"Enter: Biessman"

[NB: Backlog. Takes places shortly after Galaxy departs Wolf 359]

Primary Characters:

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Acting Chief Tactical Officer

Ensign Robert Biessman
Tactical Officer

Secondary Characters:

LtJG Chase Remur
Tactical Officer

*****

Tactical Offices

*****

"When will these repairs be completed?"

"Without complications, within the next week, sir. But with the Quick virus, it could take longer."

Tr'Khellian shook his head, a sour expression on his face, and tossed the PADD down onto the surface of the desk. He really did not understand what this business with the Quick virus was all about. What was the point in 'upgrading' an obsolete vessel only to introduce a gaping wound which haemmoraged at regular intervals and apparently never healed? This ship was supposed to contain some of the finest minds in the Federation, and even Quick himself was aboard - was no one capable of defeating a malign computer programme? It was pathetic.

"I'm sorry, sir," Chase Remur said, interpreting his silence as frustration at her. "I'm doing my best. I'm really not an Engineer by trade."

The Romulan's dark eyes swung back to the Tactical Officer. "I understand that, Lieutenant," he said, not unkindly. "Your record is far from unimpressive in your areas of expertise. I appreciate your efforts." He picked up the PADD again, glanced through its contents, signed off the report then handed it back to her. "I have full confidence in your management of the repairs pertaining to the Tactical department."

"Thank you, Sub-Commander," she nodded, tucking the PADD under her arm.

He locked eyes with her for a moment and paused. "Is there a problem with Ensign Pennington?" he demanded suddenly.

She was slightly taken aback by the question, and broke the gaze to glance down at the floor. "Not that I'm aware of, sir."

He was silent again. Pennington had not been keen to disguise her distaste with Savar's promotion and the promotion of Lieutenant Commander Henderson. She seemed all too fond of Henderson, and tr'Khellian found himself wondering if there was more to that relationship than a merely professional one. He had found her surly and barely co-operative, and yet not in the slightest bit contritious, as if *he* had done something wrong.

He was baffled and irritated by her behavior and had no time to mollycoddle her. If the situation was not resolved soon he would have no hesitation in pulling her off Bridge duty and reassigning her to extra repair duties instead. He had neither the time nor the inclination to deal with the emotional deficiencies of his subordinates.

"I hope not," tr'Khellian stated, finally. "Don't let me detain you, Lieutenant Remur." Chase nodded and strode out. Savar crossed to the window and stared out at the stars streaking past as the Galaxy hurtled towards the Rihannsu border. He barely had time to contemplate the prospect of returning to the region of space he knew so well before there was another chime at the door. "Enter," he barked, turning to regard the newcomer, who halted two strides into the room and came to attention.

"Ensign Robert Biessman, reporting for duty, sir."

Tr'Khellian looked Biessman up and down. He was properly attired and decently groomed. The Rihana poured two glasses of water from the pitcher resting on his desk, then gestured for Biessman to take one of them.

"Welcome to the Galaxy, Ensign Biessman," he stated.

"Thank you, Commander," Robert said, picking up the glass and tentatively sipping at it.

"It is 'Sub-Commander'," tr'Khellian corrected him, having taken his own sip of water. That Rihana ritual over with, he extended his hand in the Terran traditional greeting. Biessman smiled and shook the Romulan's hand. "Take a seat, Ensign," Savar told him, before resuming his own chair. "I am Sub-Commander tr'Khellian, and I am in acting command of the Tactical Department. The Chief, Lieutenant Commander Henderson, has been promoted at least temporarily to the post of Executive Officer." Savar's tone was very matter-of-fact in the style of a military briefing. "As you may be aware, I am an Exchange Officer from the Rihannsu Stellar Empire." He picked up another PADD from the neat stack on his desk. It contained Biessman's brief service record. "I see your last ship was mothballed. What were your duties onboard USS Evolution?"

"Yes, commanded by Captain David Carey. He fought for it, and lost. Now it is a museum, but it wasn't worth fighting for with all the battles it went through in the war. I am surprised it lasted this long," Robert replied. "As for my duties I was tactical analyst onboard the ship."

"I see," Savar replied in a flat tone, he took another sip of his drink before placing his padd down. "Have you seen the duty roster yet, Ensign?"

"Yes I have, 0330hrs isn't strange to me I pulled similar hours onboard the Evolution, sometimes double, triple shifts to make up for the short staff the ship onboard," Robert answered finishing his drink and placing the glass on the sub-commanders desk.

"We have a full complement of staff in the department, Ensign," Savar responded. "Extra shifts will only be required in periods of emergency, though your capacity for additional work is noted." He slid a PADD across the desk. "Here is an outline of your duties onboard and the roster for the next six weeks. As you will see, I have divided your duties into some strategic analysis, some review-and-repair work, and a limited amount of Bridge time. The idea is for you to build up experience, competence and confidence in all these areas, to get a feel for the department and your colleagues. I will reassess work patterns on a regular basis. Any concerns about your assignments should be raised with me as soon as possible."

"Well that is good, give me time to sleep and meet up with people." Robert wasn't sure if he would do the latter but sometimes he would have to. "What is this I hear about fights on the ship, is it something to be worried about?"

Savar frowned and scrubbed a hand across his chin, setting Biessman's records down. "The Galaxy is a large vessel, and its crew are somewhat unruly," he remarked. "The presence of certain civilians doesn't exactly improve matters, either," Savar said, a sour note in his voice. A listener less green than Biessman might have understood who the Rihana was referring to. "There have been several violent incidents recently, mostly with civilians and some security staff involved. In addition I understand there is a particularly violent Andorian fighterpilot onboard who likes to use other crewmembers as a punchbag. I haven't yet had the 'pleasure' of making her acquaintance," he said, with a wolfish, sarcastic smile which was distinctly unpleasant. "I would advise steering clear of the launch bays. Anyone caught brawling from this department will be dealt with severely."

Biessman blinked. "Why has there been this rise in violence?" he asked.

"Captain M'Kantu decided it would be a good idea to permit a hand-to-hand combat tournament to take place onboard. Once barbarism is sanctioned it is bound to run out of control."

"I thought the CO was Captain Stuart, sir?" the new arrival queried.

"Ah, yes," tr'Khellian said, leaning forwards slightly. "Our last mission to the planet Quentin was accompanied by a rather disturbing temporal incident." Images of fire, death, and his own destruction flashed unbidden into his mind, and his eyes closed reflexively as he onsciously strove to repress the false memories. They opened again a moment later; the extended 'blink' would only be noticed by a keen observer. "Captain M'Kantu was recalled by Starfleet Temporal Investigations for questioning. In his stead, Captain Stuart has command." He took a sip from his water then turned his attention back to Robert. "Do you have any further questions, Ensign Biessman?"

Robert scratched his head, "Uhmm, I don't think so sub-commander, at least I can't think of any right now."

"Well if you think of any you know where to find me, Ensign," Savar replied.

"Yes sir," Robert repied as he started off the seat, "Well, yes, I do have a question."

"Whats that?" Savar asked.

"Where is the best place to get a drink around here?"

Tr'Khellian arched an eyebrow, getting to his feet. This was hardly the question a decorous individual would ask their new commanding officer. Gathering his PADDs, he eyed the Tactical Officer. "The ship's lounge is located on Deck 10, Ensign. It tends to be more popular with junior officers than the Mess." He gave Biessman a look which strove to convey that whilst what the Ensign did in his free time was none of his concern, if he ever caused trouble or let his revels infringe on his duties, he would descend upon him with the Wrath of the Elements. "Dismissed, Ensign Biessman."

"Breaking the Mirror, Part II"

**Immediately after "Breaking the Mirror, Part I"**

Primary Characters:

Lieutenant Commander Cassius Henderson

Flight Officer T'Shani A'Akledorian

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 11
Holodeck 4

... She stepped closer to him again, face-to-face.

"Stand down, Flight Officer," he said in responce, beginning to feel a little too close. He was so close he could smell her. "You don't need to impress anyone here. I'm sure, just between out collective experiences in the fleet, that we understand each other."

She stepped back, ever so slightly, and cocked her left antenna back. "Do we, 'Commander?" she asked, rhetorically.

Yes," he replied, "We do. I just happened to work for people who, at the time, had morals."

"I understand how *terrible* you think the Red Division is. But what is *more* terrible, and *more*...frightening...is what will happen if the Romulans turn that crystal into some sort of weapon. It would mean the end of the Federation. It would mean the power the Tal Shiar has been looking for."

"Or the Rihannsu Stellar Empire if they make too many mistakes. It would certainly unbalance the treaty situation we have with the Rihannsu at the moment," Henderson stepped away, pacing as he considered his words, "As for what Red Division may or may not be, consider this. We wouldn't be in this place if Red Division didn't exist, if we did the moral thing. Our own R&D people have kept up, even in reverse engineering. And don't kid yourself that Red Division were the only people working on the Voyager technology. However, that's not the point. You've obviously chosen your allegiance here. I believe you're wrong. So be it."

She spun around, her back to him, as she slowly slid the long blade into its sheath on her back.

"Fine, have it your way, Flight Officer," he said, continuing to use her irritation with her new rank against her.

~But there is a point here, isn't there?~ he thought to himself, and immediately came to the conclusion he'd known since the first meeting, ~Yes. To find out what she knows about the missing years. About Captain Worthman, Marine Captain Blackar, even what Houghton's been up to for the last few years.~

"Tell me what's happened in the last few years within the intelligence community. Specifically, for me to be an effective second to you, I need to know about Captain Worthman's activities in the last few years, as well as Captain Blackar and General Houghton."

~Very well~ she thought as she turned back to him, taking the sheath and blade off of her, setting them to the side.

While looking at Cassius, she called-out, "Computer, seal and lock Holodeck Four. Initiate Security Level Three. Authorization: T'Shani Seven-Seven-Sigma." The new security codes she had recieved from General Houghton came in handy, especially now.

~Well, that takes care of any of the non-department heads who might want to listen in,~ Cassius thought, ~Not good enough though, and I really need to have Ops reassign command codes. Somebody's fucked with the system.~ He reached into his pocket and switched on the null-zone generator that he had used in the conference room.

She called-out again, "Computer, run program A'Akledorian Twenty-three Bravo." The Computer chirped again, while the lush forest surrounds of Seltax VII were replaced with a room that Henderson recognized all-to-well...

SFI HQ. She just loved making him uncomfortable, didn't she? Cassius frowned, and looked around the circular room disapprovingly. He'd been here maybe twice in his career, both times with then-Commander Worthman. ~This just isn't right, being back here.~ he sat down and waited.

She sat down at the head of the reproduced conference table, propping her long, muscled legs up on its surface. Leaning back, stretching her antennae, she watched as Cassius tentatively looked around, before being seated.

"So..." he indicated that she should go on.

"As you *wish*, 'Commander. *Captain* Worthman, the woman that you so dearly cherish, is--put simply--a traitor."

"I'm sure," Henderson replied. Sarcasm was definately getting to be one of his strong points, especially with people like Rima and T'Shani around. "And you're basing that leap of logic on what? Did *Tanner* tell you? Or maybe *Korman* before curiousity killed him? Wasn't he assaulting the Hellfire when he died? The Hellfire the Brenna was commanding? Who, exactly, is the traitor here, Flight Officer? Until you give me some concrete, incontravertible proof, then I think I'll believe what I want to believe; what my experience teaches me."

Tish tried not to laugh as the human's defenses went sky-high. She had seen the after-action reports, had listened to and watched the classified sensornet recordings...and they didn't lie. Unless Captain Worthman had something *else* up her shirt...no, no...*sleeve*, she was a traitor, in Tish's book.

Instead, T'Shani simply sighed. "Really, 'Commander, your emotions betray you. Korman..." she paused again, as she said his name out-loud... "Korman *died* when he was shot, point-blank by a Type-Three Disruptor. It was *his* team that kept the Sl'uurga Romulans from overrunning the *rest* of the base." She let the implications of that sink-in.

"In the conference room, you told us he died attempting to retake the Hellfire. What's the truth?" Henderson asked, frowning at her, "And my 'emotions' are no business of yours, Flight Officer."

She raised her antennae, "Oh, no. Korman *was* killed, trying to retake the ship. But the team secured the base, afterward," she clarified.

Continuing: "*Before*," she stressed, "Captain Worthman... *disappeared*...with the Hellfire, she had joined the Deep Shadow Project because she said it was 'interesting'; whatever *that* meant."

"She would have been," he said, nodding noncommitally. It could mean whatever she wanted it to. Or whatever he wanted it to, since there was so little information to work on.

T'Shani leaned forward, arching her left antenna. "Regardless, 'Commander, once SFI confirms *where* the Hellfire is, I'll be going after it. You..." she pointed her finger at Cass... "will assist. But I have to know--right now--that no matter what happens, no matter what your feelings are towards Red Division or any one else, that you will maintain the integrity of the mission."

He nodded dismissively, "Of course. The usual mission disclaimers apply. I *know* the procedure." He was just a little insulted at her tone and way of considering him inferior. Still... He wanted to get back in the field. He remembered the adrenaline rush of mission ops. It was addictive.

"Then, welcome aboard, Sir." ~Good, *that's* taken care of. "As soon as we are clear of the asteroid belt, and have re-established contact with Headquarters, I will inform General Houghton of your inclusion."

"What are the other operational parameters?" Cassius asked, "I know your main mission is the Hellfire, one way or the other. But I want the details. Who we're taking, where we're starting out, and any little surprises that we'll face along the way."

"You, me, and two other mission-specialists will meet at Starbase 101 for debriefing. We will then be inserted behind Rihannsu lines to carry out the prime mission: retake or destroy the U.S.S. Hellfire. Our secondary mission is to rescue any Starfleet personell: Captain Worthman, Commander Ateles'kes, and Lieutenant Commander Lemmes--*if* they're still alive," she stressed.

"Of course," he said. With her, he was starting to have to say that a lot.

"Then, we will return with what and/or whom we recover. Simple as that." There was one more thing, however...

"'Commander," her voice lowered somewhat, "you must also realize that this is considered a *Black* Operation: all members involved will have their commissions temporarily suspended for the duration of the mission..."

He smiled, a sort of grim, satisfied smile, as if some greater point had been made. Whatever it was, it was lost on T'Shani. "And how long do you intend for this to take?"

Suddenly, the computer chimed, followed by the voice of 'Lieutenant Rex: [All fighter pilots, report to launch bay for S&R Maneuvers, on the double!]

"Not now. Tell me later," he said, "Get to your fighter."

Hearing Rex's voice again grated on her nerves. Standing up, and smoothing her uniform jacket, "I will contact you again, when I have recieved operation-transfer protocols, Sir."

Coming to full-attention, she nodded once, spun on her heels, and marched out of the room, picking up the sheathed chaka as she passed out of the large pressure-doors, into the hallway, leaving Cassius alone in the ghostly room, pondering the future...*and* the past...

"Rose's Choice, Part 1"

(Backpost)

By: Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen

**New Year Eve, December 31st, 2380**

Wine bottles!

Rose's living room area of her big apartment was full of empty winebottles that the young Betazoid been drinking to drowning her sowers in after the news that James Corgan that he was in love with Rebecca and not her.

The young Betazoid is use do this by now, all her life she been or felt like she been betrayed by men that started with her rape at the Acdemy and all down the line it when towards this day.

Now fully drunk and the children safe with her cousin Kay and her new husband Klaus in their apartment the older Rose Isis MacAllen looked at herself in the mirror that was in her bedroom area of her apartment and took an good look at herself in the mirror.

She 27 years old now, with three children, with no husband or lover to comfort her or the children.

Alone...so deadly alone.

The young Rose was happy once, back then she had friends, an great career in Science, also great beauty that was unmatched any girl or woman.

But now, she no longer beautiful, just an ugly duckling with no love in her heart that would make her sing towards the gods of the heavens.

She just sat their looking at herself while wearing an red, Betazoid nightgown with tears rolling down her beautiful dark eyes...what going to become of her now?

With alittle Betazoid knife that her mother gave on her sixteenth birthday, the young officer cut her hand open alittle and put the blood on her soft, olive face.

Rose Isis MacAllen is taking an long look at herself thought the mirror, though the blood that runs though her...the bloodline of her family and the blood that runs though her children.

What future is there for her now?

What about her children future?

Then something popped up inside her that been hiding for years....a darkside.

"Born To Space"

Primary Characters:

Lieutenant Commander Cass Henderson
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 39
Vanguard Fighter Bay

There are regions of space that seem more inhospitable than others. Here in the darkness, where little light flickers even from nearby stars, surrounded only by specks of dust and chunks of rock, it seemed impossible for anyone to live. Impossible for anyone to survive. However, in this particular darkness, a single island of light held still at the edge of an asteroid field. That island, though important, was not the one that truly mattered. Instead, it was the tiny flickers of light that spun and moved through the asteroids as if they were part of a massive game of cat and mouse.

It was in this environment that Jasmine Heloi felt most at home. Away from screaming crowds of adoring fans, away from the regiments of Starfleet - for the most part, surrounded only by the metal of her fighter and the cold dark of space.

Cassius Henderson felt similarly. He'd been born there, lived there for most of his life, and would probably die there. But at least he would be at home. Lately, his job had been something of a whirlwind, with the sudden promotion, the uncertainty of the trip to the border, and the unexpected revelation of T'Shani A'Akledorian as a Red Division agent.

But now he felt a lot more focused, preparing for an Away Team. To that end, he sought out the pilot he'd talked to earlier.

Jasmine was working on her fighter - a minor tuneup - after they had returned from finding the Pallas Athena. It was true that her ship was practically humming with how well it was running, but she was in the end an engineer. Pilot first, yes. But still an engineer. She was about ready to climb into the cockpit when she heard a footstep behind her. Jazz turned to face the new XO, and someone whom she was already familiar with, "Commander! Good to see you. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way. It's be a while."

"Thank you," Cass replied, leaning against her fighter and cocking his head so he could see her, perched as she was. "I wanted to ask if you could take somebody and cover our away team's shuttle. I'd ask Lieutenant Rex, but he's out on patrol right now with Pilot Tainer."

Jasmine paused for a moment to mentally run through a list of who was on duty at the moment. She could bring Tyten along..., "Sure. I can ask my wingman to come along. When did you need us ready?"

He thought for a moment. The AT was getting their gear together now. "I think it'll be about twenty minutes before we launch."

Heloi nodded thoughtfully, "We'll be ready, sir."

"That's good," Henderson replied, "I want to get over there as soon as I can, in case there's survivors."

"You can count on us," Jasmine smiled as she went about putting her tools away, "We'll be ready to launch in fifteen."

"Thanks again," he said, "Sorry I can't stay and chat, but I have to get the AT moving. I'll catch you sometime."

"Yeah, sure, you betcha," the fighter jock grinned and went about readying her ship for flight. She also contacted her wingman to get to the fighterbay as soon as possible.

Cass turned and set off for the door at a jog. The AT was awaiting him in the main shuttlebay on the shuttle Serengheti. Time to earn his keep.

"Loss, Part I"

Flight Officer T'Shani A'Akledorian

*** Immediately after "The Find of the Century" ***

=^= L'horranth Asteroid Belt =^=

"Copy, Flight Leader. Vanguards Three and Four returning to Galaxy." Tish pushed the throttle of her fighter forward, while easing up on the flightstick and rolling to port to dodge under another asteroid, while Sunshine kept up.

Soon, they were approaching the fantail of the Galaxy, as the massive space doors parted to let their fighters land. T'Shani switched channels and addressed the Flight Boss: "Vanguard Control, this is Flights Three and Four, coming in for cool landing."

[Three and Four, you are clear for cool landing, approach-pattern Gamma. Ten seconds to automated recovery.]

"Copy, Control. Three standing by."

T'Shani slowed her fighter to about one-thousand meters from behind the Galaxy, as she switched the NAVCOM over to 'Auto'. Ten seconds later, a purplish-blue tractor-beam lanced out from within the fighterbay, took hold of Vanguard Three, and quickly guided it into the landing bay, followed soon-after by Sanoe's fighter, Vanguard Four.

~I need to get out of here~ Tish thought as she removed her flight-helmet, carefully uncoiling her antennae in the process. Next, she removed her PLSS, and depressed the release of her fighter's cockpit canopy. As the transaluminum spacescreen lifted, Tish pushed herself up and out of her seat, then climbed down the cockpit ladder that one of the flight-deck crewmen had attached. Looking over as she alighted on the deck, Tish noted that Sanoe had already exited and left the flight-deck; no-doubt she had something against T'Shani, and had wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

~Whatever~ Tish thought as she tossed her helmet and life-support harness to the attending crewman. To tell the truth, T'Shani really didn't know what the hell had gotten Sanoe so riled-up out there. But if they were going to keep each other alive--should, Umarin-forbid, a *real* battle ensue--Sanoe had better get her attitude straightened-out.

As the technicians hovered around her fighter, Tish decided a nice, hot, long shower was in order, so she headed through the large double-doors that lead past the pilot briefing-rooms, stand-by sleeping 'racks', and equipment rooms, and into the squadron's female locker-rooms. Presently, no one else was here...but Tish was sure that would change soon, as the rest of the squadron was making their final approaches. She really didn't want to have to deal with anyone else right now, *especially* Heloi or Angelenia, so she'd make this quick.

Walking over and opening her locker, T'shani stripped-off the several layers of her flight suit, pressure-suit, boots, gloves--and finally--her undergarments. Looking at her naked reflection in the holomirror attached to the door of her locker, Tish ran her hands up her thighs, across her belly, and below her breasts. She sighed, looking at the woman staring back at her. A woman so strong and built outside, but...~but *what*?~...inside.

She turned back, carefully removing the ring around her right antenna, and placed it on the top shelf of her locker.

She walked into the large communal shower, and depressed the 'Water' button--adjusting the temperature to 'Hot'. She pushed another button, and a small amount of soap was dispensed into her hands. Quickly, she lathered herself up, then rinsed under the steaming water, stopping as her hand brushed across an old scar, just under her left breast. A flood of memories rushed through her mind, of how the Rihannsu General had inflicted the wound on her, watching Raath Ra'Chuul destroyed in the flick of an antenna, and of her eventual rescuer...

~Korman...~

~Why? Why didn't you listen to me, and get out of all this?~

Slowly...silently... she stretched her arms in front of and above her, gripping the durasteel shower pedastal above her head, as she closed her eyes and let the hot water run down her face, washing away tears and memories...

"Loss, Part II"

Flight Officer T'Shani A'Akledorian

Special Appearance by First Lieutenant Korman Blackar

----------

*** In conjunction with "Loss, Part I" ***

=^= 21 MAY 2365: Outskirts of Raath Ra'Chuul, Seltax VII =^=

~"It's raining, it's pouring..."~

The small Andorian girl sat crying, rocking back and forth, in a catatonic trance on a hill that looked over the once-magnificent capitol city, now only a black scar upon a violated land. She watched as stormclouds gathered all around in the black night sky: roiling and thundering, as if the dark spirits of the Great Gods, themselves, were gathering together to bemoan the fate of the millions of Fesoans that had been barbarously murdered...

She had escaped, only hours before, through cunning and bravery on her own part. But she had paid...paid with her own innocence, and the lives of many who had followed her. She clung tightly to the chaka, propped against her. It was almost twice as long as she was tall, but it was all that she had been able to find from the burnt-out husk that had once been the regal family estate. Now...everything was...gone...

~"...ashes, ashes, we all fall..."~

"Huuuhhhh?!" She took in a quick breath of surprise as her antennae swiveled...she thought she heard....

"'Lieutenant! Over here! I've found one!"

Another voice: "Allrright, I'll go get herr. Stay herre unless I call."

"Yes, Sir," replied the first voice, again.

~"...down..."~

~NO!~

Not again...not *ever* again!

She tried desperately to lift the large blade, wrapping her small hands around the hand-holes the way she had watched her father hold it during his practice sessions with C'yn'thaamii. The rage, fury, and infinite sadness filled her chest, pumped her hearts faster...faster...faster...

The Warrior's Cry--the last thing she had heard from her father before he had been killed--started in the back of her throat, gaining strength as the figure approached her...

"Verk'irie'eel!"

The figure stopped, as the young girl struggled to raise the blade above her head.

"Whoah, little girrl," the figure said in a strange, purring, accent. "Let's put that thing down, okay? Hmmm? Why don't you come over herre? I'm herre to help you, I'm frrom the starrship..."

~What the...?~ *It* didn't sound like one of the Sl'uurga...but...how was she to know? It was speaking in Standard, though...

~NO chances!~

She raced--as best as she could--toward the figure, slashing the long, inscribed blade at the air in front of her, trying to connect it with the phantom that spoke at her from the darkness.

The figure leapt back--amazingly quickly, too--and bounded up and over her, landing gracefully, yet solidly, on its...its... ~Paws??!~ the girl though incredulously, as she saw her assailant's unbooted *feet*. ~The Sl'uurga don't have...paws...~ she reminded herself as she tried again to raise the mighty sword.

*It* laughed: "Whoa, quite a swing you have therre, hmmm?" Again, that odd, almost *soothing* purr to its words. It advanced, slowly, cautiously, almost like a...like a...

**CRRRAAACK! BOOM!**

"Oh!" the girl jumped back in fear and surprise as the lightning lit up the *face* of whatever *it* was...a...a...what had her aunt called those 'Hew-mon' things?

"CAT!" she yelled out, almost incoherently as her strained and wearied mind tried to make sense of the alien standing in front of her.

As the thunder rolled and echoed deeply around them, the cat-man chuckled, again. "Parrrtly correct," he purred once more, stoopin down on his haunches, offering his hand to her.

She clutched at her father's blade, entranced by the strange-man's *hand*; it had only *three* fingers: two digits and some sort of...thumb, all covered in black, satiny fur.

She looked up at him again. This time, he was much closer. She watched him, almost entranced as she could make out his slitted green eyes as they irised larger--seeming to glow eerily from inside. She watched how his large, pointed ears flicked forward, towards her, then back and to the side again, as if he were listening all around them.

"Wha...what are you?" she asked, the menace in her voice still evident through chords of pain and fear.

"I am a Caitian," he paused as he *walked* himself closer to her, *hand* still outstretched. Now, she could *smell* him... ~Interesting...~

"And, what is yourr name? Hmmm?" the 'cay-shin' asked her.

She lowered the blade, ever so slightly. "T-Tinis'aalan'a'salmarii'oomb'a'annaan'Shani" she blurted out her full given name, for whatever reason--she didn't know.

He purred-laughed, softly and soothingly, again. "That's quite a mouthful, hmmm? What do yourr frriends call you?" he gently coaxed.

~Maybe...just maybe...can I trust him?~

"T'Shani." she said, resolutely.

"Well, Miss T'Shani, I'm hearr to help you. Will you let me help? Hmmm?" it asked as it moved even closer.

"Are...are the Greenbloods gone, then?" she asked tentatively, cautiously.

"Yes," he said, soothingly. "They'rre all gone. I've made surre of it, myself," he assured her. He stretched his hand toward her again.

"Put the weapon down, T'Shani. I prromise: I will not let anyone hurrt you...hmmm?"

It was then, as he moved closer, that she noticed the small badge on his chest, in the form of a stylized delta superimposed over a disk...what had her father called it...?

"S-Starfleet?" her tiny voice quivered inquiringly as she verbalized her thoughts.

"Yes...I'm frrom Starrfleet, T'Shani."

"You came on a starship? To save me?" she let the sword down, a little more, but kept the 'business-end' pointed warily at the stranger.

Calmly, he smiled, careful not to expose the extended canines below his upper lip. "Yes. Would you like to see my starrship, T'Shani? It's safe there; no 'Grreenbloods'," he tried to coax her into lowering the looming blade.

"And you won't..." images of screaming, pain, and terror quickly flashed through her mind...her antennae briefly writhed and coiled, then sprang back forward. "...won't *hurt* me?" she asked in a small, innocent voice.

"No: I *prromise*, I won't hurrt you, T'Shani. And I also prromise that I won't let anyone else hurrt you, hmmm?" He was so close, mere centimeters from her young, fright-filled face.

All the pain, remorse, sadness, and utter *exhaustion* finally caught up with her, in that moment, as the wind picked up and the cold rain began to fall in the night...

The little girl lowered the massive sword to her side, while tenatively taking hold of the cat-man's hand. It felt so warm, and...fuzzy.

"Good. Now, hold on, tight," he paused as he tapped the badge on his chest, then continued, "Blackar to Hood, two to beam directly to Sickbay."

"What's your name?" the little girl asked, softly as a warm, multitonal hum began to surround her.

"Korman: my name is Korman..."

The cold and black dissolved around her in an electrifying shimmer of white and blue...

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