~"Remember, stay cool James. Just stay cool."~

The bait.

It kept rolling in his mind, driving him to a cutting nervousness unfamiliar to him since the trenches of the Dominion War. Though he was clear on what to do, how to do it, and how long, it still worried him that his simple security tasks were made that much more complicated and more sensitive. Now was the game of politics on an intergalactic scale, and he felt very much the pawn.

But there was work to be done. The guise was very much important, and a task he put off until now. There was still the question of compliance on the side of the Romulans. Though the rules were well stated, with angered breath by Corgan himself, he had yet to see if Omar complied to his requests pertaining to his bodyguards and his equipment. He did not look forward to another verbal clash. It tired him to argue with stubborn fools.

The thought crossed him that the reason he was nervous had nothing to do with Omar, or with trying to convince a stubborn politician to bend to Starfleet regulations (laid out beforehand). The bodyguards, though packing lethal weapons while he had his type 2 sidearm for what seemed like miles away on his hip holster, were not the reason why he warily came in. It was something else. Something with curves, and a sleek voice that crooned and teased.

Atole Tekri smiled at him with delight. "Lieutenant Commander!" Omar though was far less enthusiastic about the arrival of the chief of security. His bodyguards proceeded to back away from the human.

Tekri approached the chief of security while continuing to smile. They were very nearly touching.

"Have you come to search us for hidden weapons? If you are then you should start with me who is a new visitor." A second smile then invited him to comply with the request.

Backing up a step (it was a personal preference of his to keep a meter away from people), James Corgan kept his cool on the outside, though his brain warred with itself to keep the dealings business like. "I would say that is not specific enough, Madam Tekri, and unfortunately today is all about business." James bowed, politely, slightly, not oversuggesting, but definately receiving her message.

James continued, "We have yet to see any evidence that the current weaponry carried by your teams have complied by our regulations and rules. For example..." He glanced over to the door, and pointed, "The forcefield issue has yet to be resolved. I have not received proof that your bodyguards use their disruptors at nonlethal levels during guard duty." He then pointed to the bodyguards, "And then there's integrating Romulan technology into your quarters, which screams bloody havok on our systems... and then theres the booby traps. These issues have yet to be resolved."

Tekri frowned briefly. "No it is not lieutenant commander. Though I shall be specific." The woman looked at her electronic notepad. "There are certain issues that do have to be discussed. As the assistant for the senator then these tasks are my total responsibility." She smiled at him again.

"Senator may we use your quarters briefly?" An annoyed senator nodded to her and she then walked into the quarters.

"We must discuss these security issues lieutenant commander. Are you not chief of that department?" She was inviting him into the quarters.

~"Hmmmm... what's this?"~ James stayed at his same, stony self. As a security officer, he never risked to bend, staying as an inflexible instrument of Federation Law both in policy and negotiation. But with Atole's invitation, he felt very much like a lamb being led to a clearing, to be ambushed by a cunning predator. His sharp instinct told him to back off, not allow himself to be alone with her, where her best weapons could be most easily used. He still had it in mind that the Senator was more than willing to use his weapon against ~him~.

With security senses going off like red alerts during a Jem'Hadar attack, James replied, "It would be sensible if the Senator was allowed to listen in. Frankly, I don't see the problem with discussing it out here," He then bowed apologetically, "with no disrespect intended, Madam Tekri. If you do have any other issues besides my security concerns to discuss... perhaps we can talk later? I'll go out of my way to make the time to do so."

~"Nice work. Give her enough to work on but keep your distance. Nice job Corgan ol' boy."~ His mind thought with a tint of sarcasm.

Tekri frowned again. She looked at her electronic notepad. "The weapons of the bodyguards for the senator are not dangerous lieutenant commander."

She smiled to herself again. "I would imagine that your muscular arms are rather dangerous though nobody has asked for you to remove them from your person." She then touched his left arm gently.

With a slight blush to his cheeks, James thought, ~"She's trying really hard. Too hard. I have to keep my distance."~

Allowing her hand to brush, though paying it no mind from there on in, he replied, "You flatter me too much. And my arms do not kill with the slightest wound, such as how the disruptors were set before. I just wanted to make sure that they were kept on stun during guard duties, in synch with the regulations of my own staff on board this ship. There's also the issue of the forcefields and booby traps. Have those been disabled yet?"

~"Easy Corgan. I know she's brushing your arm, and you would normally enjoy it if you didn't know that she was just playing with you, but it doesn't mean you have to buy it. She's trying too hard... she's trying too hard..."~ He repeated the mantra, as his skin was slightly teased.

"Have you been offended lieutenant commander?"

"Oh... no, i'm not." James recalled, checking out his own PADD, "The reason I was concerned about the traps and the forcefield is because the engineering department was scheduled to perform maintenance on this section of the ship. They have to check over the power relays... may take a few days. Very noisy work, but necessary for the general maintenance of this ship..." Allowing himself a glance at her eyes, keeping the focus on Tekri, he saw into her emerald pools, and wanted to pull back. She was poison, that he knew. And underneath the femme fatale whom tried too hard, he could see someone who was naturally sexy, and dangerous.

It was an alluring side he wanted to find.

And it conflicted with his business. But he wondered, what did she see in him? A dumb hick, a country cop who had control of a ship's security? A spacer without a scrap of wit to fight back, who's only defense was being eroded? What did she really see?

And what was this insecurity he was feeling, as he looked at her eyes, feeling as if the windows of his soul were flung wide open, revealing what he really wanted, and really feared?

~"No! Think of Rebecca!"~ James slammed the thought home, pounding any lust for Tekri against a mental brick wall.

"Are you okay lieutenant commander?" She asked of him with apparent concern. "You do appear to be rather upset." She then proceeded to back away from him slightly.

~"I don't think I can do this."~ James Corgan worried, ~"I'm not prepared for this."~

"Ummm..." In a rare stuble, he stammered, "No, I was just... thinking for a second. I apologize. The engineers want to do this work 5 days from now. Is that alright with you, Madam Tekri, Ambassador Omar?"

"That task is fine." Tekri replied to his question. The senator did not comment.

"Now, I would like to receive some evidence that these changes have taken place. Perhaps a quick look at the power conduits and the forcefield systems in these quarters, if that is alright with you Ambassador?"

~"Hmmm, he's letting Tekri doing all the talking. And she seems to be changing her tune. What are they really trying to do?"~

James paused, then continued, "I am also not convinced by mere words alone that the disruptors have been set to stun during guard duties. Unfortunately, I did some checking, and I am aware that the RD-45 disruptor rifle and RDP-30 pistol..."

"No it is not."

James finished his sentence. "Is considered a classified weapon. Wait, it isn't? Well then... remind me to update our files." James hummed, etching another note, "However, it would still be sensitive technology, and I will respect the owner's rights to keep it that way. Therefore, to check that the stun rule is honoured on this ship, I have to see the weapons with a Romulan officer of Beta clearance or higher. Since you both fit the bill, I was either of you would help me in this regard."

"Yes lieutenant commander." Tekri spoke to him again. "These weapons are to ensure the safety of the senator. They shall not be used to injure your the crew."

"Alright then." James jotted down notes in his PADD, "I thank you for this opportunity. Honestly, after our last argument Ambassador, I would have thought that you would rather have me shot on sight than to be here." Adding a chuckle as his final note was recorded, he then concluded, "I tend to be a bit stubborn, and I thought you were giving my officers too much of a hard time. Please accept my sincerest apologies."

Omar nodded to the chief of security.

~"Come on Omar, you can give me more than that."~ James thought.

"Oh, and Madam Tekri..." James half turned to leave, but looked back at the new Ambassador's aide, taking in one last voluptuous sight, "You wanted to discuss some issues with me? I'm sorry to say that I have to rush off to an inspection, so I have to keep it brief today. At what time would this discussion be convenient?"

Tekri appeared to be rather surprised by his offer. Her frown altered into a smile. "Tonight? Ten-Forward?"

"Alright then." His PADD digested another note, then hid under his arm, "I'll see you there... Madam Tekri."

His bow was immediate, hasty, but polite despite his time restraints, and his retreat back to his office hurried. He tempted a glance back at Tekri, but forced himself to stand down. He dared not stare back at any of the Romulan's eyes, especially Omar's, imagining the cold harsh hatred that hid within. There was still no love lost between the two. But thinking that the arrogant personality of Omar would clash with the more passionate, defensive arguments of James Corgan (peppered with some sailor inspired swearing), James felt he was caught off guard by Omar's latest shield. Tekri was not an old trick. Humans have used friendly and beautiful women as shields for centuries, until it was almost expected. Beautiful women disarmed, charmed, and left the playing field firmly in the advantage of the defender.

And James felt relieved to get out of that scrap with some dignity intact (though not all of it in his opinion!).

There was one thought he was most certainly confident about.

Madam Tekri was dangerous. Her sensuality was used in either blunt blows, or subtle dagger thrusts. Slashing, tearing at his him, probing for weakness as she brought him to his will by a thousand dagger cuts. She played her role as the femme fatale well, better than James could play as the lonely hick military police officer with more secrets than he had restraint to keep them back. There was a part of him being tempted, curious to find what else she hid, and what else she could offer if given the opportunity to be intimate without the worry of duty. Would she be the same trolip? Or would she be a truly affectionate creature capable of loving others? How he would love to find out!

But James was no fool. He knew she was poison, and though as dangerous as she could be, the game was starting to intrigue him...

OOC: A must read! Contains the outcome of the battle.

"Turning The Tide"

[or "The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend" - Part 2? I'm not sure, but it could very well be that it was Lee's intention to let this be the 2nd part of "The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend"]

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

Lietenant (jg) Michael McDowell
Engineer

With a brief, but unauthorized, appearance of: Lt. Commander Ethan Suder Chief Engineer

Ensign Richard Connes [NPC]
Engineer

Chief Petty Officer Alexander Dorningham [NPC]
Rocket Weaponry/Chief Rocketman

*** Main Engineering ***

"Shield status!?" The voice boomed through Engineering, cutting through the blaring klaxons sounding the Red Alert. The ship rocked yet another time as it was hit with the full power of a disrupter blast.

The reply was quick and to the point. "Shields are at 74 per cent and holding!" Ensign Richard Connes said while continuing to monitor and reallocate power to the shields. "But the power drain is too much. We can't keep this up for very much longer!"

Michael regarded the Ensign for a mere second. He stood at the one side of the so-called 'pool table', Michael at the opposite side. Richard seemed to be handling the pressure rather well. His last comment didn't come as a surprise. No less then two Romulan Warbirds were using the Galaxy as punching bag. Do the math.

"That's to be expected when you're up against not one, but two Warbirds!" Ethan said as he came rushing by with a concerned look on his face. Standing in front of the Master System Display he tracked down all the locations that were lit up in red. "Have all the non-essential systems been shut down!?"

The Ensign nodded. "Yes, sir!" He'd done that a few minutes ago and again he was faced with a shortage of available power.

"Good, inform me when the shields are at 50 per cent! Then we'll turn to more drastic measures! In the mean time, keep those shields up! Work closely with Operations and Tactical to get the job done!"

"Aye sir!"

The ship shook again violently as one of the Romulan Warbirds scored another hit. It was as if it was hit with a giant sledgehammer. Everyone scrambled to grab hold of something to avoid being tossed across Engineering. The fight continued relentlessly.

"There goes another 5 per cent!" hissed Richard.

Michael clenched his teeth. Their situation got worse by the minute. "Hold on. I'll be right with you." Maybe he could help out Richard by using his experience. Though a talented Engineer, there was a chance that he had overlooked something. But before Michael was able to do so he heard Ethan calling out to him, demanding his attention.

"Michael! They need someone over at the Pulse Phaser Cannon asap!"

The only acknowledgement Michael gave was a slight nod, while he made his way passed Ethan, to let him know he'd understood. No questions about why they needed someone from Engineering or what was wrong with the weapon. There was simply no time. And time was a critical factor when engaged in battle.

****

Bridge
Deck 1
USS Galaxy

****

"Shields are down to 69 per cent," tr'Khellian barked. "Damage control teams to Deck 12."

His hands twitched spasmodically across the console, launching off another volley of torpedoes as they completed a strafing run past the bows of the D'Salva. The Rihana ships were still not responding to hails - there was still no clue as to what was happening, why they had attacked the Pallas Athena, why they were attacking the Galaxy.

Savar's eyes flicked across to the secondary display which was tracking the Vanguard squadron. Shortly after launching, they had harried the huge green capital ships for a few moments, only to be set upon by a flight of fighters launched from the Ven'tnor. They were dogfighting dangerously close to the warbird, dicing with death itself, and it was all Savoie could do to keep the Galaxy's path clear of the Ven'tnor, to avoid any stray phaser fire obliterating a passing fighter craft. This was one of the things tr'Khellian disliked about fighters - such fragile things.

"Corkscrew, Lieutenant," Captain Stuart called out, as the D'Salva swept around for another attack, targeting the especially weak dorsal shields. The helmsman twisted the Galaxy into a swift spiral which presented a minimum frontage from all shields. Frowning with concentration, tr'Khellian managed to loose off two blasts from the phaser banks as they span past, but the Galaxy shook again from another hit as the bright green lance of the Romulan disruptor struck out at the outgunned Starfleet vessel.

The D'Salva peeled off, only to be replaced by the Vent'nor, on a menacing attack vector. Savoie had spotted it, and jinked the hulking ship into a rapid evasive swerve. The shields shuddered as a large asteroid was thrown clear after impact, and the Galaxy hurried to safety, a volley of glowing torpedoes following harshly in its wake. One struck the aft shields, causing an EPS relay on Deck 20 to blow; the rest sailed by.

Tr'Khellian glanced at the PCC readouts - still not online - then back to the main tactical display. Three things struck him consecutively: three of the stray Romulan torpedoes carried on past the Galaxy's position and exploded furiously on the battle-scarred hull of the abandoned USS Pallas Athena. A flurry of communications activity followed between the two warbirds, then the Vent'nor, rather than pressing home the advantage of the fleeing Galaxy, veered off its pursuit course.

Not missing a beat, tr'Khellian frowned darkly and loosed off a tight clusters of torpedoes at the Vent'nor.

"Use the Pallas Athena as a screen," he said, flatly, breaking the eerie silence on the Bridge.

"What?"

"The warbirds are avoiding hitting it. We can use that to our advantage." The Acting Chief Tactical Officer didn't even look up from plotting the next attack run. To the rest of the Bridge crew, it might seem like folly - the Pallas Athena was already badly damaged, and to use it as a shield seemed mercenary. But to Savar, it was good tactical sense. The pattern had suddenly become apparent to him, and it made two earlier maneuvers far more logical. For some reason - irrelevant at this point in time - they were avoiding the other ship. That would buy them the extra time they needed.

He glanced at the shield status. 66 per cent - and holding.

***

PPC Control,
Deck 17

***

The ship shuddered as Michael rushed into the small control room at Deck 17. A console to the right of him spew out sparks and he instinctively raised his arm to protect himself. Smoke filled the area. Things were starting to get ugly.

A petty officer, too busy to notice him, frantically worked the main control console. Michael moved over to him with a few large steps. "What's the problem!?" He had to practically yell to make himself clear through all the noise. It was like the small chamber amplified the sound.

Alexander Dorningham briefly looked sideways. "We can't get the cannon online! The computer doesn't allow it because the structural integrity of the main EPS conduit feeding the cannon has been compromised." Alexander quickly pointed at multiple points on a schematic before him. "Microscopic fractures. Using the weapon would most likely rupture the conduit."

Michael's mind raced to find a solution. One way or another they had to get power to the PPC or else they could as well give up and start hoping for a miracle to happen. "What about rerouting the EPS power through other conduits, bypassing the weakened parts of the main conduit?"

Chief Petty Officer Dorningham shook his head. "Same problem. It won't be allowed by the computer. Safety protocols. Besides, they aren't designed to channel this much power! They would blow instantly when firing the first shot!"

~Safety protocols!? What the...!?~ "Shit, now what!?" Michael muttered furiously. "Alright, what are the chances of the main conduit not blowing up when firing?"

Alex punched in a few commands and watched the data as it was displayed on the screen. Seconds ticked away. "I can't give you anything solid, but I'd say chances are 50/50 at best."

"Then that will have to do." Michael turned away from Dorningham. He'd just taken a critical decision. One that involved taking a huge risk. "I'll take care of the Security and Safety protocols. Be ready to get that cannon online. I'll let you know when I'm done!"

"But sir, if this goes wrong we practically blow ourselves up!"

Michael spun around and gave Dorningham a stern look. "Look, the way I see it we don't have a choice! We have to take the risk or else our lives will surely end right here, in the Lhoranth Asteroid Field! Now, I don't know about you, but I rather go down fighting then to just wait until the Romulans blow us to pieces!"

Alexander looked at him. Another few seconds went by before he nodded, thereby agreeing with the path they had to take.

"Okay,..." Michael said and took and deep breath. He felt nervous as hell. "lets do it."

****

Bridge
Deck 1
USS Galaxy

****

The fighters were doing extraordinarily well - Rex's training regimen was clearly paying off. Tr'Khellian found himself momentarily distracted from the D'Salva as a Rihana fightercraft span wildly out of control, heading for the dorsal shields of its mothership. For one long moment, he watched, the craft, transfixed, not breathing. As it exploded violently against the battered shielding of the Vent'nor, a terrible feeling coarsed through the Romulan's spirit. Tiny pieces of debris were all that would be left of that vessel - and even less would be left of the life of the Rihana who had piloted it. The first casualty of the battle: a fellow Rihana had fallen. The renewed sense of treachery railed up inside Savar, and he had to tear himself away from the scene of destruction.

Shields were down to 47 per cent. They could not hold out for much longer. The D'Salva's dorsal shield grid was beginning to collapse, holding steady at 30 per cent, but two shield generators had already blown thanks to the Galaxy's sustained assault. The Vent'nor's dorsal shields were being gradually depleted by the fighters, which were now almost unopposed, and by occasional strikes from the Galaxy - they were at 61 per cent, and falling.

"Engineering," Stuart snapped, "where's that cannon?"

There was the crackle of static behind the terse reply. "Two minutes, ma'am."

"Helm, bring us about in a wide arc and plot attack pattern theta on the D'Salva," she ordered.

"Aye, Captain."

The Galaxy swerved around, cutting between a slow-moving asteroid and the crippled Pallas Athena. A sustained parting blast from the Vent'nor shook the vessel, and another set of relays blew as the shields dropped to just above 40 per cent. But the ship held its course, hurrying out of range of the warbird's weapons, then readied itself for what they all hoped would be the coup de grace.

A skittering movement across the tactical display caught tr'Khellian's eye. A lone dogfight was twisting and turning its way across the debris-scattered battlefield, a Vanguard fighter in hot pursuit of the last remaining Rihana small craft. He marvelled briefly at the skill of both pilots, almost equally matched - but the Starfleet pilot had the edge and the advantage. They wove closer to the Vent'nor. Suddenly the Rihana pilot seemed to panick, jinking back across the enemy's sights; the enemy was not found lacking. Four quick blasts from the small phaser cannons, and another Rihana life was lost - the fighter tumbling towards the Vent'nor. It exploded mutedly, ripping through the shielding as its matter/anti-matter engine was destroyed, and blowing the remaining shield generators on the dorsal hull. The others strained to compensate, barely able to extend their reach.

"Targetting the Vent'nor," Savar reacted immediately, his hands running across the controls.

"Change course," Stuart nodded, after a slight pause when she consulted her panel.

On the display, Savar could see the fighters repeatedly strafing the warbird's underbelly, dodging the blasts from its disruptors, too slow to catch them unawares. The Romulan shield generators were buckling under the strain.

In the distance, the D'Salva, which had been evading the Galaxy's attack run, realised what was happening, and came about at top speed. It began to close in on the Galaxy's aft, its most powerful weapons trained on the Starfleet vessel.

Savar's prosthetic little finger stumbled across the controls as the adrenaline in his veins began to exhaust him. He had not felt this tense or terrified since his first time in battle - the sensation of preparing to deal a knock-out blow to a ship of the Rihannsu Galae was almost overwhelming.

The shields dropped.

"Torpedoes away!" tr'Khellian yelled, a two volleys of photons hurtling from the foreward launcher towards the stricken Vent'nor, the fighters scattering suddenly and peeling away as fast as they could.

"Pull up!" Stuart ordered - but too late. The Galaxy span out of control as a flurry of Romulan torpedoes smashed into the weakened aft shields, and inertial dampners cut out across half of the ship. The D'Salva followed this up with a precise blast from its disruptor bank which the shields barely survived. Systems throughout the Galaxy went critical. The Bridge crew struggled to retain their stations. The Romulan manning the Tactical arch clung on grimly, his knuckles white.

Tr'Khellian's wide eyes snapped to the PCC readout. The cannon was finally online - but there was only enough power for one sustained blast. He had to make it count. Savoie struggled to regain attitude control at the helm as the D'Salva twisted around for an assault that would leave the Galaxy dead in the sky. Grimly, the helmsman forced the Galaxy to turn into the attack, rather than fleeing. Savar lined the cannon up just as the D'Salva reached the height of its turning circle. His heart seemed to miss a beat as he keyed the fire control, and nothing immediately happened. And then, a bolt of furious yellow-white energy leapt out from the cannon - the deck plates trembled dangerously underfoot and the internal damage control sensors went wild. The power of the cannon was tremendous, smashing into the D'Salva's shields, obliterating the dorsal generators in under two seconds. The gigantic ship was shaken off course and span away. Savoie urged the Galaxy forwards. A line of photon torpedoes smashed into the exposed section of scorched green hull - and the hundreds of lights onboard the D'Salva went dark.

There was a deathly silence on the Bridge of the Galaxy. A thin haze of smoke filled the air.

Savar gazed at the crippled warbird with disbelieving eyes. He looked down at his hands on the console, half expecting them to be bathed in green blood, and seeing them, pale, trembling as the adrenaline rush receded, they seemed as if they belonged to someone else. Two Romulan vessels lay prone and wasted, men and women dying on the decks - and he had wreaked this destruction, from the Bridge of a Starfleet vessel. Images of his fiery death, seen from this very vantage point over Quentin, came unexpectedly into his mind. He was shaken from this bewilderment by Stuart's demanding voice.

"Report!"

Tr'Khellian blinked at his console. "Shields at 12 per cent. The phaser cannon is offline. Power to the ventral and aft phasers is down, and the aft torpedo launcher is offline. There is a minor hull breach on Decks 19 and 20, forcefields are in place."

"Sickbay reports over fifty casualties," another voice chimed in. "Status of the warbirds?" the Captain demanded.

"The D'Salva's power core has been overloaded," Savar reported grimly. "Its propulsion systems are offline, shields are down." He tapped at his controls. "They have emergency power and are trying to route it to their weapons." He shook his head, then his eyes widened as he scanned the Vent'nor, with the sudden realisation that he had laid too much fire down on the exposed warbird. "The attack on the Vent'nor has set off a cascade reaction in their power distribution system," he reported, hastily, his mouth turning dry, his mouth feeling like lead. "Fires are breaking out throughout the ship."

"Captain," the Ops officer called, "I'm reading a massive build-up of energy from the Vent'nor's power core."

Savar swallowed. "They have activated their self-destruct mechanism."

"Sweet Dreams"

By:
Lt. Commander Rose Isis MacAllen

Ensign Paulo DiMillo,
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

**Rose's Office**

It was past midnight when the young woman woke up finding the young Asst. Chief of Intel asleep in her office chair.

With an little grin on her face Rose cover him up with an cover and kisses him on the cheek, "Sweet Dreams." Rose whispered in his ear then lays back down on her couch.

**Dream** Paulo sat there with a beautiful women across from him. He had known her for some time now, and every time he saw her he was even more happy to be with her. She had been able to get the information he needed, that eventually ended up to helping him find is long lost sister. His sister had been more or less fine. She wasn't on the ship with him, and she wasn't home with their parents. Instead she was spending her time at Starfleet Medical where they were trying to help her. She had been mental and physical abused for years. To him he was just happy to have her back.

Rose walked into her office wearing an see threw red, leather outfit and was shocked to see an young agent looking at her in such ways.

"What are you thinking about now you bad boy you?"

"I don't think I need to think, but instead just be here," Paulo replied.

The young Betaziod walked over and sat on his lap and asked, "So now what? What do you have in mind?" she grins at him while playing with his hair a little.

"Your the telepath," Paulo replied knowing she already knew.

"Ok you asked for it." Rose said with another sexy grin and kissed him very hard and passionate on the lips.

Paulo took it in stride and returned the kiss with all his heart. He had been waiting for this day, and it was finally here.

Then she started kissing and licking his neck gentle, "Is this want you wanted from me Paulo? After all this months of getting to know me and the children?"

"Yes," Paulo said. All of a sudden there was a loud beeping sound. "What the hell...." he said.

**Waking World** Paulo sat straight up in the chair. The chronometer read 0300 hours. "Shit," Paulo said as he looked around to orient himself again.

Rose started to moan then wakes up, she looked at Paulo and smiles a little.

"What time is it?" she asked while getting off the large couch.

"0300," Paulo replied. "I have to be on duty in 30 minutes."

"Oh shit I forgot about the children, well their with Kay and Klaus so their fine."

"You might want to go check in on them, as I will have to go in a few. I make it a point to get on duty early, and as Intelligence officer it usually helps getting to work a few hours early."

The young woman walked over while rubbing her neck a little trying to get some cranks out, "So found any connects yet?"

"A little," Paulo replied. "I asked the computer to run a few checks on the them, and I have contacted some of my people to see what they could also find out. I should have something by the end of the day."

"Well, I guess I better go then. You want to get together later?"

"Sure," Paulo replied. "Just give me a time and I will see what I can do. Maybe dinner or something."

Rose walked over and kissed him on the cheek gentle and then whispers in his ear, "Don't worry we will find her."

"I hope so," Paulo replied as he gather his things. "I hope so."

With an tired look the young woman smile for the first time in an few days, then walks out of her office door.

Paulo followed her out and headed in the direction of his quarters. He had enough time to take a quick shower and grab a cub of coffee, and he plane on doing just that.

NRPG: The Returning memories of the horrors of war, combined with the current battle is begining to wear down Dr. Fienberg. Who knows what could happen next for our Good Doctor.....being stressed to the limits his worn mind has.

"Worn Scalpel"

By
Dr. Klaus Fienberg, Medical Officer

And an Un-authorized extremely short use of our "beloved" Chief Surgeon, Lt. Cmdr. Vladimir Malgin.

Location: Deck 12, Main Sickbay

50 Casualties, Living, Dying, Injured, Battered, Burned.

Klaus wasn't totally sure, but it was likely that the entire availiable medical staff was on duty, helping the injured.

-More war, more violence, more killing. War with the Romulans....it will destroy us all.-

Klaus was constantly rushing around, taking orders, assisting in major injuries, treating minor ones himself, and ferrying supplies. Nothing really important. Klaus desired a position of importance, but things could be worse......or could they. A Doctor on of the major ships of the line in a war between two galactic powers. This flow of injured, and the flow of dead would continue, and Klaus would see it all, unless he himself were to join the flow of dead. Perhaps that would be better. Or would it. Sickbay was deep within the ship, protected from most attacks, save for boarding, and complete destruction of the ship.

Klaus stopped to rest next to a damaged computer console, it was cracked and his reflection could be seen in it. He looked 10 years older, with grey hairs to boot. He looked down at his hands. Worn. Worn down not by work alone, but by stress and age combined with work.

-Am I old? Am I becoming Old? Is the youthfulness that I once held gone from my body? Gone from my soul?-

He could hear yelling, almost in the back of his head.....but he didn't hear it. All that seemed to sound in his head was the beating of his own heart. The yelling directed at him was merely a sensation. He turned to see Dr. Malgin yelling at him. His lips moved but nothing came out....and the strangest thing started to happen to Klaus' right hand. It started to shake.

Klaus shook his head and snapped out of it, just in time to hear "WHAT THE F*CK IS WRONG WITH YOU FIENBERG!"

"Nothing, sir."

-Far from nothing, sir.-

"Which World Is This?"

Ensign Cora Dobryin

Cora didn't recall much after handing over the requested information. She'd followed standard Intelligence procedures all the way. Of course that only helped keep them alive a data secure after the ship was attacked. Somewhee in all of that Cora lost track of just how long her small group had been locked in that cargo bay.

From experience she knew that Starfleet Intelligence wasn't exactly a favorite on everyone's list, but they did have a well defined purpose for beign in existance. Same reason they hadn't pulled Cora for temporary duty aboard the Pallas Athena for nothing. Some part of her hoped the whole efffort hadn't been in vain.

Her mind had drifted back several years to her posting just as after she graduated the Academy.

*** USS Helios ***

Helios wasn't a new assignment for Cora in fact she'd completed her cadet cruise aboad the very same ship. Another quiet evening on duty had been designated for catching up on her language studies. When someone entered the room and called her name, she was more than a bit surprised.

"Dobryin..." Ensign Mendas tried again when he received no response the first time, "Hey Cora, are you going to have your nose stuck in that anaylsis all night long."

Finally she glanced up with a slight grin, "At the rate things are going yeah I will."

"Not this time. I think an hour or two break won't hurt anything. Besides I still owe you dinner."

Cora agreed to dinner recognizing that a short rest would do her some good. Little did she know that would be her last chance for a long while.

*** Present, USS Galaxy ***

At some point Ensign Dobryin must have passed out completely because the next thing that greeted her was Galaxy's sickbay. Strange sounds and unfamiliar faces penetrated her silent cocoon of sleep. The only familiar thing that caught her attention was activity associated with Red Alert. Alone that was more than enough to force some of her less than pleasant memories of recent days to surface.

Not exactly sure of why that particular night aboard the Helios had come to mind or maybe it was because it was the last time she'd had a chance to talk to Ensign Mendas. She had changed a lot since that fateful evening so many years ago. However the only thing that really mattered now was surviving the incident aboard the Pallas Athena. Anything else Cora could sort out later.

"Where am I?" her voice still sounded a bit distant as she fought to wake completely. An urgency to figure out what was going on and attend to her duties dominated every fiber of her being. Not until the full reality of the current situation hit, did Cora recall there were nothing for her to do at the moment.

"Confessions"

By:
Major Saladin Bolivar,
Chief Intelligence Officer

Ensign Paulo DiMillo,
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

*** Intelligence Offices ***

Paulo sat at a workstation in the Intelligence office. This whole ordeal with the Empire had him going through a loop, and yet all the information he had gotten from Rose. He had so much going on at once, he sometimes lost track of what he was doing.

Saladin had gotten a report that DiMillo had been working on something that was nothing that he had assigned or even was essential. It was instead some ridiculous work for that idle whining science officer.

He cleared his throat, "if you were as diligent in your other duties as you are in this you would be promoted to admiral by now."

Paulo stopped and looked up at him. Paulo had an idea what he was talking about, so he might as well come forward with it. "Sir, with all due respect, most of that is done in my free time, while off duty. Very little of that work is ever done while I am on duty, and that is only when I have a free minute or two."

"It affects my department Mr. DiMillo, therefore it affects me."

"Yes sir, I understand. And to make the record clear all of it was for my personal research and something I have been working on since graduating from the Academy. I will make a point of it to make sure it no longer affects my work." Paulo hoped that would do it, but seeing what kind of person the Major was from his service record he doubt it would be enough.

He nodded, "A word of warning, some people claim to be in more trouble then they are..."

At that point Paulo realized he had said more then the Major wanted, or needed to know. "Yes sir..." Paulo replied.

"Very good. " Saladin looked at him, "What is so important that you work on it now?"

"Not much sir," Paulo replied. "Its hard to pick up a trail that has been cold for more then a decade."

"It can be what exactly are you looking for?"

Paulo paused a second. "My younger sister. When I was younger I have a younger brother and sister, and two loving parents. Now I am down to two depressed parents, though they love me very much, its just not the same. My brother died after my sister was kidnapped on their 3rd Birthday. Ever since then I have vowed to find out what happened and who did this to my family to make sure that they get the full face of justice, but as you can see I haven't gotten to far."

"Keep looking. Somethings are important, family is one of them."

"Thank you sir, and I will make sure that it doesn't interfere with my duties again."

"Good..."

"Anything else sir?"

"Not at this time."

"Dropping the Hammer"

Flight Officer T'Shani "Forgehammer" A'Akledorian

=^= Banzai Class Starfighter 'Vanguard Three': L'horanth Field =^=

"Dammit!" Tish yelled as she completed another skimming run across the Ven'tnor, pulling her Banzai fighter up quickly, in order to avoid a barrage of disruptor fire from the aggressor's main dorsal disruptor banks.

"Rhooz!" [Shit!] she yelled next, as the IFF scanners showed a Romulan fighter trailing too close to her.

~Where the hell is Sanoe!?~ she wondered. Vanguard Four had broken off, to take care of a couple of fighters, but had never regrouped with Tish. She wasn't answering hails, either.

Tish's craft shook wildly as the green disruptor fire exploded around her spacescreen. The damned Sl'uurg bastard was too close to allow for any gunning on Tish's part...

But, there were a few *tricks* that the Andorian Flight Officer knew from her time serving with the Andorian Defense League...

~That's it!~ She quickly keyed her driver-coil assembly (DCA) to her HUD. Usually, when at sub-light speeds, the DCA maintained a very weak subspace field. It wasn't enough to transition to Warp, but just enough to give *pull* to the fabric of space-time, to aid in maneuvering.

Her left hand lifted off the throttle and quickly punched in a series of commands, effectively extending the subspace field *behind* her Banzai, encapsulating the pursuing fighter, creating a strong attraction to *her* craft, much like a standard tractor-beam, but using a subspace field instead of a graviton beam.

Now, no matter how hard the Romulan pilot tried, he couldn't break free of the *grip* T'Shani had over his craft. Neither could he fire his disruptors...the space-time variance of the subspace field was strong enough to effectively dampen their fire.

"This is for Korman!" she raged as she accelerated, maxing her impulse manifold to the point of overheat - warning indicators pegging-out at red. The Rihannsu pilot tried desperately to compensate and cancel-out the subspace field being generated by Vanguard Three...but he was too late.

Setting her IDF and SIF generators to maximum, Tish pushed her throttle to full-stop, while end-over-ending the nose of the Banzai. In less than a second - as the nose of Vanguard Three pitched through 180 degrees - Tish cut all power to the DCA, effectively catapulting the Rihannsu craft into the dorsal shields of the D'Salva. She followed-up with a barrage of pulse-cannon fire, while yelling into her mic, "Forgehammer, Fire Two!"

~Take that, you fucking Greenbloods!~

No sooner had she finished with that, she saw that only one Rihanna fighter remained. While the rest of Vanguard Squadron was buzzing the Ven'tnor, Tish made a run for the small craft. Switching DCA back on, she accelerated to pursue.

~You're mine!~

This fucker was slippery...and a damned-good pilot. If he wasn't a Umar-damned Greenblood, she might have even respected his skill.

Ignoring Rex's command to regroup, Tish pushed her fighter harder, the already overtaxed impulse manifold straining. She'd have to fix that, when she was done.

"C'mon...c'mon..." she urged silently, as she followed the opposing craft, dodging over, under, and around starship-sized asteroids as they weaved out and around the main attack site. Briefly, she checked the TACSIT in her HUD, again. It wasn't looking good for the Galaxy: the Ven'tnor had just fired a huge burst from its main forward disruptor cannon, weakening the Galaxy's shields to forty percent.

~Fire the damned cannon!~ she urged whoever was manning the Phase Cannon. It was fast-becoming the only way the Galaxy was going to survive...

Tish pulled hard to port, swinging Vanguard Three past 90 degrees, headed back towards the Ven'tnor. As skilled as this pilot was in flying, he was lost when it came to common sense. He had actually flown out of T'Shani's sights...she was sure she had lost him. But then, a second later, he jerked back across...maybe because he had seen that the Ven'tnor was re-powering its main disruptor again, and he had been right in the way.

~Die!~ she thought, antennae arching under her flight helmet. She didn't care *why* he had flown back, he was *hers*.

"See you in Hell!" Then, she thumbed the pulse-phasers, again. "Forgehammer, Fire Two!" In a blink, the Romulan craft - with its pilot - was gone. Well, almost...

What happened next caught Tish off-guard. Her pulse-phasers hadn't totally disintegrated the other fighter, but had caused a resonance-cascade in the smaller fighter's M/AM reactor. She was almost too close, as the Rihanna craft exploded violently, ripping through both hers and the Ven'tnor's dorsal shields.

Alarms rang as the dampening-generators strained, then winked-out, while Vanguard Three tumbled, out of control. As she pitched and rolled, Tish noted that the AAC - Automated Attitude Control - had been damaged in the explosion...she would have to bring the craft back into control the old-fashioned way.

Combining a short, high-powered burst from the DCA - combined with pulses from the Banzai's maneuvering thrusters - Tish fought to bring Vanguard Three back into control.

~Fuck!~ she slammed her hand on the control. That last burst had overloaded the DCA...the M/AM chamber was going to blow!

"Forgehammer's ejecting!" she said as she quickly reached both hands down and between her legs, pulling up on the black and yellow-striped handle, causing the entire cockpit module to explosively accelerate away from the fighter craft, as it flared into a white-hot corona of matter-antimatter annihilation.

As the escape pod continued its trajectory, Tish's hearts leaped inside her, as the might Phase Cannon (finally!) punched a devastating hole clean-through the D'Salva - its lights flickering, then dying, while massive fires ruptured its hull, from the inside.

Crossing her arms over her chest in triumph, Tish grinned, wickedly! Don't mess around with *us*, bastards!

Her victory was short-lived however, as she watched the Galaxy slowly, yet steadily begin to turn from the Ven'tnor.

Peering closer, as the pod continued on its vector away from the fight-scene, she saw the tell-tale glow of the Ven'tnor overloading her singularity drive.

"Rhooz!" she swore, the bastards were attempting a self destruct! Quickly, she realized that the pod wasn't near-enough clear of the figured blast-radius, even at her rate of departure.

This was it, she was going to die...

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