now here. The tiger had finally turned on him. "Maintain defensive posture, sub-Commander," he snapped before he'd opened them again. "Let's see if we can stop this before it goes any further into someplace we don't want to be. Try and get the fighters to break off their attack."

The Romulan simply nodded once, and then glared down at his console as he hammered orders into it. It had all happened so swiftly - Pennington had announced the Nimitz's fighters had opened fire, and he had missed it.  Battle had been joined instantaneously. Like all fighter-jockeys, they had left a finger on the trigger, and left their brains at home. The White Knights had been spoiling for a fight; well, now they had the fight of their lives. Tr'Khellian's stomach became an icy pit as the grim realization dawned upon him: this was the beginning of the end. He began to charge the phaser cannon.

"Mr. Henderson, keep a close eye on the Quentite ship. They're a soap bubble compared to even those fighters. Keep trying to reestablish contact - I don't want to have to disable them to save them."

"I think you may have to, sir," Henderson replied, frowning, "They're lining up for a drive at the Nimitz, sir.  I don't think they intend to survive.  The mission commander isn't in charge over there anymore.  He's lost control to one of the younger officers, who seems intent on going out in a blaze of glory and doing as much damage as he can, hurting as many people as he can."  They hurt us...  Now we'll hurt them.  Henderson remembered those emotions, being that young and angry.

"Get a solution ready for that, then, Mr. Henderson," Daren regretfully ordered. "This is bad enough without them making it worse. Do not execute without a direct order. "Ms. Pennington, get those transporters warmed up. If it looks like the Quentites are going to be firing off their missiles, you may have to snatch them out of the launch tubes."

Pennington nodded sharply, "Right, got it."  Her hands were poised on the secondary console.  She had suggested the idea.  Now it was hers to execute. "What do you want me to do with them?  Hit Nimitz?"

"Sir," Bartlett called out, cutting off any reply, "Incoming message from Admiral Hoth!"

"Hardly unexpected, Mr. Bartlett," Daren noted. "On screen."

"Daren, stand your fighters down," Hoth ordered the instant the signal went through. "Cease firing."

"I'm working on it," Daren replied. "But I don't think they're listening to us any more."

"The Pershing has powered up her shields," Savar announced from Tactical. "Impulse engine output rising to combat levels." An instant later he added, "The Hood has raised her shields as well. Power readings rising to battle levels.

"What about the Quentites, Mr. Henderson?" Daren snapped, hoping that this could still be salvaged.

"No good.  He won't answer to me, sir.  He's done," the younger officer replied, "Recommend we either use them or disable them."

***

Vanguard 1
Deep Space
Near Quentite Warp Ship

"Vanguard One to Vanguard Squadron. DO NOT shoot to kill. I repeat, shoot to disable. That is a direct order." Rex shouted out as quickly as he could, before the white-hot flash of a detonating mini-photon torpedo, standard armament in Federation fighters, got a little too close to his wingman and took up his attention.

"Two! Watch your six, dammit! Another fucking rookie move like that, and you're going to be atoms, you got me?" Corran practically screamed over the comm, taking his fighter into a sleek dive to avoid getting into a head-to-head with the fighters his threat board showed as White Knights 1 and 2. It had all happened so bloody quickly - emphasis on the bloody. Those stupid punks from the Nimitz' senior fighter squadron had gotten too close, and now it looked like Vanguard 11 was EVA. Rex just couldn't spare the time to find out. He couldn't even tell who'd started shooting first. It didn't really seem to matter but that was the sort of thing the Court-Martial board would want to know.

Provided they lived long enough to attend such a ceremony.

"And stay on my wing, Two." the Trill pilot admonished, leading the younger pilot through a particularly complex pattern of evasive maneuvers. When they finished, they had White Knights One and Two in their sights. With a grimace, he pressed his comm again. "Vanguard One to White Knights One. White Knights One, stand down, dammit! There's no reason for this!"

["Bullshit, Vanguard One. You took one of our pilots out, and we're going to pay you back in kind."] WK1 responded, with a voice full of gravel and menace. The message ended with the squeal of an abruptly closed comm. Corran very much doubted that the elder pilot could be made to see reason, and he reluctantly opened fire on the other fighter's engines. White Knights One deftly avoided the pulse phaser blast.

~Son of a bitch. We had to be flying against a veteran, didn't we?~ the pilot cursed in the recesses of his mind. This time another blinking light - a hail on Galaxy's tactical channel - got his attention. He pressed the comm, certain he knew what was coming.

"Galaxy, this is Vanguard One. I really hope this is important, because we're kind of busy not dying out here." the Trill stated when the comm opened.

"Stand down your squadron," tr'Khellian's voice barked over the speakers. "Repeat: stand down."

"Well, see, I'd love to do that sir. But I've just had a little conversation with White Knights Lead -" Corran broke off as he had to put all his attention into evading another minitorp spread. "Sorry about that, Galaxy. Anyways, White Knights Leader doesn't seem inclined to stop shooting at us. If we stop, we're all dead. I'm more than willing to take an alternative to that."

A brief sigh from the Romulan punctuated a gap between incoming fire. "Lieutenant, this is a direct order from your Captain. STAND DOWN." Ice crystals would have formed on the words if they could have. Did no one in this Starfleet obey any orders at all?

"Sir, you didn't hear his voice. If we power down, they WILL kill us. I can promise you that. This old fool's lived through a few too many battles. I don't think he can stand to give this one up," Corran replied earnestly.

****

USS Galaxy
Secondary Hull Deck 8
Battle Bridge

Tr'Khellian shot an exasperated, furious glare at M'Kantu, his hands twitching on his console with annoyance. "Stand by," he snapped, before cutting the comm. "Vanguard Squadron cannot extricate themselves from battle," he reported.

"We just lost Vanguard Nine," Pennington reported from the secondary tactical console.

The Romulan's head snapped back towards the African CO. "Battle is joined, Captain," he stated imperiously. "We either do, or die."

There was no more time. Even if the fight was an accident neither side wanted, Daren wasn't going to let his men die out there and just sit and watch it happen. He looked back to the main screen at Jurgen Hoth, knowing the admiral had heard the exchange between Rex and the Sub-Commander, and knowing, from the look in Hoth's eye that he also knew what was going to happen now. "I'm sorry, Admiral," Daren said clearly and distinctly. "Unless you can call off the Nimitz's fighters, I can't extricate mine - and if you could, you'd have already done so. I won't stand by and watch those men die."

"Daren, think about what you're doing," Hoth said quietly. "Think about what it means."

"I have, sir." Even the most alien of the listeners could tell there was genuine regret in his voice. "I'm sorry."

"Daren, no, this isn't the way to..." Hoth began.

"Move to defend the fighters, Sub-Commander," Daren snapped out. "Disable the Nimitz's craft if you can, but not at the expense of our men's lives." He turned back to the screen and noted the expressions of horror on the faces of Commander Zalletta and other officers standing behind Hoth on the bridge of the Nimitz. "I doubt this is how either of us wanted to make the history books, Admiral, but it seems that we don't get a choice in the matter. Fight your ships, sir... and may Allah forgive us both."

Hoth opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had to say was lost as Daren turned back to the tactical plot. "Off screen, Mr. Bartlett. Battle Stations, Mr. Henderson. All hands brace for combat. Non-combatants to the escape pods."

"Aye, sir.  All hands securing to battle stations," Henderson said, breathing deeply for a moment considering his options, "Recommend we secure to multiple bridges.  Main bridge just came back online, according to the combat readiness update that's coming in from engineering.  That should give us more options, and I think that once the cannon is knocked offline, separation may be our best bet, as it would allow us more options in the run of multi-ship tactics.  Also, sir, I'm recommending that we cripple the Hood and Pershing fairly quickly, since we're barely a match for the Nimitz on our own."

"Agreed, Sub-Commander." Daren straightened up. Now that his worst nightmare was here, coming true, there was nothing left to fear, the worst thing he could imagine was already upon them. There was only time to do his best for the Federation he'd sworn his life to. "Mr. Henderson, the Battle Bridge is yours. Sub-Commander, you're with me. Get me a crew on the Bridge ASAP, Mr. Henderson." His hand went to his combadge. "Transporter Room, this is the Captain. Beam myself and Sub-Commander tr'Khellian to the Bridge, priority Alpha."

************

USS Galaxy
Deck 8
Battle Bridge

Savar stepped back from tactical and the captain stepped away from his chair, then they both disappeared in the familiar beams of blue sparkling light. Cassius Henderson studied both of their faces momentarily as they dematerialized. M'Kantu looked to be almost at peace with his decision, his eyes momentarily closed as he beamed up to the bridge. He would fight for what he believed, no matter the cost. Savar looked... detached, though behind his eyes, Cassius believed he could see, from his years of intelligence work and people watching, disbelief, anger, and a sense of pained irony, that after being exiled from his home, he was consigned to die fighting in what he probably considered a mutiny.

Henderson frowned, then tapped a few keys in his plot, sending people scurrying to cover the main bridge and cover the backups on the Battle Bridge. "Rima, you're on the arch. Luckily, we're pretty secondary at the moment, though be ready to cover transporters and any shot that Savar might miss. Also, look for options regarding removing the Quentite vessel from the equation. Like the captain said, I'd prefer not to accidentally put the wrong end of a weapon into it."

Pennington frowned, "We're doing this..." Oh, shut up, Rima... You're not getting cold feet now, are you? This is ridiculous. Weren't you the one suggesting blowing them up with a nuke? Who do you think you are, Cass Henderson? "Okay. I'll be on it."

"Steady, Rima Pennington. You'll do fine," Henderson said, "These people are just the same as those pirates in the nebula. You have the mind to help me defeat them. Just concentrate on the moment at hand."

Pennington nodded. "Sure."

"What is the point of going on when all you love is gone?"

Lt. JG Ahdjiia D'Tinya,
Security

The Crysalian officer stood motionless beside one of the shrouded bodies, if it were not for the fact she breathed, she could've been a statue. Her dusky features unreadable.

Ahdjiia had been assisting as need be with breaking into the buried saucer section and had been as startled as the others to see it was a Federation Starship, and then the more disturbing news that the Captain's corpse had been found on the bridge.

She felt numb as she made her way to where her quarters were and once the power was stabilized, she gave her security code and entered her quarters.

Everything fragile was shattered, her icon of Anashwaa had only one of her six arms attached, the other arms and legs were broken. Furry husks littered the ceiling floor and Ahdjiia knelt down, touching each of the exoskeletons in a silent farewell.

Her Little Ones had died without her near to comfort them as Anashwaa took them to work her Great Web, they had starved to death...one of the worst of passings in her eyes.

Blinking back tears of grief, Ahdjiia headed to her bedroom, picking up what webbed mantillas she had and lovingly wrapped each exoskeleton in it's own shroud. She softly spoke the prayers thanking each for having shared their lives with her, having enriched hers by doing so and that she bid them safe journey to the Great Web.

As she left her ruined quarters, she heard about the identification of the other bodies from the bridge.

Hearing about the genetically enhanced one, Ahdjiia felt a coldness to rival the freezing temperatures of space and forced herself topside to see for herself.

She had lifted the shroud of the corpse in question and recognized the withered features. Her hand shook as she replaced the covering and so she just stood, staring at the covered form.

As much as she considered and accepted death as part of the Great Web, rejoicing that the one who had passed was going on to the next stage of the journey....this time she just felt empty. Her Faith that had sustained her through so much could not comfort her.

She wanted to scream, throw herself upon his body wailing her pain...but she was too numb to even move, much less act.

No matter what the others said about him...that he was arrogant...bullish...abrubpt...a first class asshole... She'd seen the softer side that was beneath it all....'

And it was a softer side she would never see again.

Her mind went back to the few private moments they shared and where they once brought a soft smile to her lips, they only reminded her of the void within.

Ahdjiia could only see the loneliness to come for the rest of her long years. There would be new Little Ones, but they wouldn't be the same as the ones who had passed, and no other, male or female could match that soft smile and warm cast to the eyes as he had only for her.

It was tempting to just turn her phaser on herself, stop the pain and speed her way to be with them once again...but that was not the way of the Revered Ones, and as much as her Faith had left her bereft of comfort now...she could not bring herself to do so.

For now she would just accept that she would always be empty and only have the memories of love that had come out of nowhere and swept her off her feet. For now she could only stand over him, and hope he had not suffered as her Little Ones had.

[Backpost]

"The Insomniac"

Lt. JG Dr. Klaus Fienberg

Time: 3 Nights before arrival at Quentin
Location: Dr. Fienberg's Quarters

The Darkness of the room, the shine of the stars through the window, the warmth of a little dog sleeping on the belly.

'Why is this. I lack sleep, yet my performance is mininally affected.'

'Yet it is, I am loosing my touch. Yet I cannot sleep. This mission, A first contact mission.'

'I'm a War Doctor, I've had far and few first contacts. Ever since the Dominion War we have not made much contact with other races, the Paranoia of hawks. Then there was my previous captain on my previous assignment. Savage called himself a Seagull. A Scavenger.Why?'

'No sleep for 3 days......what is my problem. Why do I lack sleep. It seems the Sandman......heh heh heh.....The Sandman.'

'Sheep, worthless. Ren is has been unable to lull me. He is a master at this. Look at him sleeping so peacefully. Little bastard.'

'That Dart from the Trannie named Pat on Risa? No. No drug has such distant after effects.'

'All I have now is my dog, and my silence. The Silence of "Night." HA! Night. merely a change in shift. I should Request a Nightshift position. So few people, so dark, so peaceful. No.....I need people.'

'The thoughts flow like wine. The Box under the bed, the mooching half-brother.......who isn't mooching. He seems to have pulled his life together. Something is different, breaking down, changing. Likely nothing, or he is growing up, but definitely a forshadow for a significant change.'

A Blaring loud alarm sounded.

"Damn, time to Get ready." Dr. Fienberg merely shoved the little dog off of him and proceeded to take his shower and go to work.

Would he sleep again?

The Answer IS yes, but not for long. He would sleep peacefully for the next could of days and through the mission at Quentin, but afterward is uncertain.

[Backpost]

"More Said Than Unsaid"

(Occurs before 'First First Contact')

Primary Characters:
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Major Saladin Bolivar

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Daren checked his list of meetings completed and pending and sighed.

Meeting the senior staff on any new command was always fraught with potential problems. There were potentially bruised egos, fears about the change in command and what it meant for the staffer's departments, personal issues... the list went on and on. The Galaxy hadn't been free from those, but at least he'd not interviewed a senior staffer that needed to be replaced yet - that was never pleasant. He'd only had to do that three times in his career and each time had wished that therews some other option.

The Galaxy posed a whole new set of challenges in that he had never had non-Federation officers to deal with as senior staff before. There were all sorts of issues therethat he needed o watch out for. The next name up on his list was an example: Saladin Bolivar, a Nietzchean - and his Intelligence Chief. He'd had cause to interact with Nietzcheans in the past during the Dominion War and had found them to be powerful allies, if a little hard to get along with. He wondered how Major Bolivar would be in that regard, then shrugged and decided that there was no time like the present to find out.

=/\= M'Kantu to Major Boliver. Report to my Ready Room at your earliest convenience. =/\=

****

Fixing his uniform jacket again Saladin ran his hand along his dark hair then checked one of two weapons he always carried on his person. A knife and a standard issue sidearm.

His uniform was definately not starfleet more militaristic, with a high collar, dark cavalry boots, and a wide black leather belt which had the holster for his sidearm. Like most Nietzcheans he figured this would be another hug and love get to know you session with the captain.

This should be amusing.

****

Daren stood as the signal from the door buzzed. "Enter."

Bolivar was much like his file images had showed him, but no file would do the man - or any of his people justice. The air of superority that they carried themselves with, the sense that they were about to sneer at any instant at their genetic 'inferiors' - nothing would prepare you for that except having seen it before. In a way Daren was glad to see it, since it meant he at least knew what to expect in general.

"Prompt as expected, Major," he nodded curtly, then waited for Bolivar's reply.

"Did you expect anything less captain?" Saladin stood at his usual military attention. "Reporting as ordered Captain. What can I do for you?"

"To begin with, a report on your department and personnel." Daren deliberately kept his voice clipped and military sharp. "Files have all sorts of interesting facts in them, but they tell you nothing but what the men who wrote them thought was important. I want to know what *you* think."

"What I think..." He paused, "I think the department is acceptable; there are several competent officers in my department that do not act like they wish to have a martini shaken not stirred." He relaxed slightly, "the department is efficent, though I would like to be copied on all tactical reports. Allows me to identify potential threats."

It was a reasonable request, nothing more than Daren would have wanted in Bolivar's place. "You should start receiving them no later than tomorrow morning, Major. Is there anything else your department requires?"

He hadn't expected that, raising an eyebrow, he continued, "I would require the authority to make the Intellignce offices entry at my authority only."

A bit unusual, but not considering the fact that it was a Nietzchean making the request. "Regulations allow that, Major. You'll have to accept that I, Legate Curran, and Commander Von Ernst will be exempt from that, and you'll also need to meet with Commander Corgan and establish a protocol for Security to use, but with those exceptions, I don't see a problem granting your request."

Saladin frowned, "Legate Curran is on need to know.... I do not know nor trust him."

"Understood, Major, but the Liaison Corps have given him to us and until he does something to merit recall or they send another Liaison Officer, he's here and you have to work with him. I expect him to get your full cooperation." Daren paused, "That said, however. I don't know how much access to Intelligence he will want. Has he requested access to Intelligence files or reports before now?"

"It is better to be careful. He has not, but if he does I do want to have full control of all access."

Daren pondered for a moment how to phrase his response. "When and if the Legate requests such information as he requires to make informed decisions regarding diplomatic matters, we are required to give him full access to it, Major. Those are iron-clad rules laid down by Starfleet ad the Liaison Corps; I have no control over them. Personal opinions about the Legate are meaningless at that point. Unless he performs some act that would require his position to be suspended pending investigation, he has the ability to demand access and expect that demand to be granted."

Saladin frowned at that, damndable Federation rules, "Well I will of course obey, though I feel they are a severe security risk."

"You objections are duly noted, Major," M'Kantu nodded. "Now, is there anything else you need?"

"I take it random executions to improve morale would be unacceptable?"

Sometimes Daren wished that he was better at interpreting inter-cultural humor - or the lack thereof. "I'm afraid so, Major. BuPers frowns on things like that. They view the loss of personnel dimly unless they're the ones authorizing it."

"A pity really." Saladin said, "If they know they are subject to execution they work faster."

"If you don't have anything else, then I have a few items." Daren waited a second, then continued when Bolivar remaind silent. "To start woth, I'd like a briefing on the intelligence projects you have currently underway. I don't need every little detail, but I want to know their purpose and current status."

Saladin frowned, "Well Captain, intelligence is on a need to know basis, I will prepare a report which will inform you of the number of projects and you will receive that report, what I will not do is reveal details unless you have a clear need to know."

"Understood, Major. I said I didn't need to know all the details. I merely want to know how many projects and what the stated goal is.
'Gather information about the political situation in the Triangle' is a sufficient summary for what I'm looking for in the report." Daren reflected that at least Bolivar wasn't waving a phaser around like the Nietzchean he'd dealt with during the War did when he thought someone was encroaching on his jealously-guarded territory.

Saladin nodded, "I will have to find out what is all being identified by the intelligence staff." And to figure out what the captain needed to know, that was one thing about these humans, you had to manage them properly.

Daren hesitated at the next request he was going to make, then thought of his daughter's face the last time they'd spoken and steeled himself.
"I Also want you to start an intelligence gathering project, Major.

Report only to me with it for the time being - no copies to Starfleet Intelligence unless you turn up something that poses a security risk. I want everything you can find out about raider movements along the Badlands, specifically Anything you turn up about the raider who styles himself 'Captain Kaine.'"

That got an eyebrow raised. The captain had a raider he wanted information on. Was this vendetta reasons, or for other reasons...

He nodded and made notes, "Of course captain, if you would like, a family friend is in charge of the Cheka, I could provide you with a full intelligence briefing and including psychological and psychosexual profiles if you wish."

The Cheka, the Nietzchean intelligence service was in some ways the superior to the Tal Shaiar or Obsidian Order. Their internal security arm was known as the Committee for State Security. Both were feared names.

Daren's thoughts ran to a place he didn't want them to go for a moment, to the place he'd tried to keep them from going since he'd found out about his daughter and the choices she'd made that led to... He realized he was about to do something that, again, wasn't solely for the good of the Federation - and he realized that he didn't care. Not this time. "I would appreciate that, Major," he heard himself say evenly.
"Starfleet Intelligence has an incomplete file on the man after his raid on Tevron VII, and any more information would be highly useful."

"Of course sir, is this a personal reason?" He figured it had to be, Starfleet captains weren't supposed to have grudges. Interesting.

Daren kept his voice even. "My daughter was at Tevron VII." No need to explain further - one look at the report on the incident and a glance at the casualty list and Bolivar would know why he wanted this done. Or think he did.

However like most Nietzcheans he was stepped and bred for conspiracies from birth, a common joke was Nietzchean babies were the ones who would be jockeying for position out of the birth canal. There may have been more there and he filed that away, "I will make the necessary enquiries.
I will keep you informed as to what is discovered." If the captain didn't know it was dependant on internal security that was on him.

"Very good, Major." Daren glanced down at the PADDS on his desk. "I've only got one other item to talk about: the Romulan presence aboard. How comfortable are you with the Romulan Ambassador and our new Assistant Chief of Tactical aboard?"

"Romulans I understand, they conspire and plan to increase the star empire. I can accept that." He frowned, "I will keep an eye on them."
His mind began to go over the plans for the quarters and where he could place listening devices and cameras, "What are the restrictions?"

"No diplomatic incidents, Major. I know you've read the regulations regarding what is and isn't alowed Starfleet Intelligence in situations like this, so I won't bore you with a repetition of them. Be discrete. Be smart. Be creative." Daren decided to forego mentioning that Bolivar was not a member of Starfleet Intelligence. "Do we understand each other?"

"Well Captain... we understand each other perfectly and as I have been reminded several times over several days, I am not Starfleet."

"I'm aware of that Major. In fact, I plan to count on it. Individuals used to dealing with the rules and regulations that Starfleet Intelligence have placed on them will likely count on those same restrictions being in place with you." Daren paused. "While there are certain regulations that need to be maintained whether you are a member of Starfleet Intelligence or not - and you know which ones those are - the fact that you're not necessarily bound by the others is an advantage that needs to be recognized and taken advantage of." He met Bolivar's eyes. "Agreed?"

Bolivar was a hard man to surprise and the captain's sidestep around Starfleet regulations was something that did, my god, that was almost...
Nietzchean... in his thinking...

"Of course sir..." Saladin watched the captain with a new found glimmer of respect; he wasn't a typical Starfleet Kluge... "However, I believe we should speak no more on the topic..." It was to give M'Kantu more deniability if he did have to overstep some rules, but if he was asked he could say he didn't know.

Daren nodded. "That rounds out the items I had to talk about, Major. Is there anything else you've got at the moment?"

"Not at the moment sir."

Daren nodded. "When you do, my door is open, Major. I'll expect the report on ongoing operations tomorrow morning, and updates as operations begin or conclude, but other than that we're done for today."

"Thank you sir." Saladin said with a polite salute.

"The Buck Stops Here"

Starring
Commander Rebecca von Ernst
Ensign Robert Blather (NPC)
Specialist John Menendez (NPC)
Crewman Shelley Dehavilland (NPC)

with small mention of
Lt. Commander James Corgan

(Quentin)

`In the quiet of the Quentin night, the only thing that could be heard was the gentle whisper of the dusty wind, and the soft whirring of a Starfleet Tricorder.

"I'm telling you John," muttered a quiet woman's voice, "if you hadnt screwed up your evaluation with Commander von Ernst last week, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Oh yeah Shell?" came the reply, " I wasn't the one who nearly ran her over in the hall while running for a turbolift."

Crewman Shelley Dehavilland, and Specialist John 'johnny-boy' Menendez shared a private chuckle in the darkness. Sharing gossip and 'ghost-stories' about Starfleet's most infamous redhead was a favorite way to pass the time.

The Quentine night was peaceful and calm, the heat of the day long since faded, and best of all, there was nary an officer in sight. Glancing up to
take in the wondrous view of the stars above, 'Johnny-boy' could almost remember why he enlisted in the first place.

Almost. . . . .

. . . . . . but then the flickering lights of what could only be orbital explosions and blistering exchanges of phaser-fire ruined the illusion of peace.

The battle. . .if that's what it was. . . .had been raging in the heavens above them for nearly an hour now, and it was Menedez's assigned duty to sit outside and record the whole thing for posterity on his tricorder.

It was doubtful that anything useful concerning events in orbit could be established from this distance, but the flashing lights were kinda pretty.
That and he did get to share duty with a pretty girl.

Beside him, the tall, blond-haired Shelley Dehavilland shivered slightly in the cool nights air. She also had her tricorder out and scanning, but her area of investigation was the crumbling ruins that lay strewn about the pair.

The ruins had been the initial site of investigation for the Starfleet Away Team, but with the startling discovery of the shattered Saucer section of the USS Galaxy buried beneath their very feet, all interest had quickly been lost in a few crumbling old buildings.

Except for the fact that Menendez and Dehavilland happened to be on von Ernst's 'shit-list' and as such were forced to remain outdoors and deal with boring duty.

This too was a private joke given the fact that the Redheaded Commander was famously adverse to any form of cussing or cursing, and as such the enlisted ranks of the Galaxy had decided that von Ernst was too prim to have a 'shit-list'. Instead she had a 'Poopie-list', which made the two chuckle again.

"So why were you in such a hurry to get to the elevator anyways?" John 'yawned' struggling to keep his interest up as he scanned.

Dehavilland shrugged and made a few adjustments on her own tricorder, "I wasn't hurrying." she explained, "The little squirt of an XO just seemed to materialize underfoot, and I didn't see her."

"Hmmmmmmm." Menedez nodded distractedly. Recording flashing lights in the sky was less than exhilarating, and he found himself wondering if his partner was having more success with her assignment "So whacha finding out about these old buildings?" he asked yawning again.
"Ancient Ferengi Brothels or something like that?"

"Quit it. . . you're makjing me yawn too." Shelley stifled her own reaction.
"For the most part. . . .nothing. . .just a bunch of old rocks stood up to look pretty. . . . .kinda like Stonehenge."

"What's a Stonehenge?"

"Oh thats right I forgot you were raised on a starship, and are not from Earth. . . .its. . . .well. . . . its another bunch of rocks in Southern England that's where I'm from by the way. Some prehistoric cave-men stacked them up to tell time, or sacrifice virgins or something."

Dehavilland was a bit fuzzy on her history.

"Virgins huh? Maybe we can sic them on Commander von Ernst."

Shelley gave him a playful slap on the arm. The Commanders sexual habits. .
. or the lack thereof was another topic of enlisted personnel conjecture.
"Whatever John . . . I still say she's probably got some millionaire boyfriend stashed away somewhere.

"Yeah in a Safe Deposit vault." John changed the subject back to the ruins, "You said the buildings were uninteresting 'for the most part'. . . . . .?"

She shrugged, "Well like I said, most of it is junk, but that big upside down horseshoe looking thing in the middle is. . . .well. . . .its throwing off some awfully strange signals."

John didnt know what a 'horseshoe' was any more than he knew what a 'stonehenge' was, but he figured Shelley was referring to the weird looking arch in the center of the structures. He leaned forward trying to get a good view of Dehavilland's tricorder. "Tachyons?" he muttered.

"Yup. . . .but thats not all."

Shelley made a few adjustments to her tricorder, and the glowing display altered its readouts.

"chronitons?!!?" John breathed leaning in even closer.

"Yeah. . .and get your snoot out of my tricorder. . . . you're fogging up the display."

Menendez straightened back up, "chroniton. . ." he mused, "Isnt that like. . . . .time particles or something?"

Shelley shrugged. "You tell me 'Specialist' Menendez. I'm just a lowly Crewman, and dont have any training even remotely related to this stuff."

Truth be told, neither did John. . . .his rating was in Shipboard Electrics, but his early life as a child aboard a starship had exposed him to odd events now and then.

"I dunno." he said, "I'm not one of these Academy whiz-bangs either. . . .I just fix things."

"M. . .maybe we oughta call an officer." Shelley wondered. The little Chroniton 'thingies' were really lighting up her display now.

Menendez frowned for a moment, the enlisted man in him resenting any insinuation that an 'officer' was good for anything beyond warming some seat with his/her backside. . . . .and yet. . . . . he had to admit that at least on the raw science side of things, an Academy graduate was miles over his head.

Finally he made a decision and tapped his Comm Badge. . . ."Specialist Menedez to Ensign Blather. Could you come up to the surface for a minute sir?"

******************
Shortly
******************

"There you are sir" John was saying, ". . . .just like we told you. That strange horse-boot thingie is putting out a massive Tachyon and chroniton field."

"Horse-SHOE" Shelley corrected quietly.

Ensign Robert Blather didnt reply, but instead studied his own rather strange Tricorder displays. The enlisted pukes were technically correct, but had been scanning at a very low resolution. Readjusting and using a more refined technique, Blather was able to bring the display into sharper focus.

"Polyphasic Pulsed Tachyons. . . . . .interspersed with minute ripples of Chronometric radiation." he mutterd to himself in amazement.

The two crewmen and the one officer were sanding directly in fornt of the structure in question. It was a great stone arch, perhaps three meters in height seemingly carved from a single asymmetrical rock.

The 'rock' itself was like nothing Blather had ever seen, and did not seem to conform to any known geologic principle. But wa most amazing of all was the actual source of the strange particles.

"Amazing. . . . .Mr. Menendez, Ms. Dehavilland, recalibrate your tricorders to a higher ordinal scanning setting and narrow your resolution to ten picoHertz. . .and tell me what you see."

A few moments pause. . . .

"Whoa. . ."

"Yikes. . . "

"Exactly." Blather remarked. "The two wave fronts are separate. The rock. . .if it is rock. . . .exterior is emitting the pulsed Tachyons, but the Chronitons seem to be emanating out of the archway itself."

Picture if you will a semicircle of stone set upright in the ground, forming a sort of archway beneath it. According to Blather's scans, the stone was emanating Tachyons, while the empty space it encompassed was radiating the Chronitons.

"Is. . .is it dangerous sir?" Shelley Dehavilland asked taking a nervous step backwards.

"No not at all Crewman." Blather reassured her, while continuing to refine his scan. "Still. . . . .I've never seen anything like this. . .or even heard of anything like this at the Academy. I think we ought to inform the Commander."

the two enlisted men exchanged glances as Blather tapped his badge. Their little discovery was rapidly becoming an officer's only project.

"Ensign Robert Blather to Commander von Ernst. . . .could you join me onthe surfae for a moment Ma'am?"

************
Shortly
************

Commander Rebecca von Ernst took one look at the strange stone Horseshoe, and the unusual tricorder readings, and suddenly something went 'ZING' in her memory.

It wasn't something she learned from the Academy. . . . .it was something more recent. . . .something from her Commander's Course. . . . .something related to. . . . .

~~~Lets see. . . .~~~ she thought. . . . ~~~Stone arches. . .Tachyons. . . .Chronitons. . . . strange ruins. . . .~~~

Rebecca sent her thoughts rummaging through her near photographic memory, dredging up a wealth of material from her recent Command School Lectures. . . . . .

Her memories were typically rather cluttered and she had a tendency to be scatterbrained about most things, but when and if she actually did set her mind to remembering something. . . . . .she always did.

The answer popped right into her mind with an almost audible click, and her deep brown eyes actually widened a bit in surprise.

~~~Holy Noodles on a stick. . . . . .This explains everything.~~~

It was no wonder that Blather and the crewmen hadnt recognized the object. It was related to one of Starfleet's most closely guarded secrets for the past 150 years.

The only reason Rebeca knew was because of her position as XO on one of the fleet's most powerful Starships. Captain M'Kantu would have recognized it. . . . so would Major Bolivar definately, and perhaps that creepy Legate person, but nobody else.

Rebecca glanced at James Corgan who stood silently next to her with a quizzical expression on his face. It was obvious he hadn't heard of it either.

"Lieutenant Commander Corgan." she announced loudly and formally, indicating to James that what she was about to say was of the utmost importance. "I want you to secure this archway and the surrounding territory from any and all onlookers. This is a Class 1-A Directive. Use of Deadly Force is
authorized!" she emphasized eyes blazing.

"No one is to approach this object nor tamper with it save under my explicit instructions. I am giving this order as the new Captain of the USS Galaxy due to the 'apparent' death of the previous Captain Daren M'Kantu. "

James Corgan's own eyes narrowed at the formal tones, but he quickly acknowledged and set about forming a perimeter, notching his phaser up to 'kill' in the process. Blather and the Enlisted men were quickly hustled away with orders not to discuss their finding with ANYONE under penalty of law.

Alone, Rebecca turned back to the archway and sighed. "What the noodles. . . is a GUARDIEN OF FOREVER doing on this planet?" she asked herself.

"Worst Fears" Part 2/3

Lt. Jeremy Savoie, Chief Helmsman
Lt. Curtis Geluf, Chief of Operations

"Don't stand there gawking -- let's move!" Jeremy ordered, returing Curtis' concern and already running toward the shuttle.

Curtis snapped out of his illusionary state and followed suite, catching up to Jeremy he glanced behind him. In the distance he could see the hills begining to shed rocks.

By now the tremors were loud even to Jeremy's human ears. Panicked as he was, his greatest concern was for the shuttle. If he or Geluf were swallowed up by this unforgiving ball of dust the other would still have a chance to get to the Opaca; if the shuttle fell into the ground, they were all in serious trouble. Forcing himself to run with every ounce of speed he could muster, Jeremy outpaced Curtis and closed the gap to the shuttle, aiming the remote entry activator at the hatch.

To his horror, it wasn't responding.

"It's not opening!" he shouted to Curtis. As his legs brought him closer to the shuttle, his mind raced just as frantically to figure out what to do. Jeremy
fought not to look back at what was going on behind them as the tremors multiplied both in number and intensity. In desperation, he smacked his com badge. "Computer!" he shouted, "activate emergency transport, beam Lieutenants Geluf and Savoie onboard immediately!" He hoped it would work.

Just as Curtis reached the hatch he vanished in a swirl of atoms and reappeared inside the shuttle. Glancing to his left, he saw that Jeremy, too, had made it in.

"Nice thinking." Curtis offered as he frantically made his way to the front of the shuttle and seated himself next to the navigation chair, at the OPS panel.

Practically leaping into the his seat, Jeremy immediately began stabbing at the console as the ground beneath the shuttle heaved and rocked. In a matter of seconds, the Opaca's engines added to the din of the noise around them and the shuttle lurched forward and into the air.

"I don't know what the hell happened to that hatch activator, but whatever it was we better hope it hasn't affected any of the shuttle's systems too,"
Jeremy said, his concern clearly evident.

Curtis' fingers danced over his console as he checked out the shuttles systems.

"Weapons down, secondary functions aren't operating, which explains the hatch, and shields are sketchy at best." the Kerelian spouted off, continuing his evaluation of the Opaca.

Suddenly, a lurch threw the officers against their consoles.

"Damnit! We're about to lose impulse!" Curtis shouted, "I'm going back there!" and with that he jumped out of his seat and headed towards the engineering panels.

As Curtis rushed to back of the shuttle, Jeremy fought to maintain the shuttle's trajectory. Not only were myriad bits of debris being hurled at them from the seismic events below, the activity seemed to be causing strange magnetic disturbances that threw the shuttle's instruments into chaos. "Some stabilizers would be a good thing," he yelled back to Curtis. For now, he would have to do his best to manually keep the Opaca under control.

Curtis, too busy with his work to even think about answering, was flying from station to station, desperately trying to keep the already strained engines online. He mentally added 'stabilizers' to his list of things to fix in a hurry and ran to the emergency box to grab a tool. As he opened the lid, a sudden lurch sent the whole thing flying, scattering tools all over the floor of the shuttle.

"DAMN!" Curtis shouted, scanning the floor for his target.

Spotting it, he grabbed and ran for the engine panel. Getting the cover off proved to be quite a challenge, as the automatic doors weren't working. But a few seconds later he was in, and not long after that, it was done.

"Engines back to full! Step on it!"

Only too eager to oblige, Jeremy's fingers deftly entered the necessary sequence that sent the Opaca soaring upwards. With an almost continuous stream of commands, the skilled pilot counteracted the buffeting effects of the hasty lift-off. Without the shuttle's automatic stabilizers, this wasn't going to be a joy ride. Wheeling the shuttle around toward where the rest of the away team investigated the ruins, Jeremy hoped the violent tremors he and Curtis experienced hadn't harmed them. "We'll drop off these supplies and then go find the Galaxy," he said, still concentrating on his console.

There was no reply. Indeed, there wasn't any sound comming from behind Savoie at all.

Jeremy was oblivious to the silence. "Any luck with those stabilizers yet?" he asked, still trying to manually compensate for the rough ride.

Again no response.

"Dammit, Geluf! What the hell are you doing back there?" Jeremy shouted after a particularly jarring bit of turbulence rocked the shuttle. His fingers still on the console, he swung his head around to see why he was getting no response.

On the floor, with a wrench in his hand, was Curtis. Sprawled out and sporting a large, bloody gash on his forehead, unconcious.

"Son of a bitch!" Jeremy yelled. "Nice time to go knocking yourself out," he muttered. Though he was concerned for his fellow officer's condition, he knew the shuttle couldn't fly on auto right now. Geluf would have to wait.

Arriving at the other side of the ruins where the rest of the away team was gathered, Jeremy carefully brought the Opaca to the ground a few hundred feet away. No sooner had the shuttle touched down, than he was out of his seat and at the back of the shuttle. Grabbing a med kit from a side compartment, he scanned Curtis' vital signs. "Well at least you're not dead." Firmly grasping Geluf's shoulder, he attempted to rouse the unconscious man. "Wake up Geluf, this is no time to go conking yourself with a wrench," he said, as he passed a small dermal regenerator over the Kerelian's forehead.

Curtis' eyes open with a start and he sprang upward, "Stabilizers! Wait! Console! DAMN!"

He blinked, now aware of his surroundings, and looked up at Jeremy.

"Forget the stabilizers for now. . . we've landed," Savoie replied flatly, returning the med equipment to their pouch. "But as soon as I unload this equipment to Von Ernst, we're gonna need to get going again. We're definitely going to need them then." With that, he stood and mechanically offered Curtis a hand to help him up.

The Kerelian took it, and got to his feet.

"Right. I'll get those up and running while you get the Commander the stuff." he said, holding his head. "Damn this hurts."

"Not nearly as much as crashing a shuttle into this dirt ball will if you don't get those stabilizers working," Jeremy retorted before turning toward the hatch.

Curtis didn't bother to reply. Instead, he slowly began picking up the scattered tools from the shuttle floor and placing them back in the box. After that was done, he set about trying to figure out just how to fix the now badly damaged Opaca.

In the meantime, Jeremy began unloading the equipment Commander Von Ernst had requested. None of it was particularly heavy or difficult to move, and in less than 10 minutes, the job was done. Already knowing his orders, to get the Opaca into orbit to make contact with the unresponsive Galaxy, Savoie returned directly to the shuttle.

"Is this thing ready to fly yet?" he asked Geluf.

Curtis hadn't been wasting his time either, "The stabilizers are back online. We've got full impulse, but warp is out of the question, at least for an hour or so."

"We shouldn't need it. Just so long as we can get this baby into orbit." With that, Jeremy quickly took his seat at his console. "Do you need to do anything before we get underway," he asked as he went through a cursory check of the shuttle's systems.

"No." Curtis replied, "Everything else can wait till we get back to the ship. She's ready to lift off."

"Great, then let's get going." It took only a few more seconds for Jeremy to get the engines online. This time, fortunately, there were no tremors or quakes to mar their ascent and the Opaca gracefully lifted off the planet's surface toward the sky. Although he'd never say it, Savoie had to admit that Geluf had some obvious capability in his field to have the shuttle operating this well so quickly.

"Von Ernst says continued attempts to communicate with the ship have failed. I suggest we begin trying to hail them ourselves immediately."

"Right." Curtis responded, climbing back into his chair and opening the hailing frequencies. "Shuttle Opaca to Galaxy."

The two officers waited silently for a few seconds.

"Lt. Geluf to the Galaxy, are you there?"

No response.

"Bartlett? Captain? Bridge? Anyone?!" Curtis desperately called out.

"Maybe you didn't fix everything after all," Savoie smugly jabbed.

"No, no....they're not even showing up on sensors...." Curtis said.

"Did you screw those up too?" Engineer's error seemed far more likely than the entire ship disappearing.

"I didn't screw up ANYTHING, it's all working fine, they just aren't *there*..." came Curtis' exasperated reply.

Still unconvinced, Jeremy sighed. "Just keep trying to hail them, Geluf. I'm sure they're up there somewhere. Maybe there's something in the atmosphere interfering with the sensors."

"Opaca to Galaxy." Curtis hailed, "Opaca to Galaxy. This is Lt. Geluf to anyone in range, come in."

As Curtis' repeated attempts to raise the ship continued without success, Jeremy could feel his certainty that this was all due to some error or atmospheric phenomenon start to waver. Surely they were high enough now to at least get something?

"Okay, we obviously need to wait 'til we're completely beyond the atmosphere," he said, trying to assuage his own concerns as well as his companion's. "We'll be out of the troposphere in about three minutes. Why don't you double-check that you didn't break anything other than your head when you were back there?"

Curtis grumbled a bit at Jeremy's remark and went to the back of the shuttle. More to take his mind off things than to actually work. He knew he'd fixed it correctly.

Jeremy watch the sky steadily darken and disappear in hopeful expectation. As the shuttle swept up out of the last faint tendril's of the planet's atmosphere, the pilot scanned for any sight of the Galaxy at any moment. What he did see however, was not at all what he expected.

"Shit!" he yelled as he suddenly swerved and the craft lunged out of the path of a large chunk of debris . . . metallic debris. "What the hell was that?"

Curtis was already back in his seat, "Scanning.....", Curtis eyes suddenly widend, "Its....its part of a starship...Federation in design..."

The pit of Jeremy's stomach felt like it was going to drop right out of him. "That can't be right," he insisted. As he looked ahead, he could see more debris ahead. "Scan those fragments up ahead. What are they?"

The Kerelian continued scanning, "Starship parts.....all of it......"

"I'm bringing us to a stop up ahead, near that larger cluster of stuff. God, if I ever wished for someone to be wrong . . . ." Jeremy's thoughts immediately went to Erin.

Curtis followed suit, thinking immidiately of Kiora, and suddenly becomming very nauseated.

"We've got to do a detailed scan of that debris field. Look for anything that can positively identifiy the source of all this . . . and especialy for any signs of life," he said, bringing the shuttle to a stop and starting to do his own scanning.

As he continued to read the grim scan results in front of him, Curtis found himself hoping, praying that it was another ship. 'Don't let it be the Galaxy' he thought. "Let it be some frigate or something'. But he knew it was hopeless, who else COULD it be?

"There are bodies," Savoie said gravely. His scan had turned up the unmistakable signs of human remains. "Many of them." He tried to keep himself focused to prevent his emotions from getting in the way. Futilely, he tried to hope this was all just a horrible coincidence.

"At....at least a hundred....impossible to tell...." Curtis stuttered a bit, a little less successful at keeping his emotions in check.

"We've got to get back to the surface, report this to Von Ernst," Jeremy declared, wanting to get away from this mess immediately.

Snapping out of his emotional state, Curtis replied, "Right. Let's get the hell out of here."

Engines re-engaged, the Opaca turned back from the scattered remains of the Galaxy and headed into the atmosphere once more. Jeremy said nothing, choosing to focus on piloting the ship as a way to put his thoughts as far as the shuttle from what they had seen.....

"Ever Vigilant"

By
Dru Ekata (Writer of Dhanishta Eshe)

The Watcher sat amidst the scarce brush on the top of the hill, motionless, silent.

Its hollow, empty eyes the only part of its body that moved; scanning the landscape, watching the visitors intensely.

For hours it waited, sitting out the quakes without a single sign of fear as the ferocity of the quakes increased. It watched with mild amusement as the visitors craft was half eaten by the barren earth, as if the earth did not like the taste but was reluctant to spit it out. If it took another bite perhaps it would get the taste for it! The watcher mused.

From the distance the visitors all looked like insects crawling about in a daze. Deep within the watcher a low growl rumbled, it mixed with the sounds of the tremors. Thinking of the visitors in such a manner had made the Watcher aware once again of the lack of food. Carefully it upturned a near by stone with its bare foot, exposing a cluster of beetles like insects.

With one scoop it picked them all up, grains of sand and dirt included, and stuffed them into its mouth. Blackened, rotting teeth crunched quietly upon the small morsels.

And still the Watcher sat.

Staring.

Watching.

Waiting.

Silently.

Still.

Until at last a long spindly finger extended from beneath its ragged dirt lined clothes. And began to draw in the sandy dirt ground; lines, circles and dots. Mapping out the tracks and locations of the visitors below it...

"The last boy scout part 1"
by Turan Trelar
16 year old Quentite

Time: About 30 years ago, soon after the Galaxy crashed to Quentin

Turan woke up in almost total darkness. The only light came from his torch which was obviously fading away. He must have been unconscious for at least three hours. The blood coating his forehead was already dried.

Turan grabbed his torch and looked around. He remembered he entered a cavern to hide the 'trophy' for the track reading contest scheduled to start the next morning. Then there had been a kind of explosion outside, parts of the caverns ceiling collapsed. He must have been hit unconscious by one of the rocks fallen down on him. Now the caverns entrance was blocked - how far? He didn't know.

Turan tried to get up. His left leg was aching but to his relief he was able to move his foot and even place weight on it. Thank god no bone was broken. And there seemed to be no extensive bleeding. So the first problem he had to cope with was his fading torch. Loosing sight inside an -even familiar- cavern certainly would be the end.

"Think!", Turan encouraged himself. There was neither a candle in his backpack nor a lighter so the only option left was to find a replacement for the torch's almost empty energy cells. Again, he searched his backpack. All he found was his water bottle, a hand full of Malo-fruits and -of course- the trophy, a small badge made of shiny copper.

His belt's buckle was made of zinc, wasn't it?

Turan opened the buckle, cut the belt away with his boy scout knife and broke it with a piece of rock. He stuck a piece of its buckle to one of the Malo-fruits and about two fingers away, the badge found its place in the sour flesh of the fruit.

Now the dangerous part began. Touran took a last deep breath. After tearing the bulbs wires off the torch there wasn't any chance to bring it back to life. He opened the cover, teared the wires, bit away the isolation and wrapped one around each of his Malo-batteries metal parts.

Again the cavern was illuminated by the pale light of the torch. Turan gained at least an other hour - with god's help sufficient time to be found by a rescue team or even enough to dig a way out.

"The Last Boy Scout Part 2"
by Turan Trelar
16 year old boy

*about 6 weeks after the catastrophe*

Turan switched the pad on started dictating ...

Outside, a sand storm is wailing. Every day proves my decision right to move houses and claim this cavern my home. I think I'll use the time until the weather calms down to have a closer look at the gadgets I salvaged from the flying saucer which caused the catastrophe. Till know my attempts to find out their purpose was not very successful.

The long objects which look like rifles proved worthless. All I was able to elicit from them was a beep. Nevertheless their energy cells may be useful later.

The smallest object which looks like a remote control seems to be something like an energy weapon - I found out by almost shooting me in my foot. I have to be much much much more careful.

The object which looked like a communicator first is still enigmatic to me, too. When I dictate or talked to myself it instantly awoke to speak in an alien language, obviously that's the language spoken by the saucer's crew. First I expected to listen to an alien rescue team but after a while I realized that a sentence repeatedly spoken always caused the same answer. I'm quite sure it's something like a translator. To check let's see if there's a pattern in the object's reaction. Maybe I'm able to learn a little bit of the aliens' language, too."

920