"Shootout at the Quentite Corral, Part 1"

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
Captain Soorvak
Commander John Zalletta
Lt. (JG) Cameron Bartlett
Ensign Rima Pennington
Second Lieutenant Angelienia
Second Lieutenant Kell Tainer

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Bridge

****

USS Nimitz
Deck 1
Bridge

"Shootout at the Quentite Corral, Part 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
Captain Soorvak
Commander John Zalletta
Lt. (JG) Cameron Bartlett
Ensign Rima Pennington
Second Lieutenant Angelienia
Second Lieutenant Kell Tainer

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Bridge

"I'll give Hoth, this," Daren observed. "He's determined to avoid a bigger shooting match." He checked the big screen again. "Keep the firing solution on the Nimitz constantly updated Sub-Commander, but no firing until I give the word."

"Captain, I strongly recommend not using established Federation tactics. They will be anticipating pre-programmed Starfleet maneuvers. We must launch unexpected strikes." The irritation that the Captain was disregarding the considered advice he had provided in his earlier report was creeping into his voice. Rather than hanging fire and sitting on their hands whilst the fighter wings tore each other to pieces, his plan could have had the Pershing crippled by now, and the Hood well on the way to the scrap yard.

"Recommendation noted, Sub-Commander - and agreed with. Ms. Pennington, I need an update on the Quentites." Daren's eyes never left the big screen. "How much time do we have?"

"Less than a minute... Uhm," she said, "Recalculating... ETA 0.41 seconds. We're running out of time," Rima replied, sparing a glance up at Cassius, who was deep in thought over his console.

Henderson noticed it and filed the moment for another time. He had other worries than what one of his ensigns was thinking. It seemed they were at an impasse... Hoth would not escalate. But neither would he back down. He had reigned in Soorvak and Escalante, and DeSoto was no fool. So what now. Would they dance around each other until the fighters and the Quentites were all dead? What would be the catalyst that would cause the moment to explode, or the soothing moment that would cause them all to back down and go home alive?

"Captain," Savar warned, urgently, "I'm reading movement from USS Hood. They have shifted into red alert, powering up weapons systems." He ran his hands across the console and glanced up. "They're coming about - their hangar bays are opening."

*****

Vanguard 1 & 2
Near-Quentin Space

Kell Tainer's curse came loudly over the speakers. "Dammit it all!" the young pilot said, swerving his fighter around an array of miniature torpedoes fired by White Knights Nine. "Leader, Two. Check out the Hood." he said grimly.

Corran checked his scanners, and was dismayed by what he saw. The Excelsior-Class starship had opened her fighter bay, and a squadron of the small Tomcat-Class starfighters were peeling out. Small and deadly, the fighters had a reputation among pilots for being flying guns.

And judging by the direction their weapons and sensors were pointing, they didn't seem to be friendly. Rex slapped the comm one last time. ["Vanguard One to Galaxy. Reinforcement fighters coming from the Hood. Their weapons are trained on us. If you don't - or can't - come in and help us, we're dead, Captain."]

****

USS Nimitz
Deck 1
Bridge

"The Hood is DOING WHAT!!??!"

The USS Nimitz's Science officer, Mr. Motto shrugged helplessly and gestured at his display, "Its like I said Admiral, She just launched her fighters... the whole squadron"

Admiral Jurgen Hoth grimaced and squeezed a painful point on the bridge of his nose. What in the name of Kirk's ripped Tunics was this fleet coming to? Did he, or did he not possess full legal command of this situation? Why the hell did everybody suddenly decide it was 'the heck with chain of command-day?'

~~~It'll be a quick assignment.~~~ they had promised him. ~~~Take over the Nimitz Battlegroup and go and relieve Captain M'Kantu of command for gross incompetence.~~~ ~~~Me?~~ he had asked. ~~~Why me? I haven't commanded a fleet in 12 years. I have duties back at the Tactical Command, and the 359 School.~~~

~~~Forget about it~~~ they had replied, ~~~You're the closest flag-level officer in the area, and we need this taken care of quickly. We need M'Kantu out of there.~~~

~~~Then why the HELL did you put him IN THERE to begin with!??!~~~ Hoth had argued back. Sometimes the silliness of BuPers was beyond belief.

"Admiral Hoth?" the calm voice of the Vulcan Captain Soorvak broke Hoth's thoughts, and brought him back to the present. "Sir, I calculate a 82.7% chance of the situation escalating if the Hood's fighters enter the fray. Should we use our own to screen them out?"

Hoth narrowed his eye studying the glowing tactical display closely. "Screw the fighters." he spat, "Starfleet shouldn't be wasting credits on the silly things anyways, nothing but a bunch of quick moving targets anyhow." Hoth moved down from the aft science console and moved before the giant holographic viewscreen. "No, Captain, I want you to continue to utilize our tractors in an effort to extricate our own fighters since they are not obeying orders anyhow. Instead I want to move Nimitz to intercept the Hood's Vector of attack, and interpose us between the Galaxy, and DeSoto. "

Soorvak raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Fascinating maneuver Admiral. I'm sure you have considered the possibility of what will happen if the Hood does not back down?"

Hoth sighed, "Hell, Captain, today it seems like everybody is going crazy. If that happens, I'll be in my cabin taking a nap until it's all over with. If Daren is so gung-ho about taking the Galaxy renegade against Starfleet orders, then what can we do?"

"We could destroy the Galaxy." The Vulcan said logically.

"Yes... there's always that."

****

Outside the sleek grey form of the USS Nimitz seemed to suddenly veer off at a 90 degree angle and roll out on a new course that brought her directly parallel to the approaching Hood.

All attempts to warn off Captain DeSoto went unanswered, and it seemed as if Hoth's prediction of a cat-fight was soon to be in the offering. Multiple green-tractor beams lanced out of Nimitz's belly streaking across the vacuum to ensnare no less than eight of her recalcitrant fighters in one fell swoop. The tiny craft were no match for the limitless power of Starfleet's most advanced vessel.

A similar beam stabbed out from the dorsal emitter, and attempted to slow the approaching Hood which was closely following her own fighter screen. This proved to be a more difficult maneuver. The Hood had already built up a full head of steam, and her sheer mass was proving difficult for the single beam to slow. Unfortunately it also made it difficult for the Hood to swerve out of the way.

****

Soorvak watched the tactical display. Nimitz was now on her side lying directly between the Galaxy, the fighters, and the Hood. An energy web of tractor beams linked the latter three together, but it looked as if it was not going to be enough.

~~~Fascinating. . .~~~ the Captain thought. ~~~The Admiral has placed us in precisely the one spot that will leave no way for the hood to slip past us. DIRECTLY in its path.~~~ The Vulcan glanced over to his left where the Admiral, looking rather sick, leaned against a rail. "Admiral. . .?"

"Yes Captain... I knew one beam wouldn't slow them - but it will force them to stop."

"By striking us instead?" Soorvak was typically unemotional, but nevertheless shocked.

"Yup. Some days, when everybody starts disobeying orders, you gotta jump in the pit and show them whose boss."

"Fascinating."

****

Desperately attempting to swerve, but unable to because of the tractor holding it in place, the USS Hood struck the Nimitz just Starboard of the saucer midline.

The force of the blow put the Nimitz into a nauseating spin, which as a result flung the fighters it held in its ventral tractors across space, scattering them to the four corners.

Hood's bow buckled impressively, and its aft end flipped end for end, sending the hundred year old starship tumbling through space.

Unfortunately the Hood's left nacelle broke loose form its mountings, and lanced forward like some 300 meter long javelin, aimed directly at the heart of the Galaxy.

When it struck, M'Kantu would have no excuse but to enter the fray. It seemed despite his efforts, Hoth's desperate maneuver would fail.

"The Plot Thickens"

By
Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer
USS Galaxy

As Jacen droned on, Kylar thoughts were a-flurry. So many events had transpired to bring him to this point, the absorption of it all was too much.

"... wait, wait, wait!" Curran waved his hands about, pushing his forehead into them at the end, as if he could compact the information and sort it out.

Jacen acquiesced and smiled that stupid grin of his. His face was still in shadow, but the Kelvan's eyes had focused long ago.

"You still haven't told me who you are and why we are here. I know all about the First Contact mission, but the planet surface obliterated? How do you honestly expect me to believe that? And turn on the lights!"

Jacen brought a finger up to his cloaked head. Kylar could almost hear him thinking.

"Computer. Raise the lights 40%." Curran didn't register the fact of being on board something familiar with that phrase, for it was lost in the mists of his mind when the alcove was illuminated.

The walls were... squirming. Like skin pruning after being in water too long. It revolted Kylar, causing him to draw back. He risked a furtive glance at Jacen, and wished he hadn't.

His skin was mottled pink, scarred, and missing an eye. Half his face was burned and wrecked beyond recognition.

Yet, the saviour grinned and tapped his beard.

"They say I should wear a faceplate to disguise this hideousness. I find it works in my favor if I don't, as I'm sure you are experiencing now, my dear Kelvan."

"Plasma burns. But that still does not answer who and what you are and what you plan to do with us."

"You are correct on all counts, Mr. Curran." Jacen limped up onto the edge of the cot. The walls had stopped moving about, but their green leathery mosaic remained. The great brute Kevalos could be heard grunting beyond.

"There is no need to know how I received these. I, like Kevalos, share a history with you in regards to that, but that is something you need not know."

"I don't know you. I've never met you. I would remember you." Curran's eyes drew wide as Kevalos trundled by out beyond, carrying Dallas' hoverchair. The talons were as green as the walls, huge curved claws/nails, and most shocking was when he turned to stare at Curran. Three eyestalks, all dancing around, glared threateningly at him. A gaping maw, lined with sharp teeth, clacked at him from his snout.

"And I would sure as hell remember him." Jacen turned to see what Kylar was talking about.

"Oh, that would be Kevalos, as you've met before. My Chief Tactical Officer. Do you recognize his species?" Kevalos hissed and moved on, grumbling.

"He seems familiar to me..."

"Hydran."

"Hydran? Now, I'm truly confused. WHERE AM I?"

"Somehow, Mr. Curran, I think you are going to have a tough 'time' believing it."

Curran crinkled a brow at Jacen's emphasis on the word, Time.

"Try me. I'm already stuck in a strange ship, with a huge lizard as a tactical officer, surrounded by living walls, being told the planet I beamed to is dead. I think I can deal with anything."

"I'll ask again after I've related the tale to you, Mr. Curran, then we'll see."

"NO MORE WIRE HANGERS EVER!!!"

NRPG: A little character Development. Time for Klaus to deal with a family member with a mental illness. As for the title, it's not in the post, I couldn't think of a name so I borrowed from Mommy Dearest.

Erik Stiener, Shopowner (Stiener's Inventions & Novelties)

Location: Stiener's Shop

The Galaxy was in the heat of Battle, and Stiener was in his shop balled up on the floor. His bad arm off to the side and his knees held in front of him by his good arm. His teeth were clenched and his mouth open. His eyes wide, frightened.

He stood up, slouched forward. Limp, yet rigid. Erik walked out of the shop, and out into the promenade. Straight from the Promenade into the halls of the ship. Straight into a Turbolift.

-Within the Mind of Erik Stiener, He never actually speaks when within the Turbolift.-

"Bridge."

"Denied. The Bridge is off limits to Civilians at this time."

"Armory."

"Denied."

"Sickbay."

"Denied."

"Open the Doors."

The Doors open revealing a bizarre sight. Curtains, curtains often seen on the stage of a theatrical performance. The Curtains opened, and he could see 2 starfleet officers speaking on a stage set made to look like a hall within the Galaxy. They spoke to each other in odd over the top Theater voices. He could not make out the convorsation. He walked out onto the stage, like an actor that had suddenly forgotten his part.

"Uh....This isn't happening." The other two actors looked at Stiener with cold eyes, All they could say is "Forgotten your lines again?"

Erik backed up in horror. He looked out into the crowd, who began to Boo. Several more actors appeared on the stage, all in over the top voices.
"All of you! No control over your actions! JUST ACTORS ON A STAGE! NO TRUE PURPOSE! THIS WORLD ISN'T REAL!!"

Stiener tripped slightly and fell on his ass.

Back in the real world Stiener sat staring with scared crazy eyes at several starfleet officers and crewmen that came to his aid. He was sitting on the floor outside of the Turbolift.

"Temporal Difficulties"

Lt. Commander Adrian An'quinsos
Acting Chief Counselor
USS Galaxy

With Ensign Tak'a Ame (NPC- Written wonderfully by Ian)
Security Officer
USS Galaxy

And Random NPC Guard

*** The Planet Quentin ***

After uttering his foreboding words, the Counselor had sunk to his knees, as though he was entering a trance like state. Wide-eyed, his bright, blue eyes remained fixed upon the Galaxy's hull, unblinking as he remained still. The temporal energy aligning the hull eddies and whorled as it moved through and around Adrian in near-fixed spurts. However, he almost felt something else nearby, another source of energy, even more distinct, and possibly more powerful than the source was. Finally, he closed his eyes slowly stood up, and began to gaze around him, looking for something unseen to the average eyes.

Carefully scanning the barren landscape, Ensign Tak'a Ame, reflected on how much this land bore the scars of her own planet. The likenesses were scary. Burned away vegetation, no signs of life, craters of years past, and devastated mountainous terrain. The rocks and boulders scattered about brought back visions of whole populated areas reduced to rubble from rained down hellfire from the heavens. She cradled her phase rifle, hoping not to have to use it.

The Bajoran Security Officer had been assigned to 'Commander An'quinsos side as protection while they surveyed the wreck of the Galaxy now resting on the planets surface. As she watched him, she saw his eyes glaze over, and a somber expression draw over his features. "Are you alright, sir?"

"I feel... something..." He trailed off, still carefully gazing around. His voice carried the tone of a loud, curious whisper. "When we first arrived, I immediately felt something... time, distorting and contorting all around me. Then, when we found these remains, I felt another something, that of time reflecting over things now past. Now... now I feel something different, more distinct in form..."

She'd heard tales of El-Aurian 'powers' concerning feeling time currents, but had never been privy to it first-hand. It was disturbing. "What is it you feel, sir? Are there enemy forces in the area?" She checked the power levels in her rifle. She'd barely survived the Hirogen gaming fest two years ago. She wasn't about to die on this prophets-forsaken world so far from home.

He looked over at her, giving her an assuring smile, as he spoke in the clearest of voices. "You need not worry Ensign, there are no enemy forces converging on us at this time." His smile vanished, giving way to contemplation. "This time, I feel time, times future and times past contained in times present... all held by someone or something."

"Do you have Prophets, 'Commander?"

He deep, flickering gaze turned slowly from the horizon to her. "Prophets?"

"Yes. Gods. Religion. A Supreme Being or beings. The Prophets of Bajor watch over all of my people, and come to a special few to speak with them. Sometimes their words are delivered in different ways. Dreams, spoken word... feeling."

*Our* religion lay centered around the concepts of Time and the Sun. To the latter, a beautiful Temple lay in the east, in the silver-sanded Sea of the Sun's Birth, most beautiful to hear when dawn's first kiss touches it. A melody never repeated twice... or ever will be..."

"Sounds like when the Prophets first appeared to us when the wormhole opened. Are your concepts more clear on what it is you mean? Because forgive me for saying this, but they are quite stating the obvious. We just left the ship, and here it is old and decrepit on this hellworld. I think we all know time is involved."

He looked at her gazed at her silently for a moment, and then issued a smile, the first shown since landing on the planet. He looked back at the Galaxy remains, and contemplated thoughtfully. Further examinations seen and unseen, revealed all they could. Yet, it wasn't enough, and it certainly wasn't getting them anywhere.

"Excellent point Ensign," He said, keeping his smile then asked. "Where has the Commander run off too?"

"On last check-in, she had gone into the wreck. Did you want to go find her? I've no problem with it." She shivered. "We need thermals soon. It's getting chilly out here."

"Yes, yes we will... but first, we're about to play a game, a very serious game. Are you up for that Ensign?"

Tak'a cocked a brow, suspicious. "What do you mean... serious?"

"Serious, as in we're about to find the source of this distinct disturbance. I'm about to play Humanoid Tricorder Ensign, and I ask you, to follow my lead," He looked back at her and grinned. "Just don't press too many buttons."

"Umm... okay, sir. But if I see any danger in what you do, I'll have to pull security prerogative and ask you to cease and desist. Sir." She released the safety latch of the rifle, and tightened her grip on it. "Lead the way, 'Commander."

The senior officer nodded, closing his eyes in concentration to *reach out* to the third, defined disturbance. Feeling within the moment, he began walking, veering sharply to the left. He carved a path around the wreckage, directing himself as the temporal variance shifted into the air around him. His movements were smooth, flowing as they left the wreckage and proceeded swiftly away from it. Passing a hill, their journey began to angle sharply to the right, back to the left, and then stayed as in its present sate.

Clearing the area, they arrived at the coastline, where Adrian began to slow down, until finally he stopped, and slowly shook his head, returning from his trance-like state. Adrian stood beside a rock formation gazing in the distance at an object that stood out like a beacon in the blackest of nights- at least to his eyes. His higher senses could feel the *elements* of time pulsating outward in a rhythmic fashion. His eyes narrowed as he brought the image into focus. It was horseshoe in design and...

His eyes widened slightly in thought.

Very familiar.

"This pile of rocks? This is nothing but a bunch of ruins. I don't feel anything...." Then it passed through her. A ripple, shaking her to the core. An invisible wall that shimmered in front of her for one quick moment. So fleeting it could have been a trick to the eye. "What was that...?"

"A field of energy projected from the Eye itself... a temporal-" He stopped abruptly and glanced behind and above them. His Temporal Sense had shifted into Temporal Perception, catching a glimpse of a convergence on their position. "It's alright Ensign, we're just expecting company. Our side and they don't look too friendly..."

She cocked her rifle. "Where? I don't see them." Nothing on her rifle scanner either. "I'm not getting any life forms on my scanner, sir. I think your senses are off." All this talk of riddles. If you can't see it, how can it hurt you?

"Some things can happen right in front of your eyes if you catch then quick enough."

"Don't move." A voice said sharply behind them. "Hands where I can see them."

"No need for such... blatant displays of violence," He turned slowly around, catching the rank off his collar. "Ensign. Now, if you would politely escort us to your leader?"

"Ensign, lower your weapon. We're on your side." The Bajoran security officer raised her phaser rifle in the air with one hand, the other bare and opposite.

Watching the motion, Adrian looked at him and caught a glimpse of his eyes. Deep, blue fire connected with glassy emerald as the El-Aurian began to speak.

"They say our lives our interconnected in some way throughout this great journey that life has laid out before us, and of course, time." His words grew for lucid, ominous as he continued speaking. "Time is a stranger and a guide, walking with us form the moment of conception, until our journey has ended. We find... so many things vanish away soon after: young faces change, old faces vanish, and before we've had the chance to tell them goodbye..." He peered closer into his eyes, the Ensign almost afraid to move. "As we speak Ensign, my time is running its course, trickling out... perhaps gone at any moment. I trust you know what I mean?"

The Ensign's lower jaw trembled as he stared into the endless depths of the El-Aurian's eyes. His voice held a hypnotic tone to it, keeping him on edge as he spoke. He slowly, but nervously nodded, lowered his rifle, and slowly nodded, leading the way towards a camp of some sort to find the person in charge.

[Heinous Backpost]

"826 - Confrontations, Part 1 of 4"

[Occurs immediately after the events of "The Price You Pay"]

Principal Characters:
Victor Demonsson
Grey the Thief
Curtis the Minstrel
Erik the Thief
Klaus the Getaway Driver
8Ball the Mercenary
Cassius Henderson and Co
Friar Lysander
Kylar Curran

Secondary Characters:
Earl Jeremy Flitt
Sir Daro Cole
Leo Streely, Ducal Pig Boy and Delusional Emperor
Others TBA

****

Galaxia
Curtis Geluf's Cottage
Dawn

Curtis looked out into the field and was surprised to see the dark shadow looming there in the faint dawn light. He watched the stranger stalk across the grass and waited until he disappeared from sight before moving to gather the last of the supplies. He let out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding.

It would probably be best not to tell Poppet about the dark stranger. The young woman was brave but he could tell she was apprehensive about returning to the castle. But then again, they were leaving Harper in this valley. Poppet would want to know about any danger to her child.

He packed away their clothes while he waited for Poppet to return from Indigo Renkert's, where she had left her baby. Curtis smiled absently at the dress again that he had managed to find for her. It was a shade of blue that fit her perfectly, deep, striking... mournful.

Mournful. That's how she looked, Curtis decided as he watched her come into view. She was trying her best not to cry but he realized how painful it had been to give her child to another woman. Poppet stopped before him and looked at their supplies.

"Are we ready?" Grey asked.

"Yes," Curtis answered. He hesitated only slightly before adding "I don't want to alarm you but I think there are soldiers around. I saw one nearly two hours ago and he was the scariest man I'd ever seen." He ducked his head slightly at her eyebrow raise. "Honestly, Poppet. I thought at first that he must have come from the shadows."

The young woman froze. Curtis watched as the color left her face. "A... a dark man?" she managed.

Curtis nodded and Grey cried out. She moved to grab her things and then ushered him quickly to take his. "Which way?" She demanded.

"Our way." Curtis answered. He hurried to follow Poppet as she started to run in the direction of the castle. "Poppet," He huffed. "Who is it?"

"My husband." She called back.

****

Meadow near the Kling Siege Lines
Galaxia
Just after dawn

The insect was beautiful, a shimmering jewel of emerald green against the withered and dried vegetation of the once-mighty forest. It sat insouciantly perched on the tip of a bare leaf, preening itself.

It never saw the Hunter coming for it.

With practiced grace, the Hunter's main food-catching appendage unfurled itself and hung quivering in the air above the insect. Stealthily, it inched closer, rapacious talons spread wide over the prey which didn't notice the shadow falling across it. Then, in a lightning move, the Hunter struck without mercy, without care. The main prey-gathering appendage snatched the insect, to be deposited into the gaping maw of the Hunter, already drooling in fiendish glee at its' succulent bounty.

Friar Lysander let out a satisfied belch and wiped his hand on the patched and frayed grey habit he wore habitually. One blue-green eye rolled wildly of its own accord under the thatch of unkempt grayish-white hair, dotted liberally with matted leaves, twigs and other detritus.

"Thank you, Lord God for thy Bounty. Rather smegging nice and all." he intoned piously, wiping his hand yet again in his long white beard and fiddling with a twig he found entangled there, for a moment.

"Bounty? What bounty? You got bounty and nothing for me? That sucks! Who's writing this thing? STRIKE! I'm still on strike! No bounty, no Leo!" the friar's traveling companion shouted, waving a pudgy fist in the air.

"Good sir Leo, pray the be silent!" hissed the Friar, his one good eye scrunched tight in fear as he peered around the forest glade. "I pray thee, the Kling barbarians will hear thee and ..."

"Kling? I got your Kling right here! In my undies! Errr.. that is.. if I wore undies. Although I think this 'thong' thing may catch on any day now." muttered Leo Streely, as he shouldered his pack onto his fat shoulders and wiped sweat from his bald crown.

"Jest thee not, the Kling heathens are unmerciful! I pray they not catch us" the mad friar giggled insanely to himself, as the left side of his face conveyed extreme terror, while the right seemed to be giggling to itself.

"Yeah? Why? What can they do to me, take away my Empire and make me a PIG BOY?" screamed Leo, his wheezy voice echoing off the silent trees.

"No. They can break your bones and sup on the marrow." was the reply.

"Big whoop, can they do this? Err.. waiddaminute... this...dang..no wait.... this?" Leo demanded, trying to make it appear he could remove his thumb at will. Needless to say, Leo failed.

"They can grind you beneath their boot heels into dust, rip out your organs and devour them raw, flay you alive and make you dance without your skin." was the reply.

"Yeah, okay, got it. Not guys to party with. Can they pick up women? Hot women? I tell you, I haven't seen a woman for years, since I left Old Duke Bhrode's pigsty and set off on my own as a wandering Pig Boy for hire." Leo nattered.

"Kling warriors would pull out your eyes and feed them to their pet Targs." was his reply.

"Yeah, yeah, got it. You think anyone wants to hire a Pig Boy around here? It don't look like these yokels have a lot of pigs need tending." Leo muttered.

"Kling warriors would slit your ears and nose and parade virgins past you to scream at your horrid condition, until you died of shame." the reply continued.

"Yeah right, whadda waste of virgins. That all they got?" Leo crowed.

"No. They would cut off your fingers and feed them to you." the reply continued.

"Fingers! Sounds sort of.. you know.... to me!" Leo muttered, waving one pudgy hand in a foppish manner.

"And they would cut off your toes and feed those you too and then burn you alive," the reply continued.

Leo stifled an elaborate yawn.

"And they'd un-man you." the reply added, almost as an afterthought.

"WHAT?" screamed Leo, his voice ringing off the trees.

"Un-man you. Emasculate you. De-sex you. Do a 'Bobbit' on your 'Man Root.' Cut off your..." the reply continued.

"GET OUT OF HERE! They'd do that? Ewwww....!" Leo danced around the clearing, twisting his knees to try and protect his seldom used 'manhood.'

"Hey, how does a priest know about stuff like that anyways? I mean, you know, you told me you'd been sent to Kling for the last twenty years, to convert them. And all that stuff about some Princess.. but how do you know all about Kling warriors?" Leo demanded of his companion.

"Simple. We converted the priest. I am a Kling Warrior." was the reply.

Leo turned and stared. There, with the rusty armor and cruelly pointed swords that were a racial trademark, stood a group of Kling Warriors surrounding the Friar.

Visions of half naked Indians flexing mighty thews flitted through Leo's mind, followed by visions of Leo seducing women all over the universe. So then, Leo did what Leo usually does when confronted with danger.

"Did he wet himself before he fainted?" one Kling Warrior asked Friar Lysander.

Victor frowned, watching from the trees as the four Kling surrounded the two men. The priest he recognized by his clothes and from seeing him wander through the woods, but the second man was unknown to him. Victor thought the priest crazy for trusting to man's mercy and carrying no weapon - man had no mercy - but against four Kling he doubted a weapon would have made any difference even had the priest carried it.

He briefly considered simply bypassing the priest and letting his gods look out for him, but discarded it as he watched the Kling kick the smaller man and laugh at his cries. No, he would not go around. He was done hiding, done running, done dealing with the Kling in any way other than the one he knew the best. He'd let the demon out, and couldn't put him back... and if there would be hell to pay, then let the Kling be the ones who got the bill.

He circled slowly, keeping the trees between the Kling and himself, letting the darkness and his black clothing hide him as he moved closer and closer, the smile on his face slowly widening in anticipation of what was about to occur. The Kling would die, and he would move on - and if the priest lived, then maybe there was more power to the gods than Victor believed.

As the laughing circle of Kling warriors enjoyed the small man's discomfort, Victor rose up out of the darkness behind the closest warrior - the one with a sword to the priest - grasped the back of his head and his chin, and jerked sideways. The Kling went limp with a soft crack from his neck, his eyes suddenly vacant. As the warrior fell, Victor grasped the hilt of the dead man's dagger and let the falling body unsheathe it as the demon inside him roared in satisfaction and it's mad, killer's smile spread across his face.

The second Kling fell as he was turning, the dagger punched into the side of his neck with an upward angle, the light in his eyes winking out before he fell as the first man's had. Victor let the dagger go so the man's turn carried him around in a circle as he fell, the spray of blood missing his killer as it painted a swath across the grass.

The last two warriors got their weapons up as Victor smiled like death and started for them with a slow, deliberate pace that was faster than it appeared. Victor had his hands on the first Kling before the man could cut at him with his sword, The demon's killer's smile never wavered as he pulled the man around in front of him to force the Kling to take his partner's sword thrust in the chest, then caught the just-stabbed man's arm and jammed *his* sword forward to impale the last man in an identical manner.

With a small sound that might have been a laugh, Victor stepped back and let the two Kling stand there for a moment, held aloft by each other's weapons, as he turned to the friar and his companion. He smiled at them, hands flexing slightly, the very picture of Death in fine black leather and silk. "This is not your place, priest," he whispered. "There is no life here, no future - only pain and death." Behind him, the two Kling slowly crumpled in unison and struck the ground with a 'thud' to punctuate his statement.

[Heinous Backpost]

"826 - Confrontations, Part 2 of 4"

[Occurs immediately after the events of "The Price You Pay"]

Principal Characters:
Victor Demonsson
Grey the Thief
Curtis the Minstrel
Erik the Thief
Klaus the Getaway Driver
8Ball the Mercenary
Cassius Henderson and Co
Friar Lysander
Kylar Curran

Secondary Characters:
Earl Jeremy Flitt
Sir Daro Cole
Leo Streely, Ducal Pig Boy and Delusional Emperor
Others TBA

****

Galaxia
The Kling Siege lines
Two hours after dawn

Victor dropped the body of the last Kling soldier and started forward again. There had only been three in this group, and he'd barely had to slow down to kill them all. They were too focused on the city, too complacent, and his approach from the direction of their own lines had caught them by surprise. It had been the same way as he approached, each soldier too worried about the city and the wealth he might gain in the sacking of it to realize that Death was approaching him from behind until it was too late and he was in its grasp.

Victor had cut a narrow swath through the Kling lines like a bolt fired from the crossbow he'd lost to the Kling months before, never deviating from his path, never pursuing a step more than was needed to silence any outcry on the part of his victims. He'd stopped counting them after the first hand; there were other things on his mind. Flitt, and Cole, and making sure that Poppet and their child were free, that was all that was important now. The Kling were merely flies to be brushed aside on the way to that goal.

The walls were growing nearer now, and he paused to let a sentry walk past before rising out of the shadows to drag him down into a darker, eternal night. A moment's struggle, a single wrench of his hands, and the Kling was gone to the winds as Death marched forward again. A few hundred yards and then there was the wall to scale, a thing the Kling had yet to accomplish, and that Victor gave no thought to. Nothing would stand in his way today; nothing could stand in his way. If needed be, he would tear it down with his bare hands to make a passage.

The heavy clouds moved on, spreading a shadow across the field, and leaving a trail of bodies in their wake as he continued his relentless march towards the mate that he knew would no longer claim him.

****

Galaxia
Just inside the city walls
Two and a half hours after dawn

The Kling had pounded the Lefederan lines throughout the night. Heavy losses had resulted from the fierce fighting, and now the Galaxian natives were re-grouping.

Kylar Curran trudged through the militia lines, giving moralistic support where he could. Many were dying, and many had been lost on the blood-let fields that he had fought alongside throughout the hours, days, and months of the invasion. At least, it seemed that way, after scrambling for every inch of ground without rest.

Curran himself had lost three fingers on his shield-arm, the end result of a Kling battle mace splintering his shield and rending them off. He was lucky to have kept his hand at all. Or so the doctors said.

He approached the village gates, guarded by what able sentries were left, and nodded to the exhausted guards, resilient in their duties.

His cloak gone, his breeches in tatters, he lifted his bandaged hands and peered through the iron portcullis, wondering when the end would come.

Out in the fog that covered the open area between the Kling lines and the walls three sentries moved back and forth, watchful in case of a Lefederan sally. The Kling paused occasionally to stamp their feet and shake spears at the mostly empty walls, and then moved on about their rounds. As Curran watched, the two sentries turned back, retracing their steps across the field with the tired shuffle of men at the end of their shifts.

The former moneylender felt an ominous dread fall over him as he watched the Kling rattle and stamp in their blood lust. All attempts to repel them had failed at every turn. It was as if they knew where the Galaxians were planning their attacks before they occurred. The pain of a traitor in their midst was too much of a stretch. No one would turn their backs on their own people to those bloodthirsty barbarians. It was unthinkable. But how did they know? He shook his head.

The clouds overhead rumbled slowly on... and then there was only one sentry, not three; the second having vanished as cleanly as the first, so cleanly that had Curran not been looking at him when he was pulled down into the fog he would have sworn it was magic. There was not a sound, not a stir to the fog - he was just gone, as if the earth had opened up and swallowed him.

Kylar blinked as the fog swallowed up the sentry. He peered deeper through the grate separating them, and half-entertained the thought of chasing him down and berating him for his stupidity.

Yet... he waited. Something pulled him back. He glanced behind him at the rows of infirm, the remaining militia defending the walls of the village, staring back with dirt and battle-scarred faces. Most of them were kids, their fathers and uncles fallen in conflict. Someone needed to lead them.

His fists curled around the iron bars separating the town from the fate that awaited them.

The last sentry, finally, realized that something was amiss when he turned and saw no other men standing in the mist started to shout - and a shadow fell on him from out of the mist, pulling him down with only a soft croak that barely reached Curran's ears, like the morning cry of one of the ravens that had fed so well these last months. The Kling's spear dropped silently like a felled tree, and after a second there was only the slow-moving mist.

Something was amiss. Or that was the cry of a vulture smelling its dinner feast coming. Something or someone had died out there. He knew it.

Slowly, as if unwilling to move into the light, a shadow moved up out of the mist where the last sentry had fallen and started to advance on the gate in a steady, measured pace. As it drew closer, it resolved itself into a dark-haired man clad entirely in black, advancing on the gate inexorably, as if he intended to pass through it as though it were made of nothing more substantial than the mists he'd just left.

Curran squinted against the faint light. The shape of something was advancing on the gate, but could not tell, for it was swathed in the same colors as the night sky and its children, the trees.

"Go back to your kind, Kling, or you will fall here without ever seeing the face of your enemy. You will NOT pass." Curran carefully stepped back from the miniscule window that opened itself to the outside walls and gripped his birch bow in one hand, eying the flare of the burning torch as he retracted an arrow swathed in fuel from the barrel located beside the pulley lever that would lift the steel belt that pinned the gates shut. He eyed the steel bolt of the exit door used for quick entries by Galaxia's own. The bolt was held fast.

The dark man paused at the edge of the light, and then moved into it, the glow from the torch picking out the lines of his face and the expensive materials and fine work of the black clothes that he wore. He was definitely not Kling, that much was obvious, but the way he moved and the look on his face promised more death than just the paltry amount he'd dealt to the sentries.

Curran grew wary of the stranger who marched with due determination to the town gates as if his will alone could open them and wash all aside. This was no Kling; the savages wouldn't let pass a taunt, and their intelligence was too dull to try and slip an agent of intelligence within. Whoever this stranger was, the sentries who'd been stationed outside did not stop him. Therefore he must have disposed of them.

Whatever he was, he was still an enemy.

After another step, the dark man paused an arm's reach outside the bars of the gate, unafraid of the arrow Curran had nocked, and looked at him for a moment. Bizarrely, he leaned forward slightly and sniffed, as if trying to identify Kylar by scent, then grunted once in recognition. "I thought you were wolf enough to reach the WebWitch."

Curran slitted eyes grew wide at the moment this truth dawned on him of who stood before him. He couldn't make out the features of this one who had intervened in his imminent capture several weeks earlier, but the voice was unmistakable.

"What business do you have here, Demon? There is nothing for you here, unless you have come to join the cause." He tried to peer past him into the darkness beyond where embers danced in the moonlight from Kling camps some distance away. Droplets fell about him, fizzing in the oil-fed fires. The sentries had not returned.

"Your cause, not mine," the dark man replied in an oddly calm voice.

"I somehow doubt that. You killed the sentries." A rhetorical statement. "I need every body I can get to repel the savages. I should kill you where you stand, and rid these lands of a made-up legend."

"The Kling were in my way. So were the others behind them." The simple statement conjured up an image of a trail of bodies stretching back into the distance. The dark man regarded Curran for a moment, and then added, "Man made the legend, not me." Something dangerous moved in his eyes, as implacable as the end that awaited everyone when their days ran down. "I just am what I am."

"Where is your woman? Skulking in the woods waiting for me to open the gates to strike me down?"

"Where is your woman? Skulking in the woods waiting for me to open the gates to strike me down?"

"No." The demon pointed a hand through the bars of the gate at Count Brhode's castle. "There. She and our child are there." He smiled then, and the reason for the legend was suddenly clear as his humanity slipped away, leaving only the demon. "I am here for them - and the one that took them."

The notion that he owed this creature something nagged at Curran. He glanced once again to the bolted door, and felt an urge to go release the latch to admit the demon. Damn Webwitch must've concocted something to coerce his thoughts to allowing the enemy entrance to the last stead of the defenders.

The dark man wrapped one hand around the bars of the gate, the torchlight glinting on a ring that drew Curran's eye. It was expensive, crafted by a master, and the symbol was one that tickled at the back of his mind.

"Nice bit of jewelry. You'd best not to have stolen it off one of my men, Demon." His lips curled as he nocked the arrow even tighter in his grip. The wrong answer, and he'd penetrate this Demon with as many arrows as he could notch.

"Mine." The growled word was low and definite. "From my wife." His eyes glinted, the humanity that had started to resurface drowning again. "Flitt took her from me."

"Who is this Flitt? Do you speak of the Earl? You had best be not speaking badly of him. He's supplied forces in pushing back the Kling from our lines. If he took your woman, it was for a good reason." He eyed him warily as rain pattered about him. It was gently increasing in volume, and thundered rumbled in the distance. It echoed his hunger, as the foodstuffs were running out. Each day rations grew smaller, and he'd lost significant weight since his journey into these grey lands to defend his home.

"Maybe he is leading you here, to make you atone for your lack of care in lending your services in defense of the Earl and King who has given you free reign of the Forest."

"No." Something terrible moved in the demon's eyes. "He took her because he lusts for her - and the lands that come with her. I know not which lust is greater, but he slew her people to satisfy both." There was little that was human about the smile that moved across his face. "Just as his lust for power and land drives him to sell your lives to the Kling for power and lands after the war."

"Do you have proof of this? You make some pretty strong accusations."

"I saw his man Cole with the Kling in the forest, heard him say the words Flitt had put in his mouth. I heard the Kling say the same words in their camp before I escaped." The demon leaned forward, his eyes clearing enough for the pain and loss buried in them to show though. "This is the day the Kling come for you and your city. I have to reach her now, reach him now..."

Curran's eyes grew right wide. There was a traitor! But he couldn't believe it was this Flitt. Yet... it had to be someone of stature to acquire and send troop movements to the Kling with the viciousness and methodical routing they had accomplished.

He was at odds with himself. Loyalty to his people, or to the one who saved him to deliver him to this deathbed? He decided.

Curran dropped his arrow, and clamped his hands around the slippery bolt that held the door in place.

"I do this because I owe you my life, Demon. I at least have the opportunity to die in battle defending these lands than on a dirty path far from here." He grunted as he lifted the bar out of place and opened the door, glancing past the Demon for any invaders. He used the man's bulk to shield himself from any snipers.

"If you are lying to me, Demon, I will come and kill you myself. If you are telling the truth, then this Cole and Earl Flitt will get what they deserve."

The dark man blinked once as the bolt slid open. "Only men lie," he said quietly as the door opened just enough for him to pass through. He paused on the other side as it was closed again, and added, "I'm not a man." He turned and looked across the ruins of the town at the castle, his voice emotionless and all the more terrifying for that as he finished, "I'm a demon."

As Curran picked up his bow again, the dark man turned and pointed through the bars. "They will come from both sides of the sun's path, rising and setting, when they attack. I saw them massing there as I came." He studied Curran for a moment. "If it is to be, then die well," he said as he turned away and began to move into the ruined town. "Flitt will not."

[Heinous Backpost]

"826 - Confrontations, Part 3 of 4"

[Occurs immediately after the events of "The Price You Pay"]

Principal Characters:
Victor Demonsson
Grey the Thief
Curtis the Minstrel
Erik the Thief
Klaus the Getaway Driver
8Ball the Mercenary
Cassius Henderson and Co
Friar Lysander
Kylar Curran

Secondary Characters:
Earl Jeremy Flitt
Sir Daro Cole
Leo Streely, Ducal Pig Boy and Delusional Emperor
Others TBA

****

Galaxia
The Kling Siege lines
Two hours after dawn

Victor dropped the body of the last Kling soldier and started forward again. There had only been three in this group, and he'd barely had to slow down to kill them all. They were too focused on the city, too complacent, and his approach from the direction of their own lines had caught them by surprise. It had been the same way as he approached, each soldier too worried about the city and the wealth he might gain in the sacking of it to realize that Death was approaching him from behind until it was too late and he was in its grasp.

Victor had cut a narrow swath through the Kling lines like a bolt fired from the crossbow he'd lost to the Kling months before, never deviating from his path, never pursuing a step more than was needed to silence any outcry on the part of his victims. He'd stopped counting them after the first hand; there were other things on his mind. Flitt, and Cole, and making sure that Poppet and their child were free, that was all that was important now. The Kling were merely flies to be brushed aside on the way to that goal.

The walls were growing nearer now, and he paused to let a sentry walk past before rising out of the shadows to drag him down into a darker, eternal night. A moment's struggle, a single wrench of his hands, and the Kling was gone to the winds as Death marched forward again. A few hundred yards and then there was the wall to scale, a thing the Kling had yet to accomplish, and that Victor gave no thought to. Nothing would stand in his way today; nothing could stand in his way. If needed be, he would tear it down with his bare hands to make a passage.

The heavy clouds moved on, spreading a shadow across the field, and leaving a trail of bodies in their wake as he continued his relentless march towards the mate that he knew would no longer claim him.

****

Galaxia

Making sure Poppet stayed alive was Curtis' number one priority. The arrows flew from one side to the other and it was becoming more and more difficult to make forward progress.

Curtis could hear the arrows coming and so had managed to duck them so far, but he couldn't keep it up forever.

"This doesn't look good." Curtis said, grimly.

"Figures." Grey grumbled.

Just then, from the shadows, two large men emerged bearing weapons. They spotted the travelers at once and without so much as a reason, they charged.

Curtis, as if by instinct, drew his sword and stepped in front of Poppet.

"Don't be stupid." Grey said, trying to shove him back.

"You have to stay alive Poppet! Please let me handle it!" Curtis shouted.

"Handle them snapping you like firewood?"

Curtis ran out of time to argue, as one of the men was now upon him. It had been so long since Curtis had handled a weapon, but the knowledge was still there.

The other man sneered at her so Grey lunged with her knife in her best attempt to cut the sneer from his face.

No advantage was clear in Curtis' corner. His style depended so much on speed and dodging that he hardly ever struck. It was a game of stick and move.

She was doing fine until the bastard pulled a club from out of nowhere and struck her in the arm. Grey howled and fell to the ground, spewing curses.

Curtis glanced behind his attacker and saw Poppet, her attacker bearing down on her. Instantly he was active again and, gathering his strength, he leaped.

He leaped clear over the man and so distracted was the attacker by the feat that Curtis was able to land, turn and deliver and solid blow to the back. The man cried out and fell by Curtis' feet.

Staring for a moment, Curtis remembered Poppet and turned to face her.

Just in time to take an arrow to the chest.

"Curtis!"

She ran into the first inn she came across. "I don't have the money now but whoever helps me into the castle will be rewarded when I kill Flitt."

"Well, now that's a new one," a voice said from a crowd, the slightest of accents noticeable. Grey pinpointed a small woman in black drinking from a glass of ale, a long scar running from her forehead down to her jawline. "'Iring mercenaries without money. Doesn't go over all that well. But... one can only drink stale ale for so long before getting bored. 'Ow big is this reward?"

"As big as it needs to be."

"Hmmm. Sounds promising. Of course, getting 'ired to 'elp storm a castle and kill Earl Flitt doesn't sound entirely promising on it's own. 'ard to enjoy compensation six feet under." The woman in black stood up and looked Grey up and down. "Do you promise you'll pay? Assuming we aren't all dead, of course?"

Grey looked at the young woman and nodded. "I swear it by my child's life."

The young woman raised her eyebrow. "I've 'heard better oaths. Still... sure, why not?" The woman grinned. "I could use the money. The name's 8-ball. How do you do?"

She raised a brow. "I've been better. Let's go."

****

Galaxia
Exterior of Count Brhode's Castle
Three and a half hours after dawn

Victor paused, keeping to the shadows in a small alleyway between two buildings as he studied the castle. He'd never considered whether it would be difficult to enter before he'd seen it up close, and he doubted that someone that owed him their life would conveniently be placed at one of the closed and guarded gates. The fact that such a man had been at the city gate was ore than he could have expected - to wish for repetition here was folly.

But there were many ways into and out of a place besides the doors that man carved into it - especially one as large as the structure in front of him. And, as his watch from the shadows had shown him, he was not the only one interested in such a thing.

From one of the towers a slender rope hung, carefully tucked into the recessed meeting of two walls to hide it from view. In the streets below, a small cart sat, animals hitched to it, and a man who hid his nervousness well pretended to sleep in the driver's seat.

Victor had studied them both, the rope and the man, and decided that this was his way in. Whoever the man waited for, whatever they were doing within the castle, it was none of his concern. Only Poppet's life and Flitt's death mattered now.

As clouds passed in front of the lazy morning sun he moved, another shadow among many, across the street to the rear of the wagon. He paused there, listened to the driver of the wagon complain in whispers to himself about someone named 'Erik' and moved on. As his hands closed on the rope and he started to climb, Victor reflected that whoever 'Erik' was, he would have some explaining to do when he finally came back out of the castle

****

Galaxia
Interior of Count Brhode's castle
Four and a half hours after dawn

Brhode's castle was larger than it appeared from the outside. Victor had supposed that it would be like his cave, mostly rock with few rooms inside, but only a few steps into the structure after his entry through the tower he understood that he'd been mistaken. There were rooms and halls all arranged in a confusing way, people moving about in different livery, and everywhere, guards and more guards.

The guards, at least, he'd understood. No one who felt themselves as important as the nobles staying here could have gotten there without making enemies, and having enemies meant that you needed guards; at least in the world of man, it did. As the second set in as many minutes passed by, Victor decided that the nobles must be helpless. No one that could defend himself needed so many men to keep him safe, regardless of the number of his enemies.

The third guard that passed by the doorway wore livery that Victor knew instantly. He'd seen it on Cole and Flitt's men in the forest, and it was graven on his memory. He felt the demon's smile cross his face as he opened the door silently while the man passed by and pulled him through it like one of the spiders that built little covered pits in the forest floor.

It took only five heartbeats for the guard to understand what Victor wanted and only one heartbeat past that for him to understand that giving it to him was the way to make the pain stop.

Victor left the man on the floor ten heartbeats later, the demon smiling as he slipped out into the hall and went hunting.

****

Galaxia
Count Brhode's Castle
Five hours after Dawn

Hunting was hunting, he'd realized that now. There were no trees here, no grass under his feet, and that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he understood the rules again. This was a hunt, and there was no one better at hunting than he was.

He'd left a trail of Flitt's guards behind him, broken discarded things that had once been men tucked into whatever nook or cranny he could find. He wouldn't have bothered with that ordinarily, but the need to reach Flitt and Cole, the need to make sure that Poppet was free, overrode everything else. But now he'd found one of the three people he'd come to find, one that would answer the questions he had - once he'd stopped screaming.

Victor realized that Cole had stopped making noises and looked down to discover that he had the man by the throat, despite not recalling telling his hands to do that. It came to him that Cole needed air to scream - and to talk - and he released the knight's throat to let him fall to the floor of the well-appointed bedroom he'd been directed to.

"A demon," Daro Cole whispered hoarsely, his face gone deadly pale as he sucked in greedy gulps of air. He looked at the three dead men strewn around the room, all killed before he could rise from his chair Victor had plucked him out of. "You're a demon."

"Flitt." It was the demon talking now, the flat tones that echoed with the screams of the dying. "Where is he?" Poppet would be with Flitt, or nearby. He wouldn't leave her where she might escape.

"I...d..ddon't know" Cole's teeth chattered.

The demon reached down and took Cole by the front of the throat, fingers digging in, and lifted him off the floor that way, the knight's hands grasping at Victor's arm and wrist, trying to free himself or at least support some of his weight and ease the pain.

With another smile, the demon slapped Cole's hands away and squeezed harder, feeling the tissues and cartilage of the knight's throat start to give. "Not good enough. Where is he?"

"That way. THAT WAY!" Cole yelped, trying desperately to point the way to the demon despite the intense pain.

The demon regarded Cole for an instant, and then released him again, standing patiently as the man gagged and choked his way back to life. "Up. Show me."

"No, I... Yes! Yes!" Cole gasped as the demon reached for him again

"Up. Show me." Victor stepped back as Cole struggled to his feet.

"Just a minute, I can't... urrrgggg..."

Victor twisted the knight's arm until it broke with a dry crack, Cole's hidden dagger falling to the floor with a soft clang. "Stupid. Show me and I let you live."

Cole turned a rabbit's frightened eyes on Victor for a moment and then nodded jerkily and started to stumble for the door. Victor caught up with him in one step, his hand clamping on the back of Cole's neck to jerk him upright. "Slowly," the demon warned, prodding him with a dagger taken from the scabbard of a dead guard. "Slowly."

****

Galaxia
Outside Count Brhode's Meeting Hall
Five and a half hours after dawn

Cole was not popular with the other noble's guards. That was easy to tell from the way they had moved out of the way as he led Victor down the hall, their smiles at Cole's condition out in the open. Not one asked who Victor was, or why he had treated Cole so - they seemed only glad to see it happen.

Most, he assumed in the instants that the demon was not contemplating killing them, must think him a noble from his dress, and they were not paid to interfere in the affairs of nobles. The one or two that he sensed knew something was wrong also did nothing, perhaps not being paid enough to interfere in the affairs of demons, either.

"H-here." Cole's voice wasn't getting any better.

The door he indicated was manned by two of Brhode's guards - both of which were looking back and forth between each other and Victor as he and Cole approached.

"My lord," one began. "Is there some problem with this..."

Neither Victor nor the demon cared what they were about to say. With a sharp shove, he jammed Cole into them, which gave him the time needed to reach out and grasp them each by the side of the head, then jerk their heads together one, twice, three times, and then release them.

As the fell, he snatched Cole back to his feet and out of the way, then delivered a stamping kick to each of the guards as they hit the floor, leaving them senseless. "Open it," he growled to Cole after the door refused top yield to his push.

"C-can't," Cole gurgled. "N-no key."

Victor smiled, paying no attention to Cole as the knight recoiled at the expression. No key? That wasn't much of a problem at all - not with Flitt on the other side of the door.

[Heinous Backpost]

"826 - Confrontations, Part 4 of 4"

[Occurs immediately after the events of "The Price You Pay"]

Principal Characters:
Victor Demonsson
Grey the Thief
Curtis the Minstrel
Erik the Thief
Klaus the Getaway Driver
8Ball the Mercenary
Cassius Henderson and Co
Friar Lysander
Kylar Curran

Secondary Characters:
Earl Jeremy Flitt
Sir Daro Cole
Leo Streely, Ducal Pig Boy and Delusional Emperor
Others TBA

****

Galaxia
Inside Count Brhode's Meeting Hall
Five and a half hours after dawn

The first booming blow on the hall's door stopped all conversation inside the cavernous room. Heads turned, eyes widened, and nervous guards started, one dropping his polearm with a loud clatter.

"Rima," Cassius Henderson got out, as he rose, his sword starting to clear -and then the second blow landed and the door buckled in it's frame.

"What are they using, a ram?" Rima gasped as she drew her weapon and moved to stand between the assembled nobles and the door.

A third and final blow knocked the door into the room, exposing the guards outside sprawled on the floor, Daro Cole lying atop them trying to clutch an obviously freshly-broken leg, and a tall, dark man in expensive black clothing, the wooden bench he had just used to batter down the door still in his hands.

"One man?" Rima breathed - and then gasped as she got a good look at him. "No, not a man..."

The dark man stepped into the room, eyes moving across the assembled men in silence. When he spoke, it was in a voice that echoed with the cries of the dead, a killer's voice, death's voice. "Flitt. Give him to me and no one else has to die. "

Jeremy Flitt looked up at the interruption at first with annoyance and then with something bordering on terror, a first for him in many years. "Guards! Seize him!"

"Flitt? He's just here for Flitt?" Rima asked Cassius. "What do we do?"

'Watch," Henderson decided. "We watch and see what happens. This shouldn't take long - he hasn't got a weapon."

As Flitt's five men moved forward, it became apparent the dark man didn't need one - he was one. The first fell to the bench when it was driven into his face hard enough to splinter teeth and shatter bone, and the second went down when his mail failed to blunt the bench's blow that turned his ribs into knives that sliced into him, sending a spray of blood from his mouth as he fell.

The dark man smiled then, a terrible smile that sent spikes of fear into Henderson's spine, a killer's smile that promised that still more death was coming. 'Gods," he whispered, moving closer to Rima without thinking. "What is he?"

The other three guards looked at one another and spread out, starting to move in on the dark man from different sides, trying to keep at least two of their number out of the lethal bench's reach. The dark man looked, made a sound that might have been a laugh, and simply threw the bench into the legs of the man approaching from his right, tripping him.

As the guard fell, the dark man feinted towards the left - and then moved right, one foot rising and falling in a single stamp that crushed the throat of the fallen guard. He laughed then, a low, chill sound that was like the hinges on the gates of hell as they swung open, and turned on the other two guards.

One backpedaled, saving himself for last with the movement as the second was seized by the arm and dragged around like a child, sword flying away, to be slammed against a stone pillar and die, his spine breaking like a rotted branch. The final guard stood with wide, panicked eyes, trembling, as the dark man advanced on him, only raising his sword at the last minute - too late - as a knife plucked from the last man to die's belt was sheathed in his throat.

"Flitt," the dark man repeated, turning on the Earl. He advanced with the inexorable pace of death itself. "I am here for you, traitor."

"Help me!" Flitt shouted to the other lords.

"We have to stop him," Rima urged, starting forward.

"No," Cassius said quietly, one hand on her arm to hold her back. "Not yet."

"What?" she hissed.

"He just called the earl a traitor," Cassius replied. "Someone has sold our plans to the Kling. We have to know - and we cannot put him to the question.

Rima's eyes widened. "But... he..."

"Yes, he can - whatever he is." Henderson turned back, a grim look on his face. "And the gods help the Earl if the accusation is true."

"What do you want?" Flitt demanded of Victor, scuttling around a table. "Name your price and you will have it."

"Where is she, Flitt? What have you done with her?" The dark man never slowed his advance.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

For a moment it appeared another name was about to leave the dark man's mouth, but the one that emerged was, "Ella, Flitt. Ella Grey."

Flitt's face softened and the fear in his eyes half faded as it was overcome with something close to awe. "So, she still lives. I almost killed Daro for lying when he said he had seen her again. She is not here."

"Ella Grey?" Rima whispered to Cassius, never looking away from the spectacle in front of them.

"The daughter of the late Earl Gray. He and his family were killed by raiders years ago," Cassius replied, his eyes on Flitt. "Or... we thought they were. Flitt holds Earl Gray's lands now...."

"You lie with every breath you take," the dark man hissed, never ceasing his approach.

"I tell you," Flitt shouted, eyes wide, "she is not here! Don't kill me!"

"Cassius..." Rima shifted position uncertainly.

The dark man reached Flitt and stopped. For a moment, he did nothing at all - and then he smiled and the Earl's sword dropped from trembling fingers with a metallic ring. The dark man laughed once, the gate to the Hells swinging open in the sound, and reached for the shaking figure of the Earl.

Cassius started to step forward, Rima at his side, as the dark man's hands drew Flitt closer and a smile that promised screams of death and madness crossed his face.

"Victor!" Grey yelled from the doorway, her new guard 8ball behind her. "No."

The dark man froze in place at the words, his terrible presence receding palpably, as if driven away by the mere sound of her voice. 'Poppet," he whispered so quietly that even in the silent room it was almost lost.

"Ella." Flitt echoed softly.

Cassius stopped, waiting, one hand on Rima's arm. "Hold," he said quietly

Grey entered slowly and looked around her. Some of the faces she recognized, some she didn't. She felt out of place, even in her fine, if slightly bloodstained, blue dress. She wanted to go to her husband but didn't. Instead she stood tall and looked evenly at Flitt and the other lords. "He has betrayed you."

"Betrayed us... how?" Count Bhrode asked, his voice harsh in the silence as he spoke for the first time, pushing the guards that had surrounded him on the dark man's entrance aside.

"He's sold your plans to the Kling. My husband and I heard him."

"This is preposterous!" Flitt yelled.

"How do you think they always overcome our armies?" Grey continued. "He is a betrayer. He killed my parents. He is a false earl."

The dark man looked from Flitt to Ella as accusations flew back and forth between the two for a moment and then abruptly turned and moved past them top the door, men-at-arms scattering in his path like chickens.

"What's he doing?" Rima asked quietly.

"I don't know... but I hope it gives us something to work with on Earl Flitt or this is going to be all for nothing," Cassius replied, eyes on the earl as he denied Lady Grey's latest round of accusations.

A moment passed, and then an anguished howl sounded from just outside the doorway and silenced the back and forth dialog between Lady Grey and the Earl. All heads snapped in that direction to see the dark man returning, Earl Flitt's man, the knight Daro Cole, stumbling awkwardly behind him, compelled to do so by the dark man's grip on his remaining, unbroken arm.

The dark man dragged Cole to face the assembled nobles. "Tell them," he ordered.

Cole looked at Flitt, and then the other lords. "Help me, please," he begged. "He's mad, he killed..."

Cole's good arm broke with a snap. "Tell them," the dark man repeated, his voice edged with the screams of the damned.

"No, please," Cole whispered, eyes wide. "I can't, I..."

"Tell them the truth," the dark man whispered, taking Cole by the front of the throat with one hand, "and I'll let you live." He smiled again, and Cole began to nod frantically at the sight.

"The Earl has been selling information to the Kling for years," the knight began to babble, his voice slightly strangled by the dark man's grip on the front of his throat. "It started just after he had Earl Grey murdered to gain his lands, so that he would have the money to..."

The litany went on and on, one evil piled on another as Cole talked. One or two the nobles appeared shocked as the list of Flitt's crimes piled up, and Count Bhrode's scribes worked like machines, taking it all down, as their lord's scowl grew deeper and deeper. Murders, treachery, treason, robbery, theft, evasion of taxes, there seemed to be no depth that Flitt had not plumbed personally, or had his men plumb for him.

"He's going to burn," Cassius whispered triumphantly to Rima. "Look at him, this is all true. Flitt knows this is the end!"

Flitt's nervousness increased exponentially with the number of Cole's disclosures. As the knight began to wind down, the earl's eyes took on the look of a trapped animal, and he looked about the room for anyone that seemed unwilling to believe what had been said.

There was no one.

The dark man turned to the assembled nobles. "You heard?"

Count Bhrode stepped up and nodded. 'We heard. You have our thanks for revealing the traitor to us."

"Not for you," the dark man said with a nod towards Lady Grey's silent figure. "For her."

Bhrode looked from the young woman to the dark man, his eyes lingering on the ring that glinted in the lamplight on the hand that held Cole's throat. "I... see. Well then, you have it all the same."

The dark man shrugged once, as if the assembled gratitude of all present meant as much to him as a single grain of sand to a desert. He looked about the room slowly, and then turned his attention to the terrified knight still gripped in his hand. "Remember what I told you?" he said, his voice a low growl.

Cole nodded as best he could. "You said... I would live if I... told you what I knew."

The dark man nodded slowly. "Did you touch her?"

Cole's eyes swung away fro the demon that held him and looked towards Lady Grey.

"Did you touch her?" the dark man repeated, his wrist flexing as his fingers tightened.

"Yes," the broken knight gurgled.

The dark man's head turned and looked towards Lady Grey, and his features hardened.

"Damn," Cassius whispered.

"What?" Rima asked. Looking in his direction.

Before Cassius could answer, the dark man turned back to Cole and smiled again, the screams of the souls lost in the Hells crying out in welcome to their newest companion floating behind the next words the demon uttered: "I lied."

Cole's eyes widened, but before he could do anything, before he could even scream, the dark man's hand clamped down, fingers digging in like talons, feeling for purchase around the knight's windpipe. Cole rose up on his toes, hands beating at the dark man futilely. With a grunt and a powerful jerk, the dark man's fingers met and pulled free, taking the front of Cole's throat with them in a horrid wet, tearing sound.

Spun sideways, Cole's flailing, jerking body sent a wash of blood across the floor as he bled out in seconds, the pool of crimson spreading across the stone rapidly. The dying knight spasmed once, his back arched until it looked as if it would break, and then he was still.

"Gods," Cassius whispered, horrified.

The room was silent for a second, and then the dark man dropped the bloody gobbet of flesh in his hand to the floor with a splat.

Flitt's nerve broke then as the dark man turned towards him, and the disgraced earl ran through the shattered door and into the hall with a single, girlish shriek.

"Jeremy." Grey called, pursuing him.

Flitt stopped dead in his tracks. Even in the long years of his dreams, she had never called him by his first name. He turned around slowly. "It was never personal, Ella. I... I loved you."

Ella Grey came towards him slowly, like a dream, like she was floating. She stopped before him and reached up to cup his face. "Jeremy," she said...

...and then plunged the knife in his heart.

Flitt gasped and reeled back.

"I never loved you." Grey told him before he died. "For my parents."

A single footstep sounded behind her, and the dark man spoke a single word. "Poppet."

Grey spun and practically leapt into his arms, tried to hug him, plant kisses on his face, and hold back her hysterical sobs all at the same time.

[Another Heinous Backpost]

"826 - The Truth Will Set You Free"

[Takes place several days after the events of "Confrontations"]

Principal Characters:
Grey the Thief
Victor Demonsson

****

Galaxia
Curtis' House
Grey and Victor's Room

They were leaving back for home tomorrow. Grey smiled slightly at the little room that had been her home for the past few weeks. She had been grateful that she had borne Harper in such a place. But now he would be able to take him home.

She checked his blankets again, made sure he was warm but not suffocated, before slipping back into bed with Victor. Grey snuggled next to him and waited for his arms to support her. They did not. She frowned. Their reunion had been a happy one and yet something had changed. He seemed almost...reluctant to touch her. It was something she was going to have to discuss with him in the morning.

Ten minutes later, she fiercely shook Victor. If she couldn't sleep, she didn't see why he should be able to.

"Something is wrong. Tell me." Grey said.

Victor lay there for a moment without responding. He hadn't been asleep, but there was no need to tell Poppet that, not when she wanted to know the one thing that he had never wanted to tell her. He sighed. "Sleep now, talk in the morning." He wanted just one last night with her before it was over.

"You can sleep after I'm satisfied." She announced. "Speaking of which..."

"Nothing is wrong," he said softly, knowing that she wouldn't believe him. He'd never lied to her before and the words tasted like ashes in his mouth.

"Then why won't you touch me?" Grey demanded. "Something is wrong. Tell me, husband."

There it was. He had to answer, and when he did there would be no more time, no more touches, no more warmth filling him from the inside. No more Poppet. "I did not escape the Kling, I was released. To be free to come for you and Harper, and to stalk Flitt and Cole, I had to give the army's First Knife something she valued more than me." He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the look in hers as he said the words. "A child."

Grey blinked in the darkness. Then she blinked back tears. "Oh." Was all she could think to say.

That one word was enough. It cut into him like a knife, taking his voice and leaving him unable to do anything but lie there and feel his life unravel around him.

She pushed herself out of the bed. "I... need some air." Grey glanced at Harper silently before she left them and went to sit outside in the moonlight.

Victor waited until he could not stand the emptiness any more, and then rose to follow her, his feet soundless as he crossed the room and stopped to touch his son on the face. He sighed once, and then followed her outside, saying nothing as he draped a blanket over her shoulders and stood there next to her.

A cloud moved across the moonlit sky from side to side before he quietly said, "I will leave in the morning."

Her head whipped around quickly and she was on her feet before he could even blink. Grey shoved him with all her might, what good it did. Victor barely moved. "You will not leave us for your little Kling whore!" she shouted at him before moving to hit him.

Victor stood there silent as she swung, accepting the first three blows without comment, waiting until the fourth to answer, "I do not leave you to be with her, or any other."

Grey bit back a snarl and forced herself to breathe naturally again. Thoughts of tracking down this First Knife and beating her senseless were suddenly forgotten. "Then... why would you leave?"

"Because I'm not yours anymore," he explained. It was so plain to him, why could she not see? How could he stay after he had given to another that which should be hers and hers alone?

She tilted her head and looked at him with a slightly confused face. "I said forever, Victor. And I meant it. Did not you?"

"Yes." He frowned, confused. Why did she not hit him again? Why was she not still angry? Did she... did she *not* want him to go? Did she still want to be his mate?

Grey let him reach a hesitant hand to her face and then kissed his palm. She moved his arm aside and hugged him tightly. "I missed you. I missed you so much."

She still wanted him. Victor closed his eyes and let her warmth fill him, driving out the dark emptiness that had started to creep in. His arms closed around her tightly and he felt oddly weak, as though he was having trouble standing. She still wanted him.

They sat back down and she draped the blanket around them. "You enjoyed yourself." Grey commented nonchalantly. "That is why you haven't touched me."

"I gave another that which was yours alone," he sighed. "I did not think you would have me." Then, perhaps foolishly, he added, "I do not think that it can not feel good, Poppet. I didn't want it to, but it is supposed to feel that way."

"It is the way of men." Grey shrugged. "And you did what you had to do to come back to us. I forgive you for it."

He sighed again, and rested his head on her shoulder as he did when he was very, very tired. "I love you," he whispered softly. "Thank you."

Grey's eyes narrowed. "As long as you didn't enjoy yourself too much."

Victor frowned, trying to decide what 'too much' was. He had trouble remembering much after he'd released the demon, but from the way he'd felt in the morning, the demon, at least had enjoyed himself. But then, the demon wasn't him, so did that count?

"And I'm better than she was, of course." Grey added in a steely tone that Victor, if he hadn't lost his wits while captured, should recognize.

Perhaps it would be better to explain and let Poppet decide. Even were she to hit him again, it was better to have no secrets. "I don't remember," he admitted.

"Probably not the best reply." She commented, her blue eyes glinting.

"I don't remember," he repeated slowly, "because it wasn't me - it was the demon."

"What are you talking about?"

He sighed. "There is a demon inside me, Poppet - a monster, a thing that lives to kill. It is why I frighten people - they can sense it hiding there. I've never shown it to you, never let it out where you might see because... because I was afraid that it would hurt you. That demon was what the First Knife - V'kela - saw when she first laid eyes on me. I'd let it out to kill the Kling, and hadn't been able to put it away again. She..." He stopped, trying to find the right words. "She wanted a child, but she wanted the strongest father she could find for it. Seeing me like that made her... want me to be the father."

Grey grimaced. "Right away?" She didn't want to think of this First Knife being with her mate for days on end.

"No, there was the day of knives and burning splinters first. Then she found this," he showed her the ring he still wore. "She thought that *I* was the one Flitt was afraid of, and that you were just a way to track me. She had me moved to a tent fit for the Earl she thought I was, and there were no more knives, just words and tea. We drank a lot of tea."

"Tea?" Grey asked. She did not think the Kling would be civilized enough for that. "Are you sure it was not some strange ale?"

"No, it smelled like the things you hang in the cave to sweeten the air. Like berries and herbs. Some of it was good, some not, and some..." He frowned again. "That last day, when I realized the city would fall and I thought Flitt had you within it, she brought a different tea with her. She told me later, after we'd had several cups, that it was made from some root- the takir root. It did things to me, I couldn't think clearly, I... I felt like I was on fire, and drowning, losing you, losing myself in the flames. She started to kiss me and..." he stopped for a moment. "I remember her biting me, remember being angry that she'd taken my will from me, remember the anger getting mixed with the wanting - and I remember thinking that if it was the demon she wanted, then she should have it... so I let it out."

Grey inhaled sharply and tried to reason through what he was telling her. She frowned a bit and tilted her head to the other side. She couldn't see it. She knew of the tales of the forest demon but she had never seen him in Victor. She could see the dark man, but for her he had always been the lonely wolf not the rabid one. "Show me." Grey said finally.

She didn't understand what she asked. "No."

"Show me this demon of yours."

Victor looked for the words to explain, the effort making his head hurt. Why were there so many words anyway, when no one used them all? "It knows nothing but murder, Poppet," he tried. "If I let it free, then... then it will change what you see when you look at me."

She touched his face gently. "I cannot understand unless I see. I cannot accept what I don't understand. Show me."

Like telling her of V'kela and her demand, he had no choice now. "I... yes," he acceded. Victor sighed, made sure to take one last look into her eyes, and moved away from her into a shaft of moonlight where she could see him clearly. "Do you have your knife?"

"Y..yes. Why?"

"Because I would rather be one with the wind than have hurt you."

She didn't respond to that, and just looked at him.

He nodded, took a breath, and reached inside himself to open the door he'd never wanted her to see behind. "I love you," he whispered one last time as it swung open and the demon howled free.

As she watched, Victor... changed. Something filled him to overflowing and then leaked out from his pores, shrouding him in menace like a cloud. An atavistic sense of terror beat at her like the wings of a giant unseen bird, screaming at her to run, to flee, that death was here for her.

"God," she whispered.

His face changed, the smile that slipped across his face not his, but someone - something - else's. It promised pain and death and screams to the viewer, all delivered with a mad intensity and relish that was as frightening as the promise itself. It wasn't Victor's smile, it wasn't a human smile - it was a demon's smile, death's smile.

She stood up slowly and walked over to her mate. Grey was unsurprised when he grabbed her tightly by the arm. She inhaled and then looked her husband in the eye. Victor smiled and moved his hands to her throat, tightly but not choking. Yet. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek. He may have been a demon but he was still her husband. "Come back, Victor," she managed.

The hands at her throat slowly tightened, fingers that had made her gasp with pleasure in the moonlight many nights in the past now making her gasp in fear as she felt the first hint of restriction to her breathing. The demon inside Victor smiled wider and leaned down to kiss her, as if trying to draw the last breath from her body.

She tried not to panic. Grey had never been strangled before but, oddly, told herself that her body knew what it felt like, would probably go through it again, and she could deal with it. It helped calm her somewhat and she closed her eyes and tried to hug Victor.

As her arms slipped around him, Victor's hands stopped their constriction without loosening. He frowned, the demon within him unable to understand what was happening as she kissed him again.

The hands at her throat twitched once, as if some internal struggle were taking place for control of them. Slowly, with several stops and starts, they loosened and slipped away, sliding down to draw her closer as Victor made a quiet growling noise and began to kiss her back.

She couldn't quite help the few tears of relief and Victor drew back in shame as he felt them on his cheek. Grey refused to let go, smiled a bit at the thought of how history tended to repeat itself. "Want."

That single word echoed back to the first night they'd had together, reminding him of all the ones since. "You are for me," he told her.

Grey hugged him tightly.

Victor tilted her face up to him after a moment, fingers brushing her cheek, then her throat. "You see?" he whispered. "A demon. I could not hurt you, but it can, that's why I keep it locked away."

"I understand."

"You are all right?" His eyes searched hers.

She nodded.

"Good." He kissed her slowly, and waited until she tried to draw him closer to pull back. "I want, too," he whispered against her lips as the first signs of a pout appeared.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Grey smirked.

Victor smiled and drew her to him for a long kiss that ended as they sank to the ground in the moonlight, his soft growls of pleasure and her gasping cries filling the small clearing as they set their spirits free to climb to the stars and fly among them like the gods.

"Movie of the Week"

By
Lt. jg Ahdjiia D'Tinya
Security Officer

Ensign Bulz'I
Science Officer (NPC written by Ian)

"Disturbing, isn't it?"  Ensign Bulz'I, an Andorian scientist assigned to the Bridge analysis crew, clamoured over the debris that had fallen to the ceiling.  The bodies, mummified by years of neglect and sealed inside the carcass of the ship, were now lined up against the curvature of the upper deck of the Galaxy main bridge.  Above him were the consoles he needed to get to.

He had found Lt. D'Tinya hovering over one of the bodies, silent.   It took a moment for the ensign's words to register.  "It is.", she said simply, forcing herself to focus on work now as it was all she had.  She turned to Bulz'l.  "Do you need any assistance?", she offered.   "Well, I need to get to those consoles up there, and tap them for sensor logs.  Think you can give me a lift up there?"

"Certainly.", Ahdjiia said as she walked over and locked her fingers together so Bulz'l could use her now meshed hands as a stepstool of sorts. Already she had prepared herself for his slightly higher than expected bodyweight.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."  He gingerly laced his boot into the Chrysalian's hands, and hopped up.  He just barely missed the railing above that connected with the Tactical Arch, and stumbled down again, barely grazing one of the bodies.  Dust lifted in the air. 

A second time was successful.

He cracked open the already shattered console, streaked with dried blood. He glanced down at the bodies below and wondered which of those lying dead met their fate on the shattered panels.

He shook off the feeling of incompletion.  Unhinging his tricorder, he wired it into the manual download circuits.

"So, Lieutenant.  What's your take on what happened here?  I'm a bit irritated myself.  Having to live on this savaged planet is depressing.  No other Andorians around at all.  It's not right."  He clamped the circuits in place, finally attaching a portable power cell, since the circuits were mostly dead.

"I haven't a clue.", Ahdjiia said as she looked up at the ensign while he worked, "It doesn't make sense for this to be the Galaxy when we were so recently on it.  But from what I've seen, there can be no other explanation."  She did understand his mention of being the only one of his kind around.  After all, she was the only Chrysalian in Starfleet.

"There's always another explanation."  He relaxed his hold on the circuitry boards, and with a sigh, dropped back to the ceiling plates below.  "And that's what this gadget is for."  He gave the cables hanging from above a slight tug to measure their bond, then plugged in his tricorder.

"This should take a few minutes still to download.  Then maybe we'll see exactly what happened in the last few minutes of our former home here."  The tricorder display burned bright with a plethora of colour, which he set down beside him, careful to avoid the corpses ritually lain up.

His antennae twitched nervously.

"Do you think Commander von Ernst is going to find a way for us to get home? I don't much like the idea of living out my days on this torn world."  A forlorn look at the shattered skyport gave him a sniffle.

"I'd never had the chance to get assigned to a duty rotation up here.  I was due hoping to get up here when my evaluation came up next month.  Guess this is my big chance, now."

"We can but hope.", Ahdjiia said, "Otherwise we will have to adapt...somehow."  She paused before continuing on, "It appears this is quite a chance for us all, provided we get off this planet."

"What do you mean?"

"Our actions here will be heavily scrutinized.", she replied, "Temporal Investigations might be called in concidering the Galaxy is here and aged. Those who act or do not act will reflect on our careers.  But all of that is moot if we cannot leave the planet."

"That's if they know we're here.  If the ship is as old as the analyses are saying, don't you think Temporal Investigations would have already been here to remove it to avoid contamination?"

"It is hard to say.", she said, "With the wormhole activity in the area, I wonder how sensitive long range sensors could be."

The tricorder clicked, signaling its completion on downloading the data.

"Excellent! Now we can see what the story is behind this craziness!"

He unplugged the power coupling, mounted the tricorder on a larger visual unit he'd retrieved from his kit-pack, and fired up the visuals.

It started out as a cloud of static. Crackling and humming, intermittent images coalesced and broke up on the miniature viewscreen.

Sound was degraded to nothing but shrieks, whistles, and wails. Bulz'I keyed them off. The portable unit had no way of filtering out interference.

Images drove past, in and out. Two starships passed over the screen, broke away. Blips of what were likely the ships fighter squad grew bright and disappeared. Tactical telemetry showed a massive impact, then a glare of light. Tactical readouts showed USS Nimitz, USS Pershing, and USS Hood as identified by registry codes on the display.

Next image that appeared was of the planet spiraling up at the ship, its lands from orbit sparse, green, and alive. Pure contrast to the fire that consumed it previously.

Then, the image cleared up, and the ground hurried up to them. Impact, as the image jarred, broke up, and fizzled. Technical readouts glared red as damage and injury reports rolled onto the screen.

Then, it jarred one last time and went dark.

"I think we'd best get Commander von Ernst to take a look at this...." And he tapped his commbadge to report.

Backpost (just after the ‘attack’ on the Galaxy, you know when Quinten blows up!)

‘Kingdom Come Fire Crystals, continued’

By
Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe
With NPC Lieutenant Jiiles

“I need a flash light in here.” Dhani shouted. Jiiles followed behind with a torch. The beam flashed round the room, from the glimpses of what the light touched they could see that the glass table had been shattered by a fallen support beam.

The beam had also hit an officer who lay dead in the middle of the ‘living room’ floor. This sight was not unfamiliar. They had had seen similar sights in almost every quarters that they had entered. But the whimpering sound made her double take.

“Over there.” She pointed through the dimming light. Jiiles obliged and flashed the torch in the direction she pointed. Dhani strained her eyes so that she could focus on what exactly the light touched. In the beam she could see the illumination from human flesh. Blood seemed to be a big facture in every quarter that they had gone into, and here was no exception. Jiiles turned to go assuming that the person was dead. Dhanishta almost followed but something pulled her back.

“Wait.” She called out whilst turning and climbing through the rubble, over beams and under others till she was by the window. Her bare leg brushed past something cold and wet. She stooped down to investigate.

“Flash light.” She called out.

For the past hour Jiiles and herself had been trawling through this deck. Their main intention had been to get to Engineering, they had both received the call for engineers to get to there, though Dhani was officially off duty, and since then had been fighting their way through rubble, bulkheads, fires, dead bodies of former colleagues and more just to get to that goal. But the devastation had been vast, epically throughout this deck, although she really had no comparison. And the casualties had been more. Those casualties still able to move and help out had done just that making there numbers swell as they searched the deck. Shouts echoed all around them, the other survivors; searching for more survivors.

As Jiiles approached the light danced around the room, its normally piercing beam dulled by the dust and debris in the air. Finally he was at her side and they could both see what had drawn Dhani back. Another officer.

This one was female. Dhanishta assumed that the other officer lying in the ‘living room’ was her husband, or partner. The falling beam had taken both of them out and separated them.

(Click…click. Click, click,click….)

Dhanishta felt the bile rising, struggling to keep it down she raised her hand to her mouth. But the smell of blood and the feeling of dried blood covering her hand, cracking along her skin as she moved only made it worse. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing and detaching herself from the situation. As she opened them she looked over the body once more, drinking in the seen with glazed eyes. She wanted to leave now, but her legs seemed to lock up, fixing her there. She fought with her emotions, how dare they just flick themselves back on? There was a reason that she had turned them off, and this was why! She felt Jiiles stand up beside her but sill she couldn’t move. That same faint sound brought her to look over the body one more time.

The woman’s dark hair lay across her shoulders shining in the light. Her head was bleeding; a small pool had formed under the left side of her face and streaked slightly across the deck. Her legs were stretched out, like she had tried to move, as were her arms.

It hit so suddenly; she hadn’t died instantly, she was, had been alive! Dhani recoiled quickly, falling on her rump. She sat there for a few minuets, unable to look at anything except the floor. She took several deep breaths, but they were actually shallow. Her chest tightened, breathing became strained and the deck beneath her blurred.

And then she saw it.

In-between the legs of the dead officer was a shoe, small; child size.

Jiiles saw it too. His flash light darted round the wreckage finally stopping on the woman’s hand. Small fingers were intertwined with the woman’s outstretched hand. Her hand was almost covered by the bulkhead. Jiiles and Dhani didn’t even need to communicate with each other as there minds seemed to be computing the data before them and reaching the same conclusions; there was a child under the beam! Again simultaneously they began to move, shifting the beam. Sweat pored down Dhanis face, mingling with the dried blood. She looked up and saw the sweat glistening in the dim light on Jiiles face, but she also saw more than that. His determination was engraved on his face, the horror too. He had great composer. Dhanishta was sure that without the Vulcan training she had received as a child, she would not be able to handle this situation as masterfully as he was, he had earned her respect.

Dhanishta knew that her strength alone would not lift the beam, and even though Jiiles was at the other end he could not do it alone. She focused again and simply ‘switched off’ the part of her mind that restricted her strength, similar to the technique of blocking out pain. The beam became easier to manoeuvre, though it was still a strain. Together they shuffled to one side and set the beam down. Dhani groaned with relief as she let go of the beam, even though she tried to block out the weight the damned thing was still heavy. And there she was…

~Feel, Dhani! Feel this. Don’t block this one! Feel it for all its worth~ an unknown voice echoed inside her mind.

She had to be no more than ten years old. Her little hand clung to her dead mothers, her eyes wide with terror. In the light Dhani could not tell if it was blood that covered the little girls body or the shadows.

Jiiles bent down shuffling closer to the child.

“I’ve got her!” Dhani almost shouted before she even realised that she had thought the sentence.

Jiiles looked up at Dhanishta, who was still standing as if rooted to the spot; a puzzled expression crossed his face.

“Get her to sick bay.” Dhani said gesturing at the dead woman.

His face contorted as he tried to understand what she meant, surely she knew that the woman was dead, after all she found her!

“Go!” Dhani said forcefully. Ignoring his condemning look she bent down next to the girl.

“Hey,” Dhani said softly, gently stroking the girls head. “My name is Dhani. This is Jiiles,” she said pointing towards her superior officer, “he’s gonna take your mom to sick bay okay?”

The girl stared blankly up at the two of them, however her hand gripped her mothers tighter.

“I’m gonna need you to let go of your mom.” Dhanishta told her gently, noticing the change in the girls grip; the child began to whimper.

Dhanishtas heart felt like exploding. “Here,” she continued, swallowing the lump forming in her throat, “take my hand.” Dhanishta wrapped her warm bloodied hand round the girls and the dead woman’s. She could feel the heat of the girls hand in her own and the coldness of her dead mothers. It was an eerie and slightly chilling experience to feel how fiercely the child clung to its mothers, even through death. Dhani wondered why she had never felt that way about her own mother, was there ever a time when she didn’t ever want to let go of her mother? If there was she couldn’t remember. It filled her with such sadness, what had she been missing and why?

Still whimpering the girl shifted her grip on to Dhanishtas hand, her grip was almost as fierce as it was whilst gripping her dead mothers. Dhanishta felt a serge of happiness at this break through, however small. Her eyes welled up. Blinking the tears away she looked up at Jiiles; who had been watching the whole exchange,

“Now.” She said giving him a look that verged on being a glare.

She wasn’t sure if Jiiles truly understood what she was doing, but she couldn’t explain herself to him at this moment, he would have to trust her. Jiiles regarded Dhani for a moment as if her were trying to figure out what she was up to, and without further question he swiftly picked up the dead woman and carried her out. In that one moment Jiiles gained Dhanis trust. She turned back to the girl.

Picking up the flash light Jiiles had left she shone the torch over the girl, the shadows were blood! The girls leg was bleeding, a large gash from knee to ankle. Flashing the torch round some more she looked for anything she could use as a bandage.

Dhanis top became another inch shorter!

As she wrapped the girls leg she began to whimper again. “Shhh” Dhani said stroking the girls hair, “It’s okay. We’re gonna get you to sick bay too, get you fixed up, good as new.” She said trying her best to sound upbeat.

“I want my mummy.” The girl crocked out as tears filled her eyes.

~well it’s a breakthrough of a sort~ Dhani though as the girl began to wail ~at least she’s talking!~

“Hey, hey, hey!” she said her maternal instincts taking over. Pulling the girl to her she hugged her, “What’s all the crying about?” wiping the girls tears away she pulled back and looked at her, “I’m gonna need your help.” Dhani began, “I have a very important job for you.”

The girls wailing turned to whimpering and then to hic-ups as her attention caught, “What… hic…. job?” she asked.

“Well, first things first. You take hold of this flash light,” Dhani said handing the torch over, “we’re gonna need that to see where we’re going.” She paused a moment, “And are you gonna tell me your name, or do I have to guess?”

The little girl took the torch and flashed it around, “Ermm…Guess!” She said as a grin creped across her little face.

“You know,” Dhani said slipping her arm underneath the girl and picking her up, “I had a feeling you would say that!”

"The Last Boy Scout Part 5"

by
Turan Trelar 19 year old Quentite boy

Time: About 3 years after the catastrophe

The way up the dune doubled by the sinking sand under Turan's feet. Turan turned around carefully balancing not to loose foothold. Now after a walk of an hour beyond a warm morning sun Turan felt pretty exhausted. Tumbling down the dune would certainly be the end of the expedition at least for the day. Having climbed the wrong dune wouldn't be better.

Turan aimed the entrance of his cavern over the tower of his windmill. Both were on a row. At least this was the right dune. Turan opened his water bottle and drank a refreshing sip. He wondered what was waiting for him over the top. Was there really something waiting for him or did he take the hardship for nothing? Turan closed his bottle and continued on his way.

Almost on top the dune the young Quentinarish boy scout finally found a hint on the sources of the reflection which drove him to start the expedition. Just a step ahead lead two parallel lines of oval prints toward the rocky hills. Now, Turan knew he was not alone. There was at least one other humanoid alive on the planet. But was it a Quentite or an alien? From the footprints, Turan wasn't able to tell.

'First Contact' or 'Peas with you!'

JP by

Turan Trelar - 19 year old Quentite boy
and a Galaxy survivor

Time: About 3 years after the catastrophe

Turan knelt down. Now after the terrain changed from deep sand to just dust covered rocks the footprints were much clearer - as Rogan, his track reading instructor would have said more readable. The footprints were a little bit smaller than his. Whoever set these footprints was about a foot smaller than a Quentite and had about half of his weight.

From the partially worn out profile Turan guessed the shoes had already walk a rather long way. He obviously was following an alien, more likely a survivor than a member of a rescue team.

The good shape the footprints were in told Turan that the alien was not far away, probably five or ten minutes maximum.

Did he say five minutes? A noise gave Turan a start. A shadow moved over the ground nearby. Carefully Turan crept behind a rock and watched the shadow waiting for the one who was mounted to its foot end.

The shadow grew bigger as the 'alien' circled the rock looking for anything. For three years she had been searching, looking, waiting. It seemed pointless but still relentlessly she continued, looking at everything twice, and then again...

Turan was glad. All his assumptions were true. He saw a long haired person wearing the same clothes as the crashed saucer's crew although these clothes looked much more worn out. Turan really faced a survivor of the saucer crash, different to the other crewmen this humanoid had an interesting dark pattern on its forehead and shoulders. What did it mean? Was it a kind of camouflage? A tribal tattoo? Fur markings? Turan stared at the humanoid not knowing what to do next.

Turan got up from behind his rock slowly, really slowly.

And there they stood face to face, one of the things she had been looking for three years. And she couldn't think of anything to say! She wondered for a long moment if she could speak, after all she had had no one to talk to for years. The only thing she could think about was his height! ~boy he was huge~

Turan was the first to break the almost unbearable silence. Slowly, his left hand moved into his backpack, produced a Malo-fruit. Then he stretched his arm toward the stranded astronaut and offered the fruit to him - or was it a female? Not of importance for the moment. With an ugly accent, Turan said his first alien words:

'Peas with you'

She looked at the offering and then at him. The words he spoke made no sense. Was he talking Federation Standard? Or something else? Had she been stranded here for so long that she didn't recognize the language she had grown up with? A confused look crossed her face as she tried to work out what 'it' had said to her, and what on earth she was going to say back!

Turan was disappointed. Obviously, the astronaut didn't seem to understand him. What was wrong? Did this thing he got from the wreck teach him the wrong language? Or did he just pronounce the words wrong? Turan took the alien gadget out of his backpack, switched it on and tried again, this time in Quentinarish. "Peace with you" came from the gadget in best Federation Standard.

A large smile of recognition broke out across her face and she nodded enthusiastically. Coughing slightly to clear her throat she tested her vocal chords. 'An' E-hum. And with you!' she managed.

"Shootout at the Quentite Corral, Part 3"

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

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

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Bridge

"Hard to starboard!"

The Romulan patrician's sharp, commanding voice rang out across the tense bridge. There was perhaps two seconds of hesitation, the slightest movement in M'Kantu's neck suggesting he would query the call, before training took over from instinctual mistrust, and he rolled the hulking starship as fast as she would turn.

Not fast enough.

The deck plates rumbled violently and the bridge lighting went down immediately. The Galaxy was spun wildly as the Hood's severed nacelle exploded with massive force as it caught the stardrive section a glancing blow. For one long moment, the faces of the embattled bridge crew were lit only by the sickly glow of the consoles and the hellish glow of the red alert lights, before the lights came back up.

"Report!" yelled M'Kantu, struggling to regain attitude control. The ship had been hurled across space like a child's toy.

"The Hood collided with USS Nimitz," tr'Khellian replied, his eyes flicking rapidly over the confusing mass of data scrolling past on his crowded display. "It appears the Nimitz deliberately blocked the Hood's attack run. We were struck by resultant debris." His hands flashed across the tactical arch. It was astounding how quickly he had acquired expertise with this foreign technology. "The Hood's port nacelle."

"Damage report," Cassius Henderson's voice echoed across the bridge communication system. Hull breach, deck 41 and 42, shields down in that section. Casualty reports are still coming in. They seem to be light, as those are crew quarters, and the crew are at stations or in shelters." He was puzzled. DeSoto was the known element, and his mind was racing to think why a a captain that he'd heard Admiral deMercereau describe as an ally had been the one to snap. It didn't make sense.

"I recommend an immediate strike on the Hood before they can recover. Their weapons and propulsion systems are still online and their fighter squadron is rallying for another strike-run." Savar had already pre-programmed a devastating attack pattern into his console as Henderson had spoken. Whilst the Nimitz staggered and licked its wounds, this was a fine opportunity to dispatch one enemy from the fray. A sustained blast from the phaser cannon, coupled with secondary clinical strikes on the generators from the forward phaser banks, would cripple what remained of the aging vessel's shields, and a swift volley of photon torpedoes would remove Hood from the equation - if not from existence entirely. "We must act *now*, before they recover," he repeated, urging the human Captain to react as he would. This dovish sitting on the sidelines had to end immediately if they were to stand any chance of survival. The odds had suddenly shifted in their advantage thanks to the folly of the Nimitz's commander. They had to roll the dice, now.

"No, not the Hood, Sub-Commander." Daren shook his head once, feeling the pain that the Hood's CO must be experiencing at what he'd done to his proud old ship - and the knowledge that he was about to do more. "We hit the Pershing. Ms. Pennington, status on those missiles?"

"With the movement of all vessels, they're in range. The Quentite vessel has locked onto USS Nimitz and is preparing to fire. Estimate that they will in a little more than a minute," Pennington said. The Nimitz' desperate move to block the Hood had put them in range of the Quentite missiles. "They're locking onto the Nimitz' unshielded section, where Hood struck. Whoever is running tactical over there is no idiot. Nimitz is rolling to make it harder, but their steering is sluggish."

Sub-Commander tr'Khellian looked up from his console. "I have plotted an attack run on the Hood which ought to draw the Pershing onto an attack vector to intercept us. We will divert the fighters to add to the distraction. When the Pershing is in pursuit, we will halt suddenly, the Pershing will continue on its course, and we will concentrate sustained fire on its poorly-defended aft. If we can score a direct hit with the phaser cannon, and the fighters are able to get shots in, we ought to be able to take their shields down and destroy their bridge. The loss of the command deck will cripple the small vessel." The Romulan's eyes flashed wolfishly, his hands poised over the tactical controls to initiate this deadly scheme.

"Target their propulsion systems only, Sub-Commander," frowned the Captain.

"Their weapons -"

"The propulsion systems," barked M'Kantu, cutting the Romulan off as he turned back to the helm, loading in the vectors tr'Khellian had transmitted from Tactical, and transmitting the necessary orders to the remaining fighters. "Enough blood has been shed already, don't you think?" On the big screen, the fighters peeled off and started their feint against the crippled Hood.

The exchange officer barely stifled a sneer as he adjusted his strike plan with a few taps on his vast console. As far as he was concerned, the situation was completely insane: the very idea of ships from the same fleet engaging each other in ballet-esque combat was frankly absurd - the whole situation was a mockery of discipline and order. He had signed up for this exchange program to salvage his career, not to die in a pointless mutiny. Survival meant grasping any opportunity to gain any edge, and dealing mercilessly with opponents in their weakest moments. Suppose, against all reason, the Galaxy were able to disable all three ships. What then? More ships would come. How long would this battered, hulking, disgraced flagship be able to hold out? Better to strike hard, to strike fast, to strike smart - and leave no one to tell tales.

"Ms. Pennington, I need those missiles now," Daren called out crisply, executing the helm maneuvers he'd loaded in. "Use your Pattern Epsilon and bracket the Pershing on my mark. Sub-Commander, hit them as soon as the missiles detonate. We're only going to get one shot at this, people, so let's make it count."

"Quentite ship fired five seconds ago. I have six missiles in suspended transporter beams. Shield overwhelm on your mark," Rima replied, glancing over to Henderson for reassurance. He nodded, and she returned her eyes to the keys that would beam the missiles to their targets.

"On my mark, Ms. Pennington." Daren checked the main screen, waited for two heartbeats as ships shifted position. "And.... now, Ms. Pennington."

"Firing!"

On the main viewscreen, six flashes of light overwhelmed all sight, and the viewer darkened so as not to blind the bridge crew. When it returned, the Pershing was limping in space, it's shields overwhelmed by the energy of the blast. From his position across the bridge, Henderson nodded to Pennington. She'd played her part spectacularly, though he doubted there was a future after this.

On the main bridge, the Romulan at Tactical was bent over his console, his eyes narrowed, his hands, which were trembling slightly with the combined effect of fatigue and adrenaline, moving jerkily across the console as he picked out specific targets on the Pershing's hull. His time studying the sensor data he'd captured from the Valiant class vessel he had seen the day he boarded the Galaxy had not been in vain. A small but powerful spray of photon torpedoes arced out from the fore and ventral launchers, smashing into the Pershing's exposed hull with a series of bright explosions that tore through the cruiser's ablative armour. Another volley, launched seconds after the first, the torpedoes' yields lowered for precision, penetrated to the primary hull, causing a bright blossom of an explosion and flinging the battered vessel across space.

"Damage report on the Pershing," Daren snapped as his hands moved across the helm and sent the Galaxy wheeling in a tight turn that looped them past the disabled Pershing and back towards the Nimitz.

"Propulsion is nil, sir. We severed both of their nacelles at the pylon, and took out approximately 88% of their impulse engine emitters. If he tries to move, he'll blow the rest of them. Pershing is powering down," Henderson said. Smart move, Escalante. Better to know when you've been outfoxed. The smaller ship's simply couldn't take the pounding, especially when bracketed into place by 6 nuclear missiles.

"Very good job, Sub-Commander, Ms. Pennington." Daren took a breath and let it out slowly. Start separating those fighters, Sub-Commander. Use the tractor beams like Admiral Hoth was if you have to, but get them out of contact with each other. Start recovery operations for the ejected pilots immediately - ours and theirs. We'll sort them out after they're all safe. Mr. Henderson, see if the Quentites are willing to be reasonable now - if not, then we're going to have to disable them as well." He looked around the Bridge, and then added, "Mr. Bartlett, open a channel to the Nimitz. I want to speak to Admiral Hoth."

"Aye, sir," a somewhat shaky Bartlett answered.

******

USS Galaxy
Secondary Hull
Deck 8
Battle Bridge

Turning to Pennington, Cassius Henderson got up from his command chair and crossed the cramped battle bridge to look over her shoulder. She was breathing hard, and he could see beads of sweat on her forehead. She didn't say anything, just locked her eyes on the arch.

"Rima? You okay?" he asked, reaching over and touching her shoulder. The younger woman flinched noticeably. He frowned. At least with Hoth and M'Kantu talking, he had a moment to deal with whatever Rima was going through.

"Yeah, sure, Cass," she replied, trying to brush him off. Turthfully... She felt weak in her knees. The whole combat had been draining, and she felt lightheaded. Dangerously lightheaded. "I'm fine. It's nothing." She reached up and wiped her brow.

That proved to be a mistake, for her arms, which had been locked on the console, had been what was supporting her body. Without them, she collapsed under her own weight, letting out an alarmed squawk as Henderson narrowly reacted to catch and lower her to the deck.

"Okay, so I lied?" she shrugged as he dabbed at her brow with a cloth the he had gotten from god knows where. Rima hated having him fuss over her. He was several years older than she was, and her direct superior to boot. And she'd just performed exactly how he wanted her too. Which sucked... Since that was exactly how her father wanted her too as well.... And now she was thinking too much.

"You're dehydrated, Rima, dangerously so. Here, let me help you down to the command chair. You can relax there, and I'll take tactical," he said, looping his arms under her and picking her up. "You've done a great job. Now just take it easy."

"Gee, thanks, Cass," Rima managed to mutter before he settled her into the command chair and handed her a water bottle from the bridge replicator. She watched him head back up to tactical before taking a sip of the water and closing her eyes, exhausted.

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Bridge

A moment passed, and then the screen switched over to the interior of the Nimitz's Bridge. Damage Control was going on in the background, and Jurgen Hoth's normally perfect uniform was marked by smoke and had a torn sleeve. "Yes, Daren?" he asked without delay. Behind him, the Nimitz's captain looked on coolly.

"Pershing and Hood are out of action, sir. You've lost your shields across your starboard arc after the collision, and we've got pilots who are running out of time after ejecting." He paused, and then forged on, hoping Hoth would agree. "I've started rescue operations for all the ejected pilots, sir. If you're willing to stand your ships down, I will do likewise. Between the two of us, I think we can get Hood and Pershing stabilized until a Fleet Tender can be sent out."

Hoth looked at him for a moment, turned off-screen and checked something, and then turned back. "Agreed," he nodded.

Daren felt the tension flow out of him and he nodded back. He'd found a way to stop the tiger and get off. "Stand us down, Commander Henderson. Sub-Commander, power the weapons down and stand by to commence rescue operations on Hood and Pershing once we get those pilots aboard."

The Romulan's jaw dropped, and he gawped wordlessly at the African, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Daren turned back to the screen. "Once we get things under control, Admiral..."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes, Daren," Hoth said quietly. "You're not going anywhere, are you?"

"No, sir," Daren returned with a sad smile. "Nowhere at all."

Recovering, Sub-Commander tr'Khellian severed the comm and turned his burning eyes towards the Captain. "You cannot be serious!" he cried. He pressed his hand to his right temple, where a sudden sharp pain had flared up, at the site of the wound he had suffered when Quentin had been ravaged. His hand was cold, a result of poor circulation, and it helped numb the pain. His eyelids flickered for a moment as the pain subsided. He had been on duty for far too long, and under considerable stress thanks to M'Kantu's highly questionable tactics. "We have the upper hand here, and you want us to stand down our shields? All of those ships are damaged, but all three still have fully functional weapons systems - they could fire upon us at *any* time. This is merely a ploy on their part. A volley of quantum torpedoes from the Nimitz at the site of the hull breach could tear this ship apart!"

Daren shook his head at the paranoiac manning his tactical station. "It's over, Sub-Commander. Stand down our defences."

The Romulan bristled at this, lowering his hand from his forehead and glaring at the African. Against all the odds, the Galaxy had managed to survive a battle in which she was outgunned and outclassed, and now M'Kantu wanted to put them all at risk again. He made a tight, exasperated gesture with his head. "At least, Captain, withdraw us to a position out of their firing range, so we have a fighting chance should they attack again. I surely don't need to remind you that this confrontation was caused by their trickery in the first place, and that their fighters fired the first shots." He trailed off, looking down as his console chirped. The last of the Nimitz's fighters had stood down, and were moving off. Rex was rallying what remained of his squadron to form a protective screen in front of the Galaxy. The rescue teams had reported to the launch bays and were ready to be scrambled. He sighed, looking back to the African CO with weariness in his eyes, but still with suspicion in his voice. "We are ready to commence rescue operations."

"Rocks of Ages"

By
Commander Rebecca Von Ernst
Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan

Location: Quentin, Class 1-A directive site (threat unknown)

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

"Hey!" Matthew Corgan tried in vain to hail the cute redhead he saw on the streets of St. Paul. He was weaving through the mid afternoon crowd. Finals were the furest from his mind, and though the tactical test was going to be an unholy b*tch to conquer with Corgan's low marks in such a field, the stress of the final tests was the furest thing from the senior cadet's mind. It was spring, soon to be summer. And what does a man do when he and his classmates want to hit the largest shopping mall in the world?

Check out the girls, of course! And a particular foxy redhead, appearing to be a civilian and his age, was a prime target. "Hey!" He yelled for the girl's attention, "Hey! Wait up!" His sentence didn't get finished. Maybe it was the heckling of his classmates at the food court, or the fact that it was busy as hell in the shopping district, but senior cadet Matthew Liam Noel Corgan couldn't see past that scrumptious head of flaming hair, or that shapely, curvacious ass.

It also meant he couldn't see a fist sized rock hell bent on intercepting the poor lad. The rock made a sickening, smacking sound as it presented Matt Corgan with a brilliant shiner. The force was enough to send the young, amorous man reeling, his back to the floor, his head spinning, and his eyesocket blazing like hellfire. "Owwww... what the f**k was that?!" He looked around, confused. His classmates, seeing the rock come from nowhere, thought it was an elaborate prank from a computer genius with a mini teleporter. Seeing the comedic and tragic way their bragadocious classmate crashed and burned on a pick up attempt was too much. Cadet Wildman was spewing milk out of his nose as he attempted to contain his amusement, and Cadets Yuri and D'nar were doubled over.

A small, delicate tap on Matt's shoulder snapped him out of his hot, flushing embarrasment. "Hey, what was the big idea trying to..."

Matt Corgan stopped immediately. He was staring down at another cadet, one he never saw before, a second year cadet whom was petite but beautiful. The light from the overhead lamps illuminated her face like an angel, her olive skin all the brighter so. Though his eye was starting to swell, he could see enough to tell she was amazing.

"Hello?" She spoke in an American accent. "Are you ok?"

Matt Corgan looked up at his angel, mouth agape, and a hand covering his black eye. "Uhhh?" The angel extended a hand to the wounded Cadet. As Matt Corgan's shipmates watched in disbelief. The angel spoke down to him, and said, "I am Cadet Maria Ramirez. Whom might you be?"

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

Back in the... future, the result of said rock related engagement was looking for the indirect cause of his existence, all without knowing a damn thing. He was more concerned about the resulting spacial phenomenom... or portal, or magic omnipotent being from the dimension of 'whatever' whom was toying with the universe like a disgruntled redneck with a out of focus colour TV.

James Lionel Corgan found himself at the unknown object, a stone archway that was plain and unadorned. Beside the pillars and arches was a hunched over figure of an elfish redhead, lobbing a rock as casually as if it was her duck pond back in Minnesota. "Hey!" James joked, "Hey! Wait up!"

Rebecca turned to face James with a thouroghly bored expression on her face. There was only so much of 'Trapped on Planet-X' syndrome one could take before it started to wear thin. "This is supposed to be a restricted area James." she said without much enthusiasm. "HAve yourself taken out and shot."

"Aye aye, sir!" James mocked a salute, "And by the way, shouldn't you be out of this area too? As far as I know, playing with god knows what that is is going to trigger armageddon."

With a sigh, Rebecca flopped back onto the flat boulder she was perched upon and considered the twinkling lights above her. "No nevermind. . . .you can execute yourself later.. . . and me while you're at it. Until then I can use the company."

"Hey, no problem." James plopped himself on a rock next to Rebecca, resting his rifle on his knees, "By the way, what are you doing here? Besides flirting with an unknown object that could or could not endanger us all, that is? When I detected someone here, I couldn't get a precise read on who it was... so naturally I had to check it out."

"Why?" Rebecca stuck out her tongue, idly sampling the dry Quentine air. . ."Because I'm bored out of my skull. How long do you think we should wait her before calling it a day. I could use a shower. . . . . .and frankly so could you Security boy."

"Oh that?" James sniffed. He did smell body odor. "Sure, but all we have here is dirt. Besides, I can't call it a day. I'm staying up to stare at the funny rocks." James jested, "Somebody's gotta protect this thing before some stupid ensign walks into it. By the way, I have watches posted outside this area, myself included."

James pointed to the rock arch, "You mind telling me what the hell that is and why it's so damn dangerous? I hate being left in dark like this, and so do the officers I had to threaten to keep out of this area."

Rebecca prpped herself up on her elbows and studied the glowing archway of stones before them. "This?" she replied, "This is a genuine Guardien of Forever. . .or Guardien of Next week or something. . . .They were pretty vague on details in Command school."

James shrugged, finding it ironic that she knew little more than he did, "You think your details are vague? The gist of what I was told at the academy is to trust the commanding officer when they say it's dangerous. So... do you know what it does?"

"Beats me. . . .It makes pretty sparkles if you toss rocks into it, but other than that. . . .who knows? Why dont you ask it what it does? " she said sarcastically.

James' heart seized. ~"She threw rocks at it? A class 1-A that could kill us all and she throws rocks at it?!?!?"~

"A QUESTION !!!!" The deep rumbling basso of a disembodied voice literally shook the ground around the two officers causing them to leap to their feet in surprise. "FOR UNTOLD EONS I HAVE WAITED FOR A QUESTION!"

"What the f**k?!" Corgan snapped up his rifle and aimed it at the archway. Though he saw the silliness in taking a hostile action towards a disembodied voice, one couldn't be too careful.

"G. . . g .g.great googly-moogly!!" Rebeca stutterd in open-mouthed amazement. "The pile of rocks is talking to us!!"

"Yeah..." James lowered his rifle, "Kind of figured that out when asked us to ask a question. Say...."

"A QUESTION!!!!" The disembodied voice pounded, "ASK ME A QUESTION!!!! YOU SEEK KNOWLEDGE!!! I SEEK TO GIVE YOU ANSWERS!!!!"

He turned his attention to the voice in the clouds, "You want me to ask you a question... ok! I'll start with an easy one... did we p*ss you off by throwing rocks into you?"

The guardian paused. Its unshakable, godlike voice faltered. "Ummm.... I CANNOT BE ANGERED BY THE ACTIONS OF A FOOLISH MORTAL! I CARE NOT IF THE TIMELINE IS DISRUPTED! NOW ASK ME A QUESTION WITH SIGNIFICANCE!"

"Huh... well, what do you know." James hummed, "Becca, you want to ask the Guardian of Next Week something? Perhaps... why the hell we're looking at our own ship... why it's been destroyed for a half dozen decades? Because i'm quite curious."

"Yes..." Her attempt to stay businesslike faltered; the godlike diety in control of all time was overwhelming, even for Rebecca Von Ernst. "Tell us?" She added a peep. "Tell us what happened to our ship and why it looks like it has been destroyed for decades." "THE ECOLOGICAL CHANGES OF THIS PLANET HAS CAUSED THIS TIME DISCONTINUITY." The Guardian answered, "YOU SEE THE FUTURE, THE PLANET'S CLIMATE HAS STABILIZED, YOUR SHIP LONG DEAD. IT WAS DESTROYED, AS WELL AS OTHER VESSELS, DURING COMBAT." "What other vessels?" James snapped. "USS PERSHING, USS HOOD, USS NIMITZ, AS WELL AS THE QUENTITE WARP VESSEL."

"Holy sh*t..." James interrupted the Guardian. "I didn't want to believe it... but we saw it in the sky. It was friendly fire alright. But the Galaxy?"

"IT CRASH LANDED. ALL HANDS PERISHED." Rebecca and James allowed the answers to sink in. Rebecca stuttered, "Ummm... Mr.Guardian? Whhaatt... about... us? How did we get here?"

"YOU WENT THROUGH THE DISCONTINUITY, AND TRAVELLED INTO THE FUTURE. THE DISCONTINUITY SURROUNDS THE ENTIRE PLANET."

James was satisfied with the answer, as disturbing as it may be. He nodded his solemn approval. "I see. Can it be prevented? Please tell me it can be prevented."

The guardian paused. "YES. YOU DO NOT HAVE MUCH TIME. LEAVE THIS PLANET NOW AND RETURN TO YOUR SHIP. THERE, YOU HAVE A CHANCE." "That's... it?" Rebecca added.

"THAT IS ALL." The Guardian said, his booming voice keeping the two Starfleet officers two feet tall in comparison, "NEGOTIATIONS BREAK DOWN DUE TO MISUNDERSTANDINGS... AND A ROCK TO THE HEAD." Once she heard about the rock, Rebecca gave a nervous gulp. "Relax, Becks. I won't rat you out." James whispered beside her. The Guardian started again, the two officers recoiled in shock, "BESIDES WHICH, THIS PLANET HAS NOT MUCH TIME! QUENTITE'S TECHTONIC PLATES ARE BECOMING MORE UNSTABLE. THE PLANET WILL BE HIT BY EARTHQUAKES, AND YOU MUST LEAVE THIS PLANET IN ORDER TO SURVIVE."

The revelation of impending doom startled the young farmgirl. Commander Von Ernst had one last order to give. "Oh noodles. We have to leave..."

"Way ahead of you, Commander." James was already turned around and ready to leave, his hand within a centimetre of his comm-badge. "I'll give the evac order and we'll have this mess sorted out before lights out. Well, it's been nice talking to you guardian, but as you say, we must leave this planet. I'm glad we could... give you our questions. But one more, please."

"YOU MAY."

"These earthquakes... does that mean you will perish?"

It was a whole moment before the Guardian answered. "MY TIME HAS COME." "I'm... sorry to hhhear that." Rebecca slinked, "Thanksss?"

"NO, THANK YOU FOR YOUR QUESTIONS. MY DYING MOMENTS HAVE BEEN MADE WORTHWHILE." "Ummm... thanks." Chirped Rebecca, "b.bb.bb..bye!"

"YOU SEEK MORE ANSWERS!" The voice boomed.

Both officers looked to each other, confused. James was the one to break the awkward silence. "I have a question... but it has nothing to do with our current predicament. It would be useless to ask you, Guardian. It would be like getting the cheat codes to my entire life. And you know what? I could care less if my life becomes predictable because of it. Call me cowardly or afraid, but... I don't think my heart could take any bad news you can give me. So forgive me if I refrain."

"I SEEK QUESTIONS. YOU SEEK ANSWERS." The voice insisted.

Corgan blushed, "I'm tempted... but i'm not sure if I can ask." His decision was already made. For the sake of helping himself and a lonely diety, he asked, "Rebecca, this question is of a personal nature. I don't want you to hear it. If you insist on staying, I will leave the question. All I ask is that you trust me when I say I won't destroy the timeline asking what I have to ask."

"Ssssure." Rebecca answered, "Go ahead. D..d..d..don't take too long."

When Rebecca was out of sight, James could only look at the archway with a confounded look on his face. His stomach coiled and his nerves frayed. It was not as if he was trying to manipulate the future, or figure out next week's winning numbers for the Ferengi Latinum Luck Lottery (now worth 25 million bars of gold pressed latinum). There was no need for amassing riches, and James was afraid of messing with the past much like a person with a precarious hold on a ming vase.

"Guardian of Forever..." James solemnly asked, his guilt mounting, "I.... must know..."

"QUESTION ME!" The guardian bellowed.

James was having second thoughts. As he predicted, his heart was at the breaking point, seriously questioning whether his fragile ego could take the answer he could not like. "Tell me... is there such a thing as people... meant to be together?"

The guardian pondered, and answered, "YOU ARE REFERRING TO A LIFETIME PARTNERSHIP BETWEEN TWO SENTIENT BEINGS!"

He steeled his resolve. "Yeah, something like that. Well... does she exist?"

The guardian paused. "DO YOU WANT TO HEAR THE ANSWER!?!"

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

~"Just as predicted... my heart couldn't take it."~

Slouching as he left the Guardian, James' sorrow etched face sank it's lowest since the news of his parents death.

The answers were so close, and James couldn't stand the fact that his will wasn't strong enough to take it!

"Rebecca?" James called, "I'm ready to go. Lets notify the away team. It's time to leave this planet."

Dr. Janelle Reynolds
CMO

Janelle couldn't look at another dead body especially since she knew a lot of them. She had time to think about things other than her dead comrades. This whole thing made her question her mortality. She couldn't stand the fact that there, she had died, alone. She didn't know which shook her up the most.

Janelle took a walk to clear the cob webs but everything was a reminder no matter where she looked or where she went. She'd do anything right now to get off this god-forsaken place and go back to her ship, her timeline, etc. She hoped that when the others returned, they could give them some good news like, "We're leaving now." She only dream.

(Backpost)

"Testing Dangerous Waters"

By
Lieutenant Eleanor Pharrel
Lieutenant Commander Rose Isis MacAllen

Location: Ten Forward

Ten Forward was unusually deserted. The bar was empty, save for the mandatory late shift bartender whom has to show no matter the crowd. The lights were dimmed in the room, save for a few bright reading lamps and the soft glow of the neon tubes fixed in the walls and bar. The replicators were shut off, the insides turned to dark pits.

Lieutenant Eleanor Pharrel rushed into Ten Forward as if she was in the most dire of emergencies.

"Foodfoodfoodfoodfoodfoodfoodfoodfood...." Her mind raced its one track metronome. The fact that she spent hours in sickbay after the Galaxy's accident was the furthest thing on her mind. She didn't want to repeat the memory of being trapped under a bulkhead, or being phasered out by a stranger. Recalling the boredom of treatment or the sting of gasses burning her lungs was not on top of her to do list. She wanted food. She was starving. And now she wanted that annoying, nagging, grumbling sensation in her stomach to cease it's constant bickering! She activated the replicator. Its lights snapped on, bathing the white skinned, brunette human in its glow.

"Salmon Wellington, with a side of string beans de la creme, on a bed of mushrooms... a piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream... and a glass of zinfandel wine." She calmly requested, keeping her excitement on edge. She wanted to eat! The replicator couldn't replicate fast enough.

The excitement was building.

Food! Sweet, blessed food! Stomach calming, hunger fighting food!

=/\="Request denied. Replicators on rations only."=/\= The computer quashed any hopes of her getting a decent meal. Her face fell, a sad, dejected look on her face. =/\="Replicating closest ration pack match."=/\=

"No... no no... stop..." She begged. She damned starfleet for making the replicators a little bit too good. The replicator swirled and spat out its sorry excuse for a nutritional suppliment before she could belay the command. "Oh no... now i'm stuck with it. I thought rations went the way of Captain Brhode...."

She scooped up the silver packet of 'breaded fish' with another squishy, gel like package labeled 'mush. sauce' and a packet called, 'freeze dried stringbeans'. Then she grabbed a canteen of water, the small tin used to mix the items together, and searched for a table. "Sigh... why me? Get hit by a big piece of metal, almost burned, almost choked to death on smoke, and I didn't know who saved me... and then this. My day is terrible."

Rose was sitting with her older daughter Karyn Shinta MacAllen while she sitting in her hovercraft, the young three year old was getting more beautiful and outspoken by each passing year.

Karyn who was dress in an red Betazoid dress with her dark brown hair in ponytails and red bows is making an mess with her greenbean. The young Betazoid girl started to grid the beans into the metal dish.

"Honey don't do that, please eat for mommy." Rose said while looking up from her PADD that she was reading about the mission coming up.

Thank the gods of her people that Kay is watching her newborn twins, James and Diana of course her young Asst. Chief have been depressed since her boyfriend Klaus and herself came back to Risa.

"Que?" Lieutenant Pharrel mumbled. She didn't notice the presence of a young woman and her child. The thought of food must have blocked anyone else out of her thoughts. But seeing the woman and her child, the child seating on a seemingly alien hovering device, tugged at her heart strings. She saw the child fussing and playing with her food. ~"Know how you feel, kid. I don't like the green bean rations either."~ She thought, giggling and sympathizing with the kid, ~"She's a cutie... I wonder what's with the hoverchair? Should I go ask? Hmmmm... i'm sure it's harmless to ask...."~

"Ohiyo!" The brunette Lieutenant waved to the blue suited Lieutenant, "I didn't see you there! Mind if I join?"

Both Rose and Karyn looked up from their dish of food and looked at each other for an few seconds then looked back towards the young woman as Rose simple replied, "Of course."

"Ahhh... happy!" She beamed. Happy, but unsure, Lieutenant Pharrel slid a seat to their table, sitting across from the child and the officer. While humming a happy tune, she ripped open her ration packs, and added water to the container trays full of dried food. As soon as the water rehydrated the questionably edible foodstuffs, she cut a piece and took an experimental bite.

The breaded fish had an unfamiliar, bitter taste.

"Eeehhhhccc....." She grimaced, and then smiled, "Hiya kiddo! What's your name?"

The little girl laughs, "Karyn!" she yelled in happiness.

"Karyn... hmmmm... that's Terran. You got a middle name, sweetie?"

"Shinta"

She looked at the child, puzzled, "Shinta? Hey... that's Bajoran! Isn't that cool or what? You don't look Bajoran... or even half bajoran. You're a human, aren't ya?"

"No, my daughter is Betazoid and so am I."

Lieutenant Pharrel immediately shut her trap. Sometimes she caught her own overinquisitive nature. And on rare occasions, inquisitiveness was interpreted as a type of ignorance. A common mistake among her type, but the answer she didn't expect. ~"Betazoids? Ohhh..."~

"Wow... talk about multicultural!" She laughed off her initial nervousness, scratching her head as she tried to stomach another bite of her food. "Where are my manners? I'm Eleanore Pharrel. But call me Elli. I like it better."

"I'm Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen, Chief of Archology."

"Well I... I... ummm..." She wasn't good at social graces, "Lieutenant Eleanor Pharrel, Computer Core Specialist." She offered to shake hands. Rose accepted, "Charmed!"

Lieutenant Pharrel let go of the Chief Archeology Officer's hand. There was a strange silence. Pharrel braved another bite of her food. "I have kids at home too... well... my parents, anyways. I'm the oldest... youngest is six. Funny, isn't it? Well, i'm from Earth... naturally, if you can tell the accent. You're a Betazoid? Wow... that must be so cool to read minds and whatnot. But enough about me, what about you... whoops... I took care of that, didn't I?" She giggled nervously.

The young woman try to smile but she don't like the young officer because there was something about her but all she can do is be nice to her, "Yes you did Lt." Rose simple replied while looking down at her PADDS.

"I want to visit Uncle James!" Karyn yelled while still playing with her food.

"James?" She asked. The name seemed to trigger something else.

The incident on deck 6 was hazy, but she remembered hearing names. Rapid fire, like acknowledging rank and authority, the usual stuff to come out of Starfleet mouths. She heard a commander... a commander...

"Corgan?" She uttered. ~"Wasn't there a security officer named James Corgan?"~

Rose's eyes started to shine when little Karyn spoke of James's name...it was like being in love.

"Don't worry my little daughter I will take you and your brother and sister to see your Uncle James."

"Say..." Lieutenant Pharrel asked, "Is Uncle James... Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan?"

The young woman looked at the younger Lieutenant and simple replied, "Yes, his my children godfather."

"Get out?!?! Really?" She whooped in surprise, "Of all the people to save me from deck six, it's Commander Crazy Corgan of security? Oh my god..." Lieutenant Pharrel was close to hyperventilating, "We've been getting messages from him for months about the glitches in the security net... he's the guy who kept bugging us about the security net all these months? Geez... I have to be rescued by my department's arch nemesis... great."

"Lovely."

"Yeah..." Elli hummed, "Lovely indeed..." Her mind raced. It was the same person she envisioned as a gung-ho, thick plated, intelligence deficient, knuckle scraping redneck with a photonic double barreled shotgun straddled to his hulking shoulders, highway trooper sunglasses the size of viewscreens and rims as gold as the sun it reflected.

The chief of security wasn't a 'good-ol'-boy' like she thought? She remembered seeing the glasses, but they were small and understated, just simple wire rims and two thin lenses of glass. There was a scar, but so faded that it barely mattered. Blonde hair, but not messed like a southern brute she saw in the movies, but neatly combed and businesslike. And the face lacked the neanderthal features, but were more sharply defined, clean, and devoid of brutish idiocy.

Corgan was not a gunslinger, but more of an aristocrat in look and manner.

That was the man whom pestered her department about the security sensors?

"Lovely..." She sighed.

Rose try to smile at the young woman thinking to herself, ~Will this woman take James away from me?~ then the Betazoid when back towards her daughter's cup to fill it up with water.

"I want to see Uncle James NOW!" "Sorry hon we can't he on the away team mission."

"Last I checked..." Lieutenant Pharrel answered, "He might be going to the planet. Chief of Security... something strange happened and all... he would be there..." She said with a hint of worry, "Wouldn't he?"

"What do you think Lieutenant? Of course he an senior officer it part of his job." Rose replied while starting to cut in to her steak hard, an sure sign that his woman was pissing her off.

~"Geez..."~ Lieutenant Pharrel watched Rose saw into her steak, hoping of all hopes that wasn't her head being envisioned in that side of beef. ~"She's cutting into that steak pretty hard. I better say something. Or should I shut up?"~

"Ummmm..." Her awkward silence was broken, "I... ummm... you really care about that guy, don't you?"

"Of course I do I care for him for years and he been so good to me since my husband was murdered almost an year ago."

~"Uh oh... heavy stuff here."~ She nervously glanced at her food, ~"I better tiptoe around that."~

"Oh dear..." She mumbled sourly.

"He was there when my twins was born holding my hand when the pain came. If you have anything to say to me you can, you can't hurt me." Rose simple replied while taking an bit of her steak while looking at the woman with an look in her black eyes.

"Ummmm..." Elli didn't know what to say. She was the first to admit that such heavy situations didn't suit her. She was a troll by nature, and wasn't adept at dealing with others. "Well... I guess... I had no idea you care about him so much. It's... romantic." Elli blushed. She congratulated herself. Her butt was out of that latest fire.

"Good." Rose simples replied while started to eat her steak once again while Karyn started to playing in her food more.

"Honey you need to eat, I know you don't like it but it all you have."

Elli left her food to grow cold. Suddenly, she didn't feel the need to eat anymore. Diplomatically, she got out of her seat and calmly pushed it back in.

"Sorry to have upset you." She apologized meekly.

"Oh you haven't upset me Elli, if I can call you that, you asked the questions and gave you the answers that all. Good luck in your department...Elli." the young woman said with alittle grin on her face, like an little grin fixing to do something very naughty as the young Lieutenant Eleanor Pharrel walked out the door.

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