"From the Shadows, Part V"

Starring:

T'Shani A'Akledorian
Cassius Henderson

Guest Starring:

Arthur Blackwelder (F. Byrne)
Norra Ridgeway (M. Miller)
AMIE (Both)

Special Appearances:

Colonel Al'indal Markay'di'n (M. Miller)
Captain Michelle Novanya (F. Byrne)
Crew of the USS Holdfast, NCC-1947 (Both)

--------------------

** Following "From the Shadows, Part IV" **

=^= 0530, 9 February 2381: T'Shani's Temporary Quarters =^=

"She'vla, seethr'oo matha ii'math kell'roo thuumb a se'haal, itash'meena Iv'nar Sl'uurga."

T'Shani opened her eyes and swiveled her antenna as she finished the incantation, her chaka laying balanced across her folded legs, while she sat on a prayer mat.

She bowed her head, and briefly touched the ring around her right antenna, then continued: "See'm a'noorra khiib..." [and the vow to my clan...]

Silently, swiftly, she tucked and rolled forward, springing to her feet in a nanosecond, bringing her mighty blade in front of her, to the First Stance of Blood. They would not escape her wrath...not today... ~For my clan...and for you, Korman," she vowed as she swiftly brought the sharp of the blade lightly across her arm.

"VERK'IRIE'EEL!!" she yelled the Warrior's Cry, as the blue-purple blood glistened on the polished blade...

=^= 0550: Docking Bay Four, Starbase 51 =^=

"Shit," Arthur Blackwelder shook his head, "Is she always this late?"

They were standing in Docking Bay Four, looking out the viewport at the beat up Constitution-II class starship, USS Holdfast, docked outside.

~What a piece of shit.~ Blackwelder glanced first at his former colleague, Cassius Henderson, then at Norra Ridgeway, the marine NCO.

"No, but she does tend to dictate her own schedule. It's absolutely infuriating, getting that done to you by a wet behind the ears Jay-Gee equivalent," Cass Henderson rubbed his rough, stubble-covered, jaw. It was early, and he and Arthur had been up into the early morning hours working over the technological side.

"God," Blackwelder shook his head again, "Kids."

"Yeah, well, look at us," Cass said. It seemed so odd, settling into a truce with Blackwelder. They still, for all intents and purposes, disliked each other, but had been willing to put that aside, for the missions sake. Yes, it would be just like old times. "We used to be just like that, on the Respite."

The USS Respite, a small Sabre-Class Escort crewed by intelligence personnel and commanded by then-Commander Worthman, had been their base of operations. Now, it seemed that the Holdfast was to be the next such vessel.

"At least we had the sense to be on time," Blackwelder responded, looking over their ride. The old Constitution had seen far, far better days. Phaser burns marred its once immaculate hull. But both Blackwelder and Henderson had their suspicions about the true nature of the deceptively meak and mild vessel.

"Yes, but we were pushing each other to be better, so of course we had to be on time," Henderson said, another comment that maintained the facade that he and Blackwelder were over their differences. They could stand each other in a work situation, respect each other even, but they would never agree on some things.

"Well, hell, bohys. It sounds ahs if you two ahr actually gitt'n along, now, huh?" the diminutive blonde chimed-in with her southern accent.

Blackwelder was the one who answered, "We work together. There is a difference." Cassius Henderson was still the naive idealist to his sometimes cruel realism.

The silence they settled into a into was quickly broken, however, as AMIE and another woman, a short, solidly built woman of Russian decent wearing a red command uniform with captain's pips walked into the bay. This would have to be the commanding officer of the Holdfast.

Henderson brought himself to a sharp salute, followed quickly by Blackwelder. It was returned by the no-nonsense captain, who introduced herself: "I'm Captain Michelle Novonya, commander of the Holdfast. Where is Flight Officer A'Akledorian?"

"Here, Captain," came the echoey, cool response from deeper in the bay, behind a crate of tri-steel.

~Naturally,~ Cass thought. ~Not even the least concerned that she's late.~

"And, I'm no longer a Flight Officer, Michelle," Tish said as she sauntered toward the group. She could get away with calling Novonya by her personal name for two reasons: (1) Having no commission, she technically didn't have to address anyone by their military rank any more, and (2) Michelle knew her well-enough from the Battle of Hel'mis' Retreat - Tish *had* saved her life, after all.

"That may be so, T'Shani, but I'd hope you're still planning on remaining in the service when this is over," Novonya nodded, "You're too good for Starfleet to lose you."

Tish merely responded with a *shrug* of her antennas.

"Shoo-dawg, girl," Ridgeway called as she looked Tish up and down; the jet-black tactical suit not leaving any imagination as to the Andorian woman's well-developed physique. "Are yah goin' to bahttle, or to ah pahrty?" she half-joked, while picking up her own large tac-bag.

Tish actually smiled...*briefly*. "Hopefully, Ms. Ridgeway, both."

Cassius ignored her remark, waiting for something significant to happen, though he did make a point of noting that she was already prepared for combat, complete with a hrisal short-sword strapped to either hip and the chaka sheathed across her back.

Blackwelder sneared. With that attitude, she could expect *not* to come back from this mission. It was that sort of operative who burned bright but flamed out quickly, like a candle in a cup.

Tish looked from Cass to Blackwelder, then to Norra, and finally to Michelle, before finally addressing the 'Team'.

"Ten-hut!" she barked.

~This is a mistake,~ Cass grumbled mentally. At this point in his life, he didn't like being bosses around by overzealous and dogmatic junior officers. He got enough of that sort of crap from Pennington in his spare time. He didn't need it now.

~Here we go...~ was all Norra allowed herself to think as she snapped her heels to attention. No good in getting-in bad with the boss...

Tish paced as she spoke, loudly: "You all know the briefings...you all know the drills. We either retake or destroy the USS Hellfire and the Deep Shadow Drive. *That* is our primary mission. Our secondary mission - if feasible - is to rescue any captive Starfleet officers; Captain Worthman, and Lieutenants Ateleskes and Lemmes. Understood?" she stopped pacing and turned around to face her team.

~Obviously,~ Cass thought sarcastically, not even realizing that Blackwelder was thinking the same thing.

"Good. Colonel Markay'di'n will be joining us onboard the Holdfast. Any questions?"

"Nothing," Henderson said, not seeing the need to delay any further for all this pointless ceremony and official giving of orders. Of course, it was probably only bothering him because his experience lay in largely two person missions, without any of the brass. Then again, this was the marine corps.

"Very well," Tish turned to the *other* blonde in the bay, "AMIE?"

The AI approached Cassius and reached up to to touch him behind the right ear. The holographic technology was eerily realistic. Different in a fashion from the holodecks and ETH. He couldnt quite place what was different. She held his gaze with her ice blue eyes for a moment, then released. She repeated the same action for the remaining team members.

The holowoman spoke up, "I have just implanted a nano-neural tracking system into each of your bodies. With this system, we will be able to keep track of your location and condition within the range of eight standard star-sectors. Even if you are captured," she continued in her cool, smooth *voice*, "the system will remain undetectable; being able to be removed only with special equipment that I possess," the AI paused, then contiued:

"The nanosystem also has a fully-functional tricorder and communications array built-in."

~Holy shoo..~ Norra mouthed to Blackwelder, who - for someone who was so up on exotic technology - seemed totally bewildered by this new development.

~Bad. Bad. Bad.~ Blackwelder thought to himself, truying hard to keep the expression of utter surprise off his face. ~What the hell am I here for if their technology is so superior to ours?~

Cassius blinked twice. Okay. Things have changed. Time to change with them. It was really unnerving, but he still had a mission to accomplish, and this would help.

Tish merely arched her left antenna back as she studied each of her team-member's reactions. She, too, had been...*shocked* at the progress that the R&D boys had made in the two short years since they had started on the nanoarrays. But last night, Al'indal had detailed to her the improvements made upon the initial prototypes...

AMIE held out her right hand, palm up, and eight miniscule yellowish orbs - no bigger than a droplet of water - materialized, floating *above* her open palm.

What are those? Cassius had to ask. He was just too curious to wait.

"These are the interface devices. They will allow you to *see* the holo-interface for your implanted nanoarrays. Please look straight ahead, and do not blink your eyes, until I tell you that you may," AMIE stated simply.

They stood, staring straight ahead as the orbs floated directly into their eyes, flattening out to cover the retina. Cass had to admit, this was a lot more than hed bargained for. Were they going for full sensory overload?

"You may now blink your eyes. The after-effects of implantation will pass, momentarily," AMIE informed them, bringing her hands down to her sides.

Cass blinked twice and began to look around, finding random menus as he moved his eye. Very unnerving.

"To access your control menus, simply *look* at the holo-image at the bottom of your perhipheral vision..." she trailed-off as each person tried accessing his or her system.

Blackwelder moved slowly, methodically through the menus, as Cass started to blink wildly, overwhelmed by the menus. Slowly, they both seemed to get the hang of it.

"Careful," she warned, noticing Norra blinking frantically. "The system thresholds are quite selective, but you will learn the interface quickly, in time." She turned back to T'Shani, who was studying her *own* retinal display.

~Wow...~ There was so much there! COMM..communications. TRIC...tricorder. TEDD...Tactical Eye Display Device, including Infrared, UV, normal, night, and high-gain sensor imaging...

~How the hell had they pulled *that* off?~ even Tish wondered...

"The team is now ready, Captain," AMIE concluded, as she turned to Novonya.

"Very good," Michelle Novonya said, turning to walk toward the portside torpedo bay docking hatch, which was just through the airlock, "Follow me please, single file."

"You'll soon discover that our Holdfast isn't all that she seems," Novonya said with... was that a wink? Cassius decided that it was as soon as they were through the far door and onboard. Gone were the standard accoutrements of a Constitution-II. Bright white walls, cielings and floors all flowed together with no seams in an organic style that was as unsettling as everything else theyd seen so far.

~If they don't get us somewhere familiar sometime soon,~ Blackwelder thought, ~We'll be too overwhelmed to do anything.~

As they passed a crewman accessing a panel, Cassius noted that he wasn't using the standard LCARS data interface. Instead, he seemed to be manipulating some sort of holographic projection. Probably using an optical implant like the one he - himself - was now using.

"So what next?"

"You'll be meeting Colonel Markay'di'n in the ship's armory," Novonya said, waving her arm in 'come along' motion, "After that, you're on your own time. Your TEDDs will show you to your quarters, as well as tell you what sections are off limits." She paused, "That does include you too, T'Shani."

"Oh, but no *fun*, at all, Michelle?" she couldn't help but poke at her friend. Truthfully, she was very proud of Michelle.

The four team members followed Novonya into a circular section, set back into the bulkhead.

Norra looked confused, as the group came to a halt on a different section of... ~carpeting?~ No, not like standard Starfleet traction carpet, this *deck* had an almost organic feel to it: solid, yet giving enough to afford some spring to her step.

"This is our ship's main armory," Novonya said, indicating the blank, empty area.

Tish couldn't believe what she saw next. In a flash - not bright or glaring, though - the colors and shapes of the room they were standing in *melted* into those of a completely different room. They were standing on a similarly-colored 'disk', but in a totally different section than they had been before. Instead of the technicians and holo-interfaces, she now saw what looked like the armory: compression rifles, phasers, and equipment all *floated* eerily in space,all neat in a row. At the far end was Al'indal.

Cassius looked around. He'd trained with many different kinds of weapons during the war, and was no stranger to the ones that were arranged around the room, especially the Federation Sniper Rifle, which he'd achieved expert marksmanship with. Not quite like Corgan's aim, or even Simone Ovrali, the sniper specialist who'd worked with himself and Blackwelder, but he was no slouch.

"Colonel Markayd'in," Novonya nodded to her counterpart, "If you'll excuse me, I'm needed on the bridge. We'll be launching shortly." Without waiting for Al'indal's reply, which she already knew, she spun on her heel and headed for the door.

"Very well, Captain," he said, watching her turn back onto the 'disk' and vanishing as she said "Bridge".

Blackwelder looked at the disk suspiciously. This was getting to be a little too good to be true.

The Colonel simply arched one of his elegant white eyebrows, while addressing the whole group. "That is the...turbolift, for lack of a better word."

~Why am I here again?~ Art nodded sardonically. "So how does that work?"

"It operates by compressing space-time through an artificially generated and dialated Einstein-Rosen quantum filament bridge..." AMIE began, but stopped as Markay'di'n dismissed the explanation with a wave of his hand.

Great. Yet another innovation that his department had spent years working on, only to discover that 'Red Division' had finished already.

Blackwelder sulked quietly, but was extremely put off by the flaunting of technology that was being done.

"Don't worry about it, anyway," the Colonel continued. "You are here to

be outfitted with your weaponry and equipment."

"Starting with you, Mister Henderson," he walked over to one of the stands and picked up a three-dimensional mapping PADD, and a headset that could see through walls, developed with the TR-116 project, and handed them to Cass. "These are yours."

"Mister Blackwelder," he turned to the engineer, handing him a modified

engineering padd and analyzer, "We can provide tools, or you can bring your own."

"I'll take my chances with my tools," Art replied. He wouldn't trust any other tools. Besides, if he did, he might hesitate in the field, and hesistation kills. That was one lesson they'd all learned young.

Next, Norra was given her tools. ~Ooooohhhh....goody!~ she thought as she quickly scanned the *gear* she had been given: a maglock interferance generator, code randomizer, solution routine generator, high-def scanner package, standard lockpick sets, and a box of 'bugs'...those would probably come in real handy.

At Markay'di'n's nod, Tish took over, again, while lifting her own pack

of *things*.

"Allright, everyone. You should be familiar with the equipment you have

just been issued. If not, get familiar with it tonight, before we insert tomorrow, at 0130." She looked around, as the others acknowledged her instructions.

Henderson and Blackwelder nodded in a practiced way. They'd been through this sort of thing many times before.

Tish walked forward toward the *floating* rack of weapons, to the side of the group. As she did so, she noticed a slight vibration through the

ship's deck. They must be underway, now.

"Allright, everyone. In addition to the implanted nanoarrays, we will be carrying some more *standard* - though modified - equipment, as well." She pulled at one of the rifles, which easily came out of whatever force had been holding it aloft with the others.

"This is the Mark IV, Type 3b Enhanced Compression Rifle. It operates the same as a standard Mark II compression rifle that you are all used to, but with a much higher rate and more rapid bursts of fire than it's predecessor." Tish thumbed the safety off, shouldered the rifle and let a concentrated burst off, towards the shooting trap on the other wall.

She turned back to the group, thumbing the safety back to 'ON'. "As you can see, with the higher rate of fire, you'll burn through an energy cell faster than a standard Type 3 rifle. So, be careful."

Tish paused, watching their reactions, then continued, "This rifle is also equipped with a nose-mounted micro-grenade launcher, for a more concentrated shot, should you need it. Any questions?"

~No,~ Henderson thought. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was the damn technical briefings. That was Blackwelder's job, and Art could bring him up to speed in a few hours. Besides, he wasn't interested in the insertion weapons.

"Good," she replaced the rifle into its 'slot', and pulled out another weapon. Instead of the long, smooth tapered barrel of the previous rifle, this weapon looked like an old-fashioned, double-barrelled...

"Shotgun?" Norra asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Basicall, yes, Miss Arroway," Tish confirmed, while slinging the barrel of the 'shotgun' over her right shoulder. "The Mark II, Type 4 Assault Rifle proves to be a more effective short range weapon than the compression rifle and therefore is the weapon of choice in close quarters combat." She lowered the weapon to her shoulder, again, pointing it at the shooting trap.

Tish continued, while again thumbing the safety off, "With more of a 'shotgun' feel - as you said - the assault rifle does heavy damage at close range, but is less-effective at longer distances." She concluded by letting off a loud burst from the rifle. Once done, she again re-engaged the safety. "It also uses more power cell energy per-shot than the compression rifle, so watch your shots."

Placing the weapon back on the non-existant 'rack', T'Shani removed one

final weapon. "Federation Sniper Rifle, new model, with a repeating fire mode for long-range strafing. However, that drains the weapon more quickly than standard fire, so once again, watch your shots. I don't think this needs to be demonstrated, does it, Mr. Henderson?"

"Certainly not," Cass agreed. That was a nicely familiar weapon.

Again, she placed the weapon back into the non-existant 'rack'. Finally, she turned back to the group, once more. "In addition, you will each recieve a standard Mark V, Type 2 hand-held phaser, of which I'm sure you're familiar with, as well as a standard transport-assisted utility belt."

She turned, picked up said-belt, and clipped it around her waist, weaving behind the assortment of blades on her back and thighs. Instantly, the body of the 'belt' seemingly dissolved, leaving only the control interface - the 'buckle' - at the front. Next, while pressing the control, Tish placed the Type 2 phaser near the belt, where it seemingly vanished in the glimmer of transporter beam effect.

Now this was more familiar. Hazard Team tech, Blackwelder realized.

Norra let out a low whistle. Sure beat carrying a 25 kilo rucksack.

"You'll be able to store all of your equipment in this utility belt. To access anything, simply use the quick-access icons displayed on your TEDDs, and the item will be beamed into place," she demonstrated by blinking once, causing the phaser to rematerialize, floating just under the Andorian's hand.

The Colonel stepped forward, taking over. "Okay. Everyone take some time to get familiar with the weapons. Then, you're free to do as you wish, for the remainder of the day. The gym is on deck six, as well as your individual quarters, and ship's lounge. Report with your equipment to the main shuttle bay at 0030, tomorrow morning. Understood?"

"Clear, Sir," Henderson nodded.

Blackwelder grinned. Time to play, and he wanted a better look at this

ship, "Aye, Sir."

"Yes, Sir," Norra intoned with the others.

"Very well then," he finished, while motioning for T'Shani to follow him, as the others started familiarizing themselves with the new 'toys'.

--------------------- Later that evening... ---------------------

=^= Deck 6: ship's lounge =^=

"So, Simone takes her rifle, sights through the scope, and gets ready to set off the charges. The next thing we know, Art's whispering like crazy over the comm, telling Simone to wait. Evidently Sigmund had gotten his hand caught in the door as it was closing, and is stuck right next to all those explosives. And Veloric, for all his logic, didn't think to look back. So we're all standing around waiting to proceed, and Browning is pulling on his hand for all he's worth, trying to get it out. Meanwhile, the base personnel are starting to come to..." Cass continued the story he'd been telling to Sergeant Ridgeway, while Blackwelder laughed. That had been one to remember.

Norra couldn't help but let out a small giggle as she imagined a Vulcan *forgetting* something as important as *that*...

~Everything is going allright~ Al'indal thought to himself as he entered the Holdfast's lounge. Unlike the rest of the ship, the lounge looked more-or-less like what it was: a place to hang out and have a few drinks with your friends, either to unwind - as some were doing - or to prepare yourself for an upcoming mission, as the 'team' was doing.

~But 'allright' doesn't neccessarily mean 'good'~ he reminded himself. No, having served the Corps for nearly eighteen years, he knew that just when things seemed to be going on-track, everthing would get FUBAR'd.

"Colonel Markay'd'in," Ridgeway noticed the older officer, and invited him over to the table, "Come sit with us."

Markay'di'n allowed himself the luxury of mingling with the team. Normally he wouldn't do such a thing, preferring to maintain a suitable air of command-authority. But this case was different, however. As the tall Deltan sat himself next to Ridgeway, he noticed...

"Where is T'Shani?"

"Can't say, don't know," Blackwelder replied, "She just told us she had

something to do."

He nodded his head. After what he had discussed with her, after the weapons training, he supposed she was busy 'planning'. Briefly, he looked out the transaluminum 'window', into the space beyond. Instead of seeing a normal warp effect of streched-out stars zooming past, he saw the odd, glowing pulses of interspace transit.

That reminded Cass. There were questions that he still needed answered, and T'Shani was one of them, "Colonel, you knew T'Shani before she was transferred to the Galaxy. She often speaks highly of you, and that's pretty rare for her to do about anyone as far as I can tell. But she's a mystery to me. Can you tell me anything?"

'Well...in order to understand T'Shani, we'll have to start at the *beginning*..."

"Plotting the Demise of Victor Kreighoff"

Lietuenant Ella Grey
Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter

Ella laid on the bottom bunk of 8-ball's bed, which was where 8-ball's roommate would have been if she had one. 8-ball had told Ella that she had murdered her roomate, someone named Ivanna A. Nichols, when the woman took out an old record of some human singer named Celine Dion. Ella figured the woman probably just got transferred or something.

A sudden, disgruntled yell came from above Ella, shortly followed by a teddy bear flying magestically across the room until it crashed into the opposite wall and collapsed. 8-ball's head appeared from the top bunk to look down at Ella.

The engineer made a series of signs that she knew 8-ball couldn't understand. Sure enough, 8-ball's response was "Huh?"

Ella got up from the bunk, walked over to where the pathetic remains of the teddy bear lay, and picked it up. She pretended to throw it across the room and then gave a questioning look to 8-ball.

8-ball shrugged. "Torturing Eptgac always puts me in a better mood. By the way, how progresses the tormented non-exsistant love affair between you and Monsieur Scary Man."

Ella's face instantly clouded and she threw the bear at 8-ball. She sat down in a huff.

8-ball caught the teddy bear and laughed. "I'll have to meet your dark prince one of these days. He sounds like a pain in the ass. Still, he must be pretty cute for you to put up with his shit. Is he as annoying as that masogonistic musclehead Legate?"

Ella shook her head. She made a 'V' for Victor with her fingers and smiled. She made a 'L' for Legate and pretended to puke.

8-ball smiled. "Well, there's only one thing left for you to do. You're just going to have to show up at his door late at night, wearing next to nothing or just nothing at all, and force him to have sex with you."

Ella scowled and then extended her hand for the teddy bear. 8-ball looked suspicious but Ella waved her hand. She wasn't going to club her over the head with the tortured bear or anything. She pointed at Eptac and made a 'V' again with her fingers to indicate that the part of Victor would now be played by the stuffed animal.

Ella fluttered her eyelashes and made cute little pouts at the bear and then showed the bear to 8-ball. Naturally, the bear had no reaction and a vacant expression.

She did a sexy little strut and then looked at the bear.

The bear was not impressed.

Ella made goo-goo eyes at the bear, redoubled her efforts at her strut, mimicked a striptease, and ended with some heavy breaths meant to simulate orgasam, all of which was intended to say that she would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, where ever he wanted.

The bear did nothing.

Ella threw down the bear, put her hand on her hip, and then looked back at 8-ball, pointing at the bear as if to say 'And that, my friend, is Victor.'

8-ball raised her eyebrows. "Well, if Victor won't have you, you're welcome to come to my quarters late at night and do that dance anytime."

Ella threw the bear at her head.

This time when she tried to dodge the flying teddy bear she got smacked in the face. 8-ball spiked Eptgac. "Well, there's no help for it. We're just going ot have to get everyone onboard the ship to beat the living shit out of him."

She smiled. It sounded good to her at this point.

"On the other hand," 8-ball said. "While I might be bored on Galaxy, spending the rest of my life in jail for conspiring a mass murder for a security officer doesnt appeal to me. However, I'll find someway to get you two together."

Ella nodded, not really taking her serously.

"Just you wait, my pretty. I'll get you and Vicky together, and my little bear too! Now, wanna play some chess."

"Fair Warning"

Principal Characters
Lt. Corran Rex
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

OOC: Continuity note: Takes place before "Can I Get a Lift?"

****
USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters
****

The message was waiting for him when he came in from his last shift, Sub-Commander tr'Khellian having chosen to take some time aboard the asteroid colony and thus being transferred to a team of less conspicuous officers.

He ignored it for a few minutes as he moved around the sparse, empty room, putting away the things he carried now in their places, some hidden, some not. Only when he was finished and he'd replicated a cup of coffee and a plate of his mother's bratwurst with Vulcan onions for dinner did Victor sit down and call up his messages on the LCARS screen.

The first three were offers, and one thinly-veiled order to go off-ship and do something on the colony. The first of the offers was from Geluf, no doubt with the intent of asking Grey along, who was still trying to fix things between them; next came one from Commander Corgan that Victor assumed was to ensure that he'd be left alone by the diplomat scuttlebutt placed as a lover from his past; the last, shockingly, was from Flight Officer Angelienia, who offered to meet him ashore - or aboard - and try and apologize for what she'd done weeks before. The order, unsurprisingly, was from Commander Dallas in Counseling, worded differently than the last three such he'd ignored, but no different in content.

Victor stared at the screen for a moment, and then slowly composed neutral responses refusing all the offers - even Angelienia's - and one declining to obey the order. He sent them off with a touch of his finger, and then scanned the remaining messages. Fourteen reports on Atole Tekri's movements, the climate-control sensor records from Commander Corgan's quarters during Tekri's visit he'd called up, six notifications under the 'All Crew' heading for events planned ashore, a request from his father to contact him about a gunsmithing question, three messages from the automated counter he'd had installed to see how many times his personnel jacket was hacked into - he noted that none of them, yet, were traceable to Tekri - and a lone message from his Aunts.

He disposed of the others sequentially, lingering only on the one to his Father to pass on some personal news in addition to the information he'd requested, and the climate control data from the Commander's quarters which proved that this time, at least, there had been no sexual contact between Corgan and the Romulan agent, Tekri. The last message, he waited until after he'd eaten to open.

Ar'resh smiled at him, filling the pickup for a moment until she leaned back. "Hello dear..."

"one," Rexa smiled from next to her sister on the screen, the two still in their uniforms but obviously relaxing in their shared cabin off-duty. "We just wanted..."

"...you to know that we haven't forgotten..."

"you! In fact, we miss you so much, and had such fun last year, that we thought..."

Victor started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that suggested that he shouldn't have eaten dinner yet.

"...we'd take some more leave time and come to visit!" Ar'resh's smile was as broad as her sister's. "We just got the..."

"...notification that everything's approved," Rexa chimed in seamlessly. "It looks like we'll be able to rendezvous with the Galaxy whenever..."

"...whatever the mission you're on completes. We'd be there now, if not for..."

"...those rules about interrupting diplomatic missions," Rexa finished. "So look for us just as soon as you're done!"

Ar'resh leaned close again. "We want to hear *all* about that nice..."

"...Ella Grey and how the two of you are doing. And we just know that..."

"...all your other friends will be happy to see us - especially that handsome young devil, James..."

"...Corgan and the Kelvan Legate," Rexa nodded. "Especially them."

"And we thought we could..."

"...have a long talk with the young Trill gentleman that has the old friend of..."

"...dear Bernhard's in his head while we were there," Ar'resh nodded.

"See you soon, dear one," they both chorused as the message clicked off.

Victor sat and stared at the screen for a long minute before he sighed and keyed it to his saved messages file like he did with all his family communications. "I suppose it could be worse," he told himself as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "They could be here now. Maybe the Captain will transfer me before they can arrive...."

****
USS Galaxy
Deck 38
Main Armory
****

Entering the armory, Lieutenant Corran Rex ignored the security officers around him (including the ones chuckling at exactly how pitiful his last scores had been), and proceeded to check out a phaser for the firing range.

That 'sense' of his started going off then, and he turned to find precisely who was expected standing behind him. He hadn't heard him, of course. The Trill had a strong feeling that the only ones who ever heard Victor Krieghoff coming were no longer counted among the living. Rex was content that, as long as they both wore the uniform that would never be him.

And if it was... Well, then he'd probably deserve it, if the kid was anything like his uncle, and that was something he did not doubt.

"You're going to give someone a heart attack like that someday, you know, Krieghoff." he stated calmly, ignoring the open-mouthed stares from those security officers who'd been chuckling before. Not doubt they were perplexed as to how someone with such bad aim could be so calm around Victor.

"I have, sir. Twice." Victor didn't appear to be joking. He nodded to the woman across the counter from Corran. "Chief Davidson. I sent the paperwork down yesterday. I'd like my case please."

A distasteful look on her face, Davidson retreated back into the depths of the Armory.

Victor glanced down at the phaser in front of Corran. "Qualifications coming up, sir?"

"Got to try to pass my phaser quals again. One of the side effects of the lack of complete integration with my symbiote - I don't have five centuries of marksmanship. I'm stuck with my own, rather meager talents in this case." Rex replied.

"What's the problem?" Victor glanced back towards the Armory as a thud and Davidson's swearing wafted out to them.

Corran raised an eyebrow at whatever it was the Chief was swearing so... creatively about. "I think it's subliminal, since I'm a very good shot in the cockpit." the pilot responded, with more than a touch of pride and ego in the statement. "I admit that sounds bad, but what kind of pilot would I be without some kind of hubris?"

"A dead one." Victor glanced towards the back of the Armory again as Davidson emerged with a large, oblong metal case, the flickering lights of a high security lock and tracking beacon built into the case moving along the edges.

"That's one way of putting it." Corran quipped, choosing to ignore the rather morbid tone the conversation with Victor had taken. Not that it was particularly surprising - conversations with Victor usually tended to go that route.

Davidson set the case down on the desk and favored Victor with a look at was part fear and part repugnance. "Here it is."

Victor nodded, checked the security lock to satisfy himself that it hadn't been tampered with, adding outrage to Davidson's already crowded expression, and signed for it. "Thank you, Chief."

Davidson didn't respond with anything louder than a glare as the security officer lifted the case by its carrying handle and turned away. Victor nodded to Corran again. "Good luck, sir."

"Care to join me? Beat my scores utterly?" the Trill asked, nodding towards the actual range.

Victor stopped and looked at Corran, eyes expressionless. After a moment, he said, "If you want a coach, you need someone better, sir. I don't teach."

"Didn't ask you to tech me, Kreighoff. I know the mechanics, I just need the practice. I'm asking for your company." the Trill said, not showing the small amount of impatience he felt.

Another almost uncomfortably long moment passed, and Victor nodded. "All right, sir."

"And for Mak'ala's sake, don't call me 'Sir,'" Corran muttered as they entered the blacked-out room, with the only visible item being a small grey dais for them to stand on. "You're not one of my pilots."

"You're a superior officer, sir." Victor set the case to the left side of the door. "I'm supposed to call you that." He straightened up moved to the range control console. "Standard series, sir?"

"Yeah, that works." The trill rolled his eyes at the use of the title again. "I'm not a superior officer, Kreighoff. Merely a higher-ranking one."

Victor keyed in the commands, locked the door and enabled the 'In Use' warning sign, and returned to the central pad. "Protocol is there for a reason, sir. It's the way that Fleet tells everyone how to behave around each other - without it, well..." He shrugged. "There are people that can only do their jobs when I'm around because I follow it to the letter most times. As long as I do that, they know what to expect."

"That," Corran started as he took a first shot at what, to Victor, must have seemed like a laboriously slow target "is just a fancy way of saying you're a 'by the book' type.'

For just an instant, Victor smiled, and something cruel and deadly looked out from behind his eyes. "I think there are a number of people that would disagree with you, sir," he said mildly, the moment, and the sensation, gone. He drew his phaser, and checked the setting, dialing it back down to training levels. "Is there something wrong with following the rules?"

"No, no. I think the book's perfectly fine." the Trill said with a shrug, taking a second shot at the first target. He hit it this time - barely. "Just after five centuries of life, I'm not to worried with following the more nonsensical parts of it."

"It has its place, sir," Victor agreed. "But it was written for an ideal world, and we don't live in one." He shrugged. "On any case, it was written for sheep - not for me. I follow the rules so they know what to expect... until I stop."

"Unpredictability. I can see the benefit there. It's one of the tactics I teach my pilot - use the first half of an extraordinarily simple maneuver, and then split into a completely different one to throw your opponent off. " Corran observed, and eyed his next target.

The pilot frowned in frustration as he made three attempts to shoot his second target. All failed and the computer responded by presenting him with a slower one for the third.

The computer signaled a change-over after Corran engaged his final series of targets with the same mixed results, and started spitting out targets at a faster rate, designed to test Victor's abilities. He began firing with the same expressionless calm he displayed towards most things, target after target vaporizing.

"Showoff." the Trill muttered good-naturedly. "So. When do you think I can get this old man in my head to have a word with your aunts?"

"I'm not the best shot in the department on this range, sir," the security officer demurred as he missed a target while turning to engage one on the opposite side of the room. He engaged three more, missed another, and added, "If you can wait a few weeks, you'll be able to talk to them in person."

Corran blinked a moment. Then, he stuck a finger in his ear, making certain no wax was present. "I'm sorry. I must have misheard. I thought you just said they were coming here."

"I did." Victor stopped as a flurry of targets spread out across the room and he engaged them without moving more than his wrist. This time he scored on six of the eight.

"Oh."

"It won't be so bad, sir. Just don't let them talk you into anything that sounds like a romantic relationship - even for one night." He looked across the pad at Corran, and wasn't Victor anymore, but something colder and far more deadly. "They'd view that as a declaration of intent to enter into marriage, and you'd need to follow through on it - or deal with me."

"Sound advice, Victor," the Trill replied. "Not to mention a certain Commander on the Arizona who'd be a mite upset with me."

"As long as you know," he said quietly - and was abruptly Victor again as the score for his shots flashed up on the monitor - 92% - followed by Corran's - 53%. Victor glanced to the side at them. "You're trying too hard, sir," he offered.

"The hell of it is that even realize that." Corran replied. "My mind's relaxed, trying to get into the zone I use as a pilot. My hands and arms just tense up. It throws off the sho -" Rex cut off as his arm moved almost of its own volition, quickly firing off three shots and hitting each and every target dead center, in a display that nearly matched Victor's earlier performance.

Victor tilted his head to the side wolfishly. "That was much better, sir," he observed. "Do you remember how you did it?"

Corran stared at the phaser - and the hand holding it - as if it was a thing completely alien to him. "I... Have no idea." he stammered out, trying to process it. When it had happened, he'd been talking to Victor.. And for a moment, had felt like when he was first joined, before Rex had developed Trex's syndrome, and he'd been .. Fully integrated .

What in the hell?

"Sir?" Victor asked quietly. "Are you all right, sir?" He shifted position slightly, taking himself out of the line of fire of Corran's phaser.

"I..." Corran started. His mind was awash with possibilities, trying to figure out what had just occurred. He had moments where his symbiosis lost also sense of order, and to be honest, most of the time he was running about fifty-fifty. But for a moment there, just a moment... it had all come together. It was something never observed or reported in any case of Trex's Syndrome he'd studied, or treated as Baledra.

~Curious~ came the Doctor's voice from inside his mind. It made it abundantly clear that whatever level of symbiosis had just occurred, it was not still currently present.

"Sir?" Victor repeated again quietly. "Is something wrong?"

"I've really got no idea, Victor." the Trill replied, trying to find the words. "For a moment there, it was like all the pieces fit."

"But now they don't?"

"Definitely not."

"Then you did something different that time. Do you know what it was?"

"No, I don't." came the immensely frustrated reply. "Victor, I'm sorry. I need to leave. I've got to get to my quarters. I've got the medical equipment there to figure this out."

Victor looked at him for a moment. "You don't need to apologize, sir. It isn't like you need my permission to leave."

"Maybe not. Still polite, though." came Corran's reply.

"Just a thought, sir," Victor said quietly as he dialed his phaser back up to its normal setting and holstered it. "But all the computers and scanners in the world aren't going to solve some things. Some things just are, and the only way to deal with them is to accept that. Once you've done that, it gets easier to deal with them."

The pilot looked askance at the security officer for a moment, not expecting such introspection from such a source. "Yeah. Maybe so." came the reply, and then the Trill was gone.

"Rain of Fire"

Starring:
Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer

Guest-Starring:
Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora,
Council President

Roland Troyer,
Director,
Troyer Compact

Joshua Drayson,
Director,
Drayson Institute

Andrea Drayson,
Judge

Chief Warrant Officer 3rd Class Katrina Olegoski,
Diplomatic Attache [NPC]

Appearances by:
The Galaxy crew mentioned in 'Brave New World'

Audrin Dernos,
Under-Ambassador to Mika sh'Sonora

*****

Banquet Hall
Gryphon Government Building
Lammergeir

Captain M'Kantu's word drew a hush over the crowd that had been listening intently. Mostly, through muted whispers only those closest to the speakers could hear, it was quite unexpected he would deliver such an empathic speech.

The majority of the Coalition settlers had had limited contact with the more politic side of the Federation. Mostly it was a hash of tradespersons, smugglers, business contracts, and those of questionable and not-so-questionable natures. It wasn't often major government representatives would visit the Coalition; there was never a need to.

So it was a combination of awe and frail suspicion they listened to this dark-skinned captain from a Starfleet that never came by.

Captain M'Kantu, for a moment's hesitation, thought he may have erred in his speech; that he had offended the peoples of the Gryphon Coalition in some fashion.

He didn't have the opportunity to make any attempts to grasp the ambiance of the hall, for Ambassador sh'Sonora had again taken up her spot on the microphone, urging the Captain of the Galaxy to take his seat.

"Well said, Captain M'Kantu!" She rang her bell into the microphone, at which time the rear doors they had entered in swept open, allowing a flood of servants to emerge with a variety of courses to satisfy the needs of the variety of species present.

"Let dinner be served!"

****

Approximately an hour later, after dinner had been long absorbed by the peoples present, and mingling had begun with the Federation representatives, there came a rapping from the podium.

Mika and Captain M'Kantu, now near the rear of the cavern making polite conversation with the sinewy Justin Drayson and Commodore Hunter Redinger, the captain of the Drayson fleet, looked to the source with interest. Katrina was near the dais with Roland Troyer, who was now moving towards the rear with Audrin Dernos, leaving the liaison officer behind as she turned her attention to the sound. Corgan and Col. Kensington were nowhere to be seen, Karyn Dallas still at her original table with Laura Sellman and Grant Hruggin, the Drayson and Troyerite judges.

Upon the dais was one of the Drayson judges, Andrea Drayson, Justin's daughter.

"Let us not talk of business this day, everyone! Let us show our Federation visitors what it is like to celebrate!"

A hum that had been lowkey earlier rose in pitch. The Troyerites and Draysons looked forward, silent. M'Kantu kept a watch on the people in the room for any signs of fear or hesitation in the case of a terrorist attack.

"My daughter is Master of Celebrations this year." Justin whispered heartily in Daren's ear. It still didn't relax him any, but the feeling of dread that had crept up in him faded away to the background somewhat.

Above Daren, he now knew why there wasn't any lighting. A circular sheet had begun sliding away to reveal a glorious view of the asteroid system, with the Galaxy coasting above, its maneuvering thrusters holding it in place against the asteroids that were determined to pelt it.

Behind the dais, another series of metal plates lowered away to reveal a grand canyon dotted with the lights of colonial domes that resided on the surface. Most of these domes housed the factories and business ventures of the residents of Lammergeir, docking systems for smaller craft, terminals for various functions.

Then, to finish the illusion of complete suspension, the metal plating swept away underneath them, to reveal the housing complexes far below. There was a large fair going on far below. Even from this distance of a kilometer above, you could see the giant ferris wheel rolling; the rollercoasters warped and twisted in what would be impossible shapes on a planetoid, shifted and twirled all about.

"I hadn't realized we were so close to the surface, Director." Captain M'Kantu was in awe of the vision lain out before him.

"Such is the nature of gravity plates, Captain. You never know which way you are going until you're there." Commodore Redinger, a short stocky man of possible Russian descent just by his chiseled look and bearlike figure winked as he tossed back a snifter of the local brew.

Then the space above them lit up in a vast crosswork of fireworks and patterns. Bright flashes stitched their way across the horizon.

This went on for some time. The Troyerites and Drayson's had finally found a way to start talking to each other, albeit briefly and obviously out of being in a polite and hospitable spirit.

"What's that? More fireworks?" No one knew who said it, but from Captain M'Kantu's standpoint, he didn't know if the rest of the people nearby looked up as well.

Several balls of bright light grew larger in the starry backdrop. Daren ruminated at what the glowing spheres was for only one short minute before realizing what it really was. They were traveling in a straight line with no deviation.

"DOWN! GET THOSE SHIELDS BACK UP!!!!!!" Unfortunately for the Captain of the Galaxy, these were not people of military training or background for the most part. They were simply not quick enough.

One of the fiery balls impacted the communications array, shattering it. Screams resonated as the citizens of Gryphon scrambled in absolute horror from the sudden attack.

"Commodore, get your ships up there now! Find out who is doing this and why!" Justin Drayson had to scream over the terrified shouts. The firey balls of light rained down around them, the controls to clamp down the blast shielding reacting slowly. The Director of the Drayson institution, coupled with Captain M'Kantu, made every attempt to guide people out, but it was like blowing smoke at a stampede. A ball slammed into the dome above them, cracking it minutely. It would have shattered if not for the metal blast shielding absorbing most of the impact.

"Director, go!" M'Kantu gave him a shove, but not before he was caught up in the stampede. As he fell into the corridor beyond, his upturned face saw the frightened looks on all the faces that had been so happy previously. He looked down and saw fires breaking out in the amusement park below. There were flames all over the city. The Galaxy hung above them, its lights out.

What had happened?

The dome cracked, imploded, and just as suddenly as the crowd had rushed the exit, they were sucked back by the rush of vacuum. Andrea Drayson, her face startled, was the first to go through the ever-widening crack. Her body instantly crystallized and imploded.

"Andrea!" Justin rushed for his now disintegrated daughter, but M'Kantu held him fast, slamming the over-ride control that would clamp the doors shut.

"No! What are you doing??!!" Drayson looked on in horror as the emergency bulkhead doors sealed shut, taking away the lives of those inside. Daren closed his eyes, as the last thing he saw was Katrina's deep brown eyes pleading with his own.

Then she was gone, and the silence roared.

****

Just before the fireballs had hit the observation deck above, there were a lot of happy souls singing, dancing, riding the ferris wheels, roller coasters, and winning prizes for the girls. There was a puppet show, replaying a famous televid show that aired weekly here. The children laughed with the parents.

When the first fireballs hit far above, simultaneously below here, set charges went off. The ferris wheel moorings snapped, sending it rolling off, trampling numerous patrons. Most on board died.

The roller coaster snapped, sending its carts off into the upper regions, to come down with a crash some distance away.

But the worst part... the absolute worst was one of the satchels that went off was behind the puppet stage. Dozens of children were instantly disintegrated in a bloody wash that coated the initial survivors. Many more were injured, some terribly disfigured.

****

Above, on the Galaxy, a nameless shadow operated shortly after the first signs of the fireballs showed up on sensors. Before the Galaxy could pinpoint the location, its sensors shut down. Being that the ship kept its shields close to the skin, it could not deflect any large pieces, including the flaming balls, which penetrated its forward shielding to impact on the communications array, snapping the antenna unit off its mooring to float away casually.

The lights went out on Galaxy.

****

All across the Coalition asteroids, similar events occurred.

Everywhere except the main Troyer locations, that is.

((OOC: Takes place during 'Rain of Fire' - Laurel))

"Interruptions of the Unexpected and Unwelcome Kind"

by
Emmett Bregman
Documentary Team Leader/Interviewer

&
Flight Officer Jasmine Heloi
Executive Officer, Vanguard Squadron

----

Actresses were all the same. All blab, little content, and even less brain power between their pretty little ears. Sure, I had heard that Miss Jasmine Heloi was some sort of engineering major with a masters in physics from the Vulcan Science Academy - but, really. A smart actress?

Rundell decided to give me the whole 'though shalt not alienate Starfleet's favorite PR girl' before I even met Miss Heloi, which really didn't serve to help my mood. So what if she was an ex-actress? Sure, she might make more people want to join Starfleet...but really. An actress? Starfleet was going down in the world order, if you ask me.

Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum had been unable to decide who should hold the camera during the interview, so I was stuck with both of them - one on lights, one on camera. I had to have a stern talk with them to always keep focused on the actress' face. For some reason, they tended to get rather annoyed if the camera kept drifting further south. I can't fathom *why* - especially since most of them were hired for their looks rather than their brains...

Ah well, time to meet Miss Jasmine Heloi, aka Starfire.

----

Emmett Bregman leaned back in his chair as he had done thousands of times and smiled at the pilot sitting across from him. If anything, Jasmine Heloi was prettier in person than on the screen to judge from the drooling sounds he was positive he was hearing from behind them. Ignoring the noises, he began, "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Flight Officer Heloi."

"The pleasure is mine, Emmett. I may call you that, correct?" Jasmine's musical contralto filled the room as she smiled genteelly at the director.

"Certainly, certainly. Shall we begin?" Without waiting for Heloi's response, Emmett spoke, "Why don't you tell us what do you do here on the Galaxy?"

"I'm the XO for Vanguard Squadron, the Galaxy's fighter group," she answered simply.

'Great,' he thought, 'Another one of those oh so informative ones.' "A fighter pilot, then. And why did you decide that you wanted to fly a fighter?"

"It's all about the speed. The thrill. I'm an adrenaline junkie, if I say so myself," Jasmine said as she leaned back against the cushions, "Being in a fighter brings the action and the excitement all that much closer - knowing that there isn't much between you and space but a thin hull and shielding."

"You've had several careers in your short lifetime, Jasmine. Why did you decide to change from being an actress to flying fighters for Starfleet?" Emmett asked, knowing without looking that both Dale and Shep had moved somewhat closer behind him to catch every nuance of Heloi's expression and behavior. It'd be cute if it wasn't so damn annoying.

"To put it simply, I knew that acting was only a transient experience for me. I loved acting, the theater isn't exactly something one can let go of easily. However, being in show business is very fickle. One minute you're on top, the next your show plunges in ratings and you're yesterday's news. I knew that Starfire was heading down that route, and having the education that I did I knew that my skills could be put to use in Starfleet. So I applied and was accepted. Now, here I am."

"Yes, here you are," Emmett agreed amiably, "How do you feel about being assigned to the Galaxy? Especially with her reputation?"

Jasmine laughed, "Ah, reputations are just as fickle as show business. Just because a ship, or a person, has a reputation it doesn't mean that those reputations are always earned or even desired. The Galaxy does have a good reputation and from what I've seen in my time aboard her it's well deserved. I'm proud to serve her as I would be on any other starship."

"Would you be willing to share some of your experiences while in Starfleet? Incidents where your skills were needed as a pilot, etcetera?"

"Well..."

It was at that moment, when Jasmine's lips were frozen on the 'well' of her response that it happened. Bright flashes of light sped past the window to impact on the side of the asteroid base that the Galaxy orbited. Blossoms of fire lanced outwards in a beautiful display of pyrotechnics. Emmett shouted for Dale to get the image even as another impact occurred - only this time it was on the Galaxy itself.

The ship rocked from the weapons fire and the wail of a red alert started before being silenced as every light in the Galaxy went out.

Jasmine's first words as darkness fell were a series of curses that would have made even the saltiest sailor blush. The room was lit only by starlight reflecting from outside and a faint glow from Emmett's 'DayGlo' chrono. Heloi stood and followed the couch to it's end. More shuffling in the semi-darkness echoed through the room as finally a light turned on. The beam of the flash light highlighted Emmett Bregman's face and the worried expressions on the camera crew's faces. "Emmett, stay here, I've got to find out what's happening."

"What's happened?" Emmett asked dubiously, "Can't you tell? We've been attacked."

"Ya think?" Jasmine snapped irritably, "If the power is out, we're blind and deaf both. The only chance we've got is to get the fighters outside. I've got to go. Stay here, Emmett, with your team. I'll come back for you."

"Like hell you..." Emmett began even as the lights came back on.

"Stay here," Jasmine repeated, only this time pulling out a second flash light which she tossed to him. Then, with barely a glance or a pause for his reply the Betazoid was out the door at a run.

The last words Emmett heard before the door slid completely shut were Jasmine's as she hit her communicator, "Heloi to Vanguard Squadron," by calling the squadron name it should give her an all-call to her pilots, "I need everyone at the fighter bay asap. We've got to deploy the fighters. If I know my engineering, that hit struck somewhere near our sensor grid..."

And the doors slid shut.

----

Great. Just abso-frelling-lutely great. Garth didn't tell me that I'd be covering the ship in the midst of an attack. This was *supposed* to be a peaceful mission. Like hell. Garth's going to owe me big time when I get back - especially since I didn't get to finish my interview. Damnit. And now everyone's going to be running around like chickens with their heads cut off thanks to this mess...

How the hell am I supposed to work in conditions like this?

"Silent Voices"

by
Lt. Curtis Geluf,
Chief of Operations

Curtis awoke a full 30 feet from his previous position. At first, he was unsure of his whereabouts, but a quick glance around the room brought him back to reality.

It was a wonder he hadn't broken anything on the fall. Looking down at his arms, Curtis noticed a gash along the left one. Nothing major, but painful nonetheless. Hardly noticable compared to his ears.

There were thousands upon thousands of voices from miles around. Crying, screaming, shouting in pain and loss. Even Curtis, who had spent his whole life surrounded by the voices of others so many miles distant, was having a hard time coping. There were frightend children's screams and the wailing of mothers as fathers and brother gave helpless shouts of frustration and anger. The devestation was vast and all-encompassing. Curtis watched a moment as people began to compose themselves.

He had seen all of this before, so many years ago, on his own world. The same cries, the same shouting, everything. The only difference was he was crying himself, back then. He had lost friends and family. The crimes had been against him. Now he was a spectator, watching his own planet's war unfold before him. Same hate, new location.

There would be survivors unable to escape building wreckage, he knew. Children so scared and so in shock they would shout at the top of their lungs for help, but only squeaks would escape. Under any normal circumstance they would be lost, with no hope of rescue.

But not today. Today, they has an ace in the hole: a Kerelian unwilling to let a mother suffer where he could prevent it. A Kerelian determined to help where he could not help himself all those years ago.

Curtis stood up gently and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and slowly, clearing his mind and dulling his senses. All his senses, that is, except his hearing.

After several seconds he stopped breathing. There was nothing now but sound. No feeling, no thoughts, no smells, no sights. Only sound. Instantly Curtis was aware of every soul in the city making a sound. His ears visably stretched upward forming a point on each.

He filtered through the onslaught of noise hitting him from all sides. Sifted through the voices to try and find something, anything that might lead him where he was needed.

It didn't take long.

A child. A girl from the sound of it, he was sure. A kilometer off. She was calling for help, but the sound was so faint even to Curtis in this state. Slowly the OPS officer turned in the correct direction. Then, centering the sound, he ran.

Curtis' eyes remained firmly closed. He took in no air. He lept over debris as though he could see it. He weaved through people and wreckage. Faster he ran, faster then he had ever run. She was getting closer, he was almost there, just a bit further.

And then he stopped dead and opened his eyes. Before him was a pile of wreckage several feet high. She was in there, he could still hear her. He began to tear into the pile, focused only on the voice. He tossed aside piece after piece of debris, digger ever deeper in to the mess.

A hand. He could see a hand. Another piece of trash tossed aside. She was here, he had found her. Still calling, still unable to shout. He stopped. She was bleeding, badly. Her leg was almost gone. She turned to face him, she was no older than 8. HE had been 8, he remembered. She was beautiful.

He smiled at her, "Everything will be ok."

A nod. She yawned and closed her eyes.

She did not wake up.

He did not stop weeping.

"Terraforming----Terror Forming"

Ens Miguel Sandoval

Dr. Teeda Chhou

(13 Million kilometers from the Galaxy)

Somewhere in the midst of the vast Gryphon Asteroid system, there floated a nameless chunk of rock. Approximately 150 miles in diameter (quite medium sized as far as asteroids go) this particular rock was the center of an unusually large ammount of political debate amongst the Gryphons. One faction favored turning its flat sunward surface into a large series of Agtricultural domes aimed at making the Gryphon system more self-sufficient in feeding itself.

The other faction.....suspicious of their neighbors expansionistic tendencies opposed the Terraforming project and viewed it as a wasteful....and dangerous endeavor.

While the two sided debated endlessly however there weare at least two persons in the system who were actually doing somthing constructive by investigating the site first hand and seeing if the whole thing was even possible.

The first such person was the dark haired form of Dr. Teeda Chhou representing the Lammergeir Science Counsil, and the other was the very inexperienced Chief of Botany aboard the USS GALAXY: one Ensign Miguel Antoino Sandoval.

The pair had taken a very slow in-sytem shuttle out from Lammergeir to inspect this particular rock, which orbited much closer to Gryphon's sun. It had been a long boring four hours traveling from where the GALAXY was moored out to the Terraforming site, but at last the two were able to gear up and step out onto the proposed asteroid.

Alone on the surface of the tumbling rock it seemed to these two scientists that they were the last persons in the universe.

Lammergeir and the USS GALAXY were millions of kilometers away...much too far for their puny suit radios.....and thus the only sound was that of their own breathing and the subtle crackle of static that was the solar wind.

Engrossed in their tasks the two lonely figures in ancient space-suits crawled slowly over the surface of a large flat asteroid finding more problems than solutions for their proposal.

Sandoval hadn't done any real space-walking since his second semester orientation seminar on the surface of Earth's Moon, but he found his mind more occupied with the desolate nature of the proposed Terraforming site than with the rather shoddy nature of his borrowed spacesuit.

Unlike Standard Starfleet issue suits....all polished and sleek in their design......the Gryphon suits were of a decidedly more 'vintage' variety.

Bulky balloon-like limbs, thick clumsy gloves, and a positively ancient goldfish-bowl helmet completed the rather sad image of the suits. If Miguel had stopped to think about it the very real risk of a suit leak would have frightened him to the core.

Instead, with a critical eye, Miguel Antoinio Sandoval examined the glovefull of powdery dust in his hand and shook his head in disgust. "I think Dr. Chhou..." he said sadly as he let the dust filter through his fingers and back to the Asteroid surface, "....that you will have better luck in importing a viable soil culture rather than making an attempt at this locally."

Standing off to Miguel's left, Dr. Chhou of the Lammergeir Science Council crossed her thickly padded arms as best she could and sighed. "Its not as though we have much of an option here." she explained. her voice rang hollowly in Sandoval's glass helmet. "The Terraforming project is politically touchy at best, and having to invest huge resources in importing so much soil......well that would be sure to kill the initiative."

Miguel was only half listening as he pondered the site. Through the strangely distorted view of his bubble-helmet he scanned the distant horizon of the Asteroid. "Hmmmmm....land seems fairly flat enough." he mused, "How much acreage did you say you had here?"

"A little over 30 square miles currently." Dr. Chhou sniffed, "There are possibilities for excavation of another site which could double the acreage, but the council elected to test the site viability before proceeding."

Miguel nodded silently, his nose itching a bit. 300 years of spaceflight and they STILL havent figured out how to design a helmet that could let you scratch your nose.

Running his gloved fingers through the powdery surface dust once again he considered the little grooves he left behind. Expeimentally he stuck his finger straight down into the dust as far as it would go until it met resistance.

Four inches.

Dr. Chhou took note of what he was doing and shook her head. "Topsoil....such as it is....is limited to no more than six to eight inches maximum with 3 or so being the average.

Miguel looked at her incredulously. "This isnt topsoil." he sighed, "Solar radiation has sterilized it to the point its no more nutricious than talcum powder. Whats beneath the dust? What about the underlying layer?"

"This is an S-Type Ateroid" Chhou answered. "Compressed Hematite....Magnesium Silicates...nothing special."

"Nothing suitable for agriculture either...not by a long shot."

Chhou shrugged. An akward process in the bulky space suit.

"Right....nothing else about this site is suitable either." Miguel sighed.

Turning his eyes upward he considered the intense glow of the Gryphon system Primary hanging in the sky above.

At this distance it was about the same size as the sun as seen from Earth, although the color was a bit off

Miguel thought it was a bit odd that no other stars could be seen in the blackness above, but then again the very first APOLLO astronauts from Earth had remarked on the same thing.

When the sun was 'up' on the Moon it also drowned out visuals of the starry sky.

"Okay lets work at this from the top down then." he said at last "What about atmosphere?"

Chhou sighed...her voice crackling over the suits speakers. "Well obviously that is the hardest part. Biodomes are the only real viable solution since the gravity on these rocks are too minimal to hold a conventional atmosphere even if we could manufacture one. The council has been looking into some surplus domes on the open market, and have got a lock on two older Vulcan models with options for a third." She shrugged, "Obviouly runing multiple small domes are more inefficient that one larger one, but a custom built model for the site would be too cost prohibitive for the council."

Miguel nodded sadly. It was a shame in this day and age that the Federation couldnt just provide what the Gryphon's needed. Why did everything have to be about money and politics? "I assume radiation shielding comes standard on those domes?" he asked.

"Oh absolutely." The Doctor nodded, kicking her toe slightly at the dusty surface. the spray of dirst drifted lazily in the micro-gravity. "Otherwise even if we did manage to produce an arable landscape the solar radiation would sterilize the soil again inside of a month."

She glanced upwards at the Star as if to underline her point.

"Which brings us back to the question of soil quality." Miguel sighed "Unless you go in for Hydroponics you are going to need an arable nitrogeous topsoil layer of at least two to three feet. If importing the entire bulk isnt an option then were going to have to manufacture a starter culture."

Dr. Chhou looked at the starfleet officer strangely. "A Culture?"

"Its kinda like producing a bacterial culture in a petri dish, but on a grander scale." he explained. "We hand manufacture a few acres of topsoil, and then seed it with an viable Lumbricus terrestris so we can......"

"Excuse me," Teeda interrupted. "Seed it with what?"

"Earthworms." Miguel grinned. "Common soil-dwelling helminths, which serve the double duty of aerating the soil and fertilizing it at the same time with their excrement. In a large enough population they are self sufficient and can convert even this sterile dust into topsoil. You just have to give them a good plot to start off with."

"Sort of like jump starting them." Dr. Chhou was pickin up on the idea. "They expand outwards from the initial plot and gradually aerate the entire dome."

"Exactly." Miguels grin faded then and he kicked the sterile dust at his feet. "Only problem is the GALAXY doesnt HAVE any Earthworms in stock. I just about fainted when I first discoved this, but by then we had already left dock. " He shook his head. "How can you leave Spacedock without worms?" he asked.

"And what about the nutirents for the starter plot?"

Miguel was wishing he could rub his neck. This bubble helmet was heavy even in microgravity. "Well....Ive been thinking about that. theGALAXY has a couple of metric tons of non-specific bio-sludge which is used as the basis for food replicators. I figure if we drain the ship's tanks we can just about prepare a few dozen acres to seed the earthworms into."

"You're gonna drain the ship's entire food supply? Wont Starfleet get hacked off by that?"

Miguell blinked and looked confused. "We can always go back to Starbase and get more......If we dont do our best to help you terraform this site then what are we here for?"

Hobbling slightly in the micro-gravity, Dr. Chhou bunny-hopped her suit over to where Sandoval was standing. "I'm not sure what your superior officers briefed you on kiddo, but as far as heard the Federation is only here as diplomatic liasons between the Draysons and Troyers. It still hasnt been decided if you guys will even suport the terraforming project in the first place, let alone help os build it?"

Miguel shot a horrified look at Teeda as if told the most horrible news imaginable. "...not even going to support the.......Why the heck are we here if not to help get this Agri-Dome built?"

Teeda shrugged. "Dont ask me brown-eyes......I just tell you what I read in the papers."

Miguel grimaced and looked down at the dust. Starfleet wasnt even interested in bringing life to a once barren rock. This wasnt about plants....it was about politics.......typical.

He opened his mouth about to say somthing else when he noted an odd shadow pass over the ground beneath him. "Say Teeda...there doenst happen to be anybody else in the area?"

"No....we're far away from any sort of settlement....why do you...."

-------W H U M P -------

Miguel didnt so much hear the explosion as he FELT it. The vibrations traveled through the rock easier than the hard vacuum around him.

It was sufficient to toss he and Dr. Chhou off their feet to land sevral meters away in a halo of powdery dust!

"What the...." he coughed, brushing frantically at his glass helmet to clear the dirt off his view.

"Explosion?!!??" Teeda gasped...her breathing loud in his ears. "I dont understand ....there're nothing here of value.....its just a rock......."

-------W H U M P -------

Flying though the air again Miguel caught the fleeting sight of a pair of armed system shuttles hovering low over the surface of the asteroid. Humanoids dressed in the same sort of bubble-spacesuit as he was were emerging from the airlocks grasping menacing looking weapons.

"Pirates..." he breathed not quite sure of his interpretation.

A silent flash of light from the strage weapon, and the dust around Miguel's ankles was suddenly spurting into the air.

~~~Slug-throwers~~~ his brain informed him musing at how the normally noisy weapons were eerily silent in the vacuum of space.

Unfortuantely this being a supposedly scientific mission, Miguel had crammed his pockets with diagnostic equipment rather than weapons. He didnt even have a hand phaser with which to defend himself.

"Teeda!" he gasped, "They've got guns...watch out......"

Another noiseless flash and a sudden violent tugging at his left leg cut off the rest of what he was about to say.

Knocked to the ground, Miguel heard the sudden bone-chilling hiss of escaping air from somewhere around his knee.

~~~PUNCTURE!!!!~~~ his mind screamed.

Frantically feeling for the leak, Miguel was quite unable to bend forward far enough in the bulky spacesuit to reach ...or even see the leak. However, the stabbing needles of intence cold running up his leg told him that the puncture was serious.

"Teeda....." he gasped, "Ive got a leak."

The last part came out as a squeak as he felt the breath yanked from his very lungs.

Cant breathe!

Cant breathe!

He grasped at his chest where his Comm Badge was supposed to be, but unfortuantely it was buried beneath the bulky layers of the poorly designed space-suit.

~~~Galaxy......~~~ he thought vainly. The Starship was a four hour trip away from him anyways.

Cant breathe!

The universe swam and then faded from view.

Miguel's final vision before the blackness was of the approaching space-suited figures bounding their way across the dusty plain.

"Hunting"

(Takes place immediately before, and simultaneously with, 'Rain of Fire')

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Ensign Cora Dobryin

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 11
Gymnasium

Victor paused in the door to the gym, checking to see if there was anyone using it before he bothered to continue with what he'd planned. The Sub-Commander might be off-ship, but that was no reason to stop carrying out his assignment - it was actually more of a reason. Without Savar or Tekri present, he could check the things he'd needed to for some time, and lay plans for things he might need if this was where the Tal Shiar agent decided to make her move.

The gym was empty, unsurprising considering both the hour and the fact that the vast majority of the ship's compliment were currently ashore, enjoying the celebrations at the colony. The faint smell of perspiration hinted that it hadn't been empty long, but Victor saw no sign of them - if they'd been here, they had already packed up and left.

It took only a moment to place the additional concealed sensor jammers that Bolivar's department had provided, tripping the switch that set them to activate as soon as they detected the dropping of the ones the Engineering staff had installed at his request. Victor suspected that jammers were at least a full generation behind the ones Bolivar used in his own operations, but that was fine. The man was too much the perfectionist to have authorized the use of inferior equipment in an operation aboard his own ship. If Bolivar said the jammers would work, then they would.

He checked the equipment, satisfied himself that the pieces Savar used hadn't been tampered with, and made a sweep of the rest, just to be thorough. It was all clear, not that he'd expected anything else. It didn't feel right for Tekri to be trying something here - not yet. If she were going to do it now, it would be ashore, where the crowds and confusion gave her the edge.

Satisfied that he was done there, he moved into the men's changing rooms and swept them for concealed image scanners and the like. Again nothing, but that was also to be expected. Savar never used the same locker or shower twice in a row, as much, Victor thought, out of habit as concern over Tekri. The security-consciousness that seemed to be bred into Romulans above a certain social level was an asset this time, making his job easier. If nothing else, Savar would do what he was told when the time came because he was used to having security personnel protect him.

Victor completed his sweep, installed the jammers, and moved back out to the main gym, crossing the floor to the women's changing rooms. Just a few jammers to install and then this was done, and he could change and try another hunt on the holodeck. It would be Terran lion again, he decided, and if that went well, maybe an Andorian Ice Bear. He wasn't ready for the Power Cat again, but he would be soon - maybe even before the shore leave was over if it ran long enough.

Two steps into the women's changing room he knew there was someone else there. Three steps into it, he knew it was a woman. At the fourth step, he knew that she used the same soap and shampoo that Tekri had from the day she'd been able to purchase it aboard ship: a pricy brand from Alpha Centauri that smelled of their native Chokra flowers, and that only sold in small quantities. He smiled into the empty room. She must have come back early, the scent was too rare to be someone else.

Maybe he could hunt something besides lions today after all.

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 11
Women's Gymnasium Locker Room

Cora expected to have the women's locker room all to herself at this hour. The gym was hardly used and that's exactly why she had sought it out as a place to gather her thoughts. To put it mildly the Intelligence analyst was very surprised to see another officer standing there, yet alone a male officer.

"What the..." she pulled her towel a bit tighter around her. "I assume you aren't hard of hearing?" Not waiting for an answer Cora continued, "Why in all the known universe are you standing in the women's locker room when you could clearly tell someone was in her already?" The expression on her face indicated she wasn't too happy at having her shower interrupted.

Victor frowned. Obviously he'd been wrong, someone aboard the ship besides Tekri *did* use that shampoo.

"You're not who I thought you were," he said quietly, eyes unreadable as he looked at her. The woman, he realized, was just outside the range that he normally started to affect people so she didn't know - not yet. "You use the same shampoo that she does."

"As who do does?" Cora asked quickly searching for a T-shirt or something to put on besides just the towel. "That still doesn't explain what you are doing in the women's locker room when someone, namely me, is showering."

"Hunting." The tone of voice in his reply implied that the answer to her second question explained everything, despite his ignoring of the first question she'd asked.

This was getting out of hand it had already been a very long day, so this wasn't something she needed to add to it, "Cora Dobryin, Galaxy's new Intel analyst." The introduction was very short but it would hopefully shed some light on who he had stumbled into.

"Victor Krieghoff, Security." Again, his tone implied that was enough to answer all of her questions. "Do you use that shampoo regularly, or have you just started?"

She thought that was a very odd question. "I've used if for as long as I can recall."

He frowned. "I'll remember that," then nodded without further expression and offered, "Your shirt is to the left, behind the duty jacket and pants.

"Thank you but I do remember where I left my uniform," Cora snatched her shirt and put it on while still keeping the towel in place, "Now if you'll excuse me I'd to finish dressing without an audience. Or I could call one of your counterparts from Security to come drag you out of here."

Victor looked at her for exactly three heartbeats and then said, "Pointless. The only ones in the department that could do that are ashore." He started forward, finally entering the range that his presence started to affect people as he made for the door to the showers. As he moved past her, Cora finally noticed the jammers with their adaptive camouflage outer surfaces in his hand - jammers that had to have come from her department. "I won't be long, Ensign."

She'd never said exactly when she'd file the report or that there were ways of tracking down the appropriate individuals if needed. Briefly the jammers registered in her mind. Something that seemed more than a bit odd and this officer was totally ignoring her request for some privacy. Cora had a right to that. "Apparently you didn't hear me before," her voice rose, "I said GET OUT NOW." He could easily finish whatever he had planned later.

Victor stopped and looked at her for a moment. Apparently she was another one that he didn't affect the way he did most - or her range of realization was much smaller than normal. "Ensign," he offered after a second, "I assure you I have no interest in you in any way that would be influenced by the sight of you without clothing, nor do you have one in me that might require the same state of dress. No one sane does and admits it." The words were calm, without inflection, and somehow terribly sad in his apparent total acceptance of their content.

"You think I was telling you to get out of here solely for that reason, then you have missed the point big time. It's called privacy - something that is human nature but doesn't necessarily have anything to do with my state of dress. The only way that factored into the whole equation is the fact I can't exactly go running out of here even though that's what instinct says. Which brings me back to asking you to leave."

He frowned. "I know what privacy is, Ensign, I just don't get any so I don't worry about anyone else's - but since you insist." He turned and moved back to the door, stopping just before the blind corner that led to the gym. "I'd like your opinion when I'm done though - I need to know if the jammers are placed inconspicuously enough to avoid detection."

The whole encounter set off alarms in Cora's head. What exactly was going on here and why did he just ask her for a favor? "I'll see what I can do."

The security officer nodded once and then vanished around the corner silently.

Quickly Cora finished dressing. All she really wanted was to get away from Victor Krieghoff. It had taken more than twice for him to agree to leave. Even then she suspected he didn't totally give her all the privacy he should have.

Cora had no sooner finished dressing than it seemed Krieghoff was back, standing much closer than she thought comfortable - or even possible given the elapsed time. He nodded once to her, and then moved past her to the showers. "Where do you get your shampoo?" he asked as he examined the area and placed a jammer.

"I really don't have time for this," Cora moved towards the entrance, away from Krieghoff.

"Ensign." His voice shifted tone, becoming something official now. "The only other person on this ship who uses that shampoo is Sub-Centurion Atole Tekri. She started using it seventeen hours after boarding the Galaxy, making only two individuals to so do. Yours must have come aboard with you, because you haven't bought any here - am I right?"

"That is correct," Cora remembered she first received some as a gift and this container was part of that.

"Then would you be willing to consider halting the use of it for the duration of the Sub-Centurion's stay aboard the Galaxy? I do not anticipate needing to take lethal action based solely on my sense of smell, but after initially misidentifying you once based on it, I'd like to prevent a second occurrence. I assume that you would as well. Would you be willing to do that?"

Cora was about to answer when a violent impact rocked the ship. Slowly she picked up herself up of the ground from where she had been thrown. On the surface everything appeared ok but she was certain any injuries from that fall would surface later. "I'll see what I can do. However I really must go now I'm needed in Intel." She made a quick escape to the gym then the corridor to report to her assigned duty station.

Victor was already reaching for his combadge as Cora dashed out. =/\= Krieghoff to Security. Who's hitting us? Where am I needed? =/\=

There was a pause, and then calm voice of Skore, the Vulcan at the main desk replied, =/\= Assailants are unknown at this time. I advise you that you are the senior officer in the department aboard at this time - please report to Security Main. It is inadvisable to use site-to-site transport at this time. =/\=

=/\ Understood. =/\= For an instant, Victor wondered what it would be like to start a fight without the ship's metaphoric pants being down around its ankles as he started to run for the nearest turbolift. =/\= On my way. Institute standard protocols and see who's in charge aboard. =/\=

=/\= Aye, sir. =/\=

As he cleared the gymnasium doors, Victor wondered what was happening on the colony surface, and then thrust it aside. There was time for that later, just as there was time to finish his preparations to hunt Tekri later - he had other problems to handle, other hunts to worry about, right now.

"Batting With A Broken Bat"

Commander Cassius Henderson
Executive Officer,
USS Galaxy

Mention of:
Lieutenant JG Cameron Bartlett
Lieutenant JG Maggie Pike
Ensign Robert Biessman

****
USS Galaxy,
Deck 1,
Main Bridge
****

Cassius was sitting in the command chair, watching the main viewscreen. After getting off the comm with Judge Drayson, he had the Galaxy moving past the great viewport over the main banquet hall. She'd called to coordinate the inspirational flyover of the Galaxy that would kick off the official celebrations. He felt filled with pride to be commanding the Galaxy at such a momentous occassion.

The ship was half empty at the moment, and he had been feeling just as empty. Rima's departure had left a void in his life that he couldn't seem to fill. The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could let go of Rima, respect her wishes, and move on, or he could wait, take some leave time, and go track her down. It was as simple as that.

In the meantime, he was the executive officer, a fact that he was now coming to terms with. It was unexpected, sure. It was very sudden, sure. But he was becoming more accostumed to it, and would be good at it with time. And moments like this, when he felt like he was making a difference, the void was filled with pride.

Until it all came down.

The explosions came seemingly out of nowhere, crashing into the open viewport of the Lammergeir Government Building. Cassius shot to his feet, calling out, "Status Report, I want to know what's happening, now! I need an origin point on that."

"Sensor's aren't responding," Lieutenant JG Bartlett replied from Ops, his two superiors off at the celebrations. After a few tense seconds he finished, "It's no use, Commander, the entire system is shot and whenever I try to go around a problem, the place I'm going fries."

"Transporters, bring our delegation back," Cassius said, as a few more seconds ticked by. The fireball seemed to recede, then dissapeared. On the viewscreen, Henderson watched in horror as a massive crack appeared in the dome, and people began to be sucked outside, along with massive amounts of debris that had once been the splendor of the banquet hall.

"Belay that," Cass quickly redirected, "Begin mass transport from the banquet hall, they've suffered a breach in the dome."

"Transporters not responding," Bartlett said, poking frustratedly at his console, "Damn it! I don't understand what's wrong! I need Lieutenant Geluf."

"Shield systems are failing," Ensign Biessman reported from tactical, "Sir, it's like a systematic shutdown, like a virus."

"Then get a distress call to Starfleet Command..." Henderson trailed off as a fireball slammed the Galaxy hard, knocking him to the deck, along with many of the other Galaxy bridge officers. The lights suddenly went out, and for a few terrifying moments the bridge was plunged into what they all feared would be perpetual darkness.

Then the backup lights came on, red as the blood spilled below. Somebody was moaning in the background, injured in the impact. Henderson could feel the pride dissapear, replaced by another emotion: righteous anger. He would find those responsible and bring to justice.

"Status Report," Cass called out again, his senses beginning to return, "Systems?"

"Shields at minimum power and holding."

"Weapons off-line."

"Sensors down."

"Communications... Toast," Bartlett reported after standing to check his console. He'd been looking over Maggie Pike, the flight controller, whose unconscious form lay prone on the deck. "It seems our shields went down right before the attack hit. It was a precision strike, sir, and it cut our communications array off. It's drifting away... I think. It's hard to figure out, with the system as frelled over as it is, and sensors mostly off-line."

Henderson frowned, "Somebody get a doctor up here," he said, "Transporters?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Damn," he said, "Our shuttles?"

"Report from the flight deck says that the hangar seems to be clear," Pike's replacement reported.

So, they were blind, deaf, and dumb. They couldn't see, hear, or speak. They really couldn't act either, not with the ship in the condition that it was in. And that was what Cass had to work with. The ball was in his court so to speak. Captain M'Kantu, Captain Stuart, neither could help him now. He was up to bat.

"Red Alert. Get Flight Officer Heloi to take the Vanguards out for a look around. Retrieve the communications array if that's possible," Henderson ordered, setting his goals, "Contact Chief Petty Officer McTee on the flight deck and have her crews start going over the shuttles with a fine toothed comb. I don't want any more surprises. As soon as one's ready to launch, I want two Rogue's to take it down to the surface and find out what's going on down there. Send Victor Kreighoff and anyone else he wants to take. I want reports back. Let's make it happen."

His orders give, Cassius moved up to tactical to help Biessman make sense of his damaged board. The high probability of sabotage weighed heavily on Cass' mind, and the fact that a dangerous Romulan Operative was onboard didn't help that too much either.

[Editor's Note: This written work is a stand-alone tale independant of the episode at hand and would be considered 'non-canon'. It's an amazing piece of work and is showcased as such]

"The Origins of Colonel Regina Kensington"

As narrated by Lt.Commander James Lionel Corgan

NRPG: I was heavily influenced by 'Kill Bill', especially the Origins of O.Ren Ishii. So sorry if this is a ripoff.

To understand Colonel Regina Ophelia Cassie Kensington, one had to look into her past for the answers.

Regina Kensington was born on Earth, in the city that was to become her namesake. Regina, deep in the less densely populated sector of North America, in what was once called Canada. She was born to rather undistinguished parents. One was her mother, a local farmer's daughter named Megan Senft, and the other, a Manchester born Brit called Kent Kensington, whom worked as a hired hand in the local wheat fields and cattle ranches. It did not take long for shy, unworldly farmer's daughter to fall head over heels for a man with a strange accent and a broad chest. They both married a mere year after they first meet, at Megan's father's field, while he unloaded grain silos.

Seeking a life of their own, Kent and Megan Kensington signed up for the Federation's colonization program. It was always their dream to have a farm of their own, and with the elder Senft's blessings, they headed to Drayson IV to start their own Quadraketracele farming operation. One could say life was hard during the first year, but Regina's mother was a descendant from hearty pioneers, and her father was unbearably stubborn when it came to holding onto his dreams. Eventually, their farm grew, and they made a decent living.

Eventually, a baby hit the picture.

That baby eventually turned into Regina. She was born on a day with lightning, not exactly a good sign.

She was their only child, and was treated well, though one would expect from a person with such a bad sign that she would be abused, or born with incredible bad luck. That is not the case with Regina Kensington. As she grew, she believed that luck was something made by you, and that random events were just that... random. Whatever happened... happened, and luck had no say in it.

In her childhood, she believed that everything was a direct consequence to her actions, and it was her proactive approach to problems that started digging holes even she couldn't get out of...

************** Regina Kensington, Age 10 **************

"Ugly! Ugly! Little miss ugly!"

All the girls started chanting together, forming around in a semi circle to keep the young Miss Kensington against the wall. The malevolent girls of her school, the mean, popular schoolgirls, were always mean. But never as mean as this... not until now. It had to start when Regina, after having her fill of the teasing, told the most popular girl in the school (and her arch nemesis, and leader of the current gang accosting her) to 'Blow it out your ass' when asked why she was so big and ugly.

It was noted before that Regina Kensington was a huge, imposing woman. As a young girl, she could have easily been mistaken for being a thirteen year old, but at ten, she was just too tall, muscled, and brutish for the others to handle. And so, she was the brunt of their teasing.

Retaliating only made it worse.

"What'cha gonna do about it, Little Miss Ugly!" The leader of the pack, a pretty blonde lass and another farmer's daughter, taunted. She threw a piece of fruit she had in her lunchbox at Regina, splattering the pulpy fruit all over her lilac dress. Another child threw a tomato, and it hit her head with a wet slap. The juices ran down her cheek, mingling with tears.

What was she going to do about it? No clear words of English could explain what she wanted to do, so she screamed a banshee howl of rage instead.

A minute later, the popular girl's head was bleeding from a gash she took when Regina bashed her head on the wall. The other girls, scared of the brute and the way she manhandled the pretty blonde leader, ran off screaming...

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

She learned a life lesson that day, though one would ask if it was really for her benefit.

One, she learned how to scare people away. She wasn't that adept at winning people over, and she would not want to put up with the bullying that happened during the first four years of her schooling. Therefore, she settled her problem in the only way she knew how. It was with fist and foot, violence and threat, and the act of carrying it out that stopped the name calling.

It didn't stop people from talking behind her back. The popular girls' methods became more sophisticated, relying on pranks and rumours, whispers behind their backs and the usual high school tripe that showed humans in their less evolved forms. There was no way for her to fight such tactics, so she withdrew, keeping herself separate from the social scene, staying away to avoid the names that were only said behind her back.

She was an island unto herself. But even alone on an island, one is bound to be lonely. She filled the void with sports, becoming the best provincial athlete in the southern sector of Drayson IV. She was a wrestler, a track and field expert, and a defensewoman in her all female hockey team, the Drayson Southrons.

She knew nothing else. Smart enough when it came to books and mathematics, but her true strengths were physical. She could end up as a farmer's daughter, married to a hired hand, flying off into the dark reaches of space to find a farm of their own like her father and mother before her, or else she could use her strengths, and do the only thing she thought was natural.

She joined the marines.

And the job fit her perfectly.

By the time she was in her twenties, Regina Kensington was not an ugly woman as the girls would call her in her past. At the same time, she wasn't exactly the paragon of beauty either. If she was five foot four, most men would find her appealing when she was at the academy. Athlete toned body, the curves proportioned just right, and straight, voluminous black hair, with blue eyes that could cut crystal. Yes, she was beautiful, at five foot four. But she was six feet tall, and an imposing sight at that. Enlarge everything, the hair, the hips, the bust and the waist, and you had a woman more fit for an Amazonian culture than a beauty contest. Add a face permanently soured by her harsh, isolated life, and it created a woman that was difficult to approach.

She naturally passed with flying colours, just in time for the Dominion War. She was part of the 551st recon, and it was there she found her best friend.

We call her Rifleman Nora Bateman. Not built like Regina, no, the opposite in fact. She was normal height, and a little on the skinny side. But she was tough, determined, and sunny. She could crack a joke with the boys, and talk seriously with the girls. She was also a farmgirl from Drayson, though from a different area. It was these extroverted qualities that helped Nora befriend Regina. It was the first time Regina Kensington could feel at ease around another, and it was the first time anybody could approach Regina without a scowl and a warning.

Both took a liking to each other. Their friendship was solidified on the battlefields. It was also the place where their friendship died...

************** Corporal Regina Kensington, Chin'Toka System **************

The runabout shuttered as another photon blast erupted off their port bow, added by the shock of rumbling at mach speeds through the planet's atmosphere.

"This is what they meant by 'shake, rattle and roll', huh Rock?" Nora patted Regina on the shoulderplate of her battlearmor, as she unlocked the safety from her phaser rifle, waiting with a wolfish grin.

"Sure is, Noob." Regina calmly jested. It was a private joke between the two female marines, and their callsigns. Nora Ophelia Onassis Bateman, initialized, spelled 'Noob', while Regina Ophelia Cassie Kensington spelled 'Rock'. Both nicknames fit perfectly. While Regina was the calm, steady rock of the platoon, Noob carried the fresh faced, joyful, rancorous side that carried well after a night out with the platoon to a questionable watering hole, an attitude, as well as a young face, that usually was mistaken for a new person on the fronts.

Both were far from new. They had a year of fighting in them, and their platoon was about to gain another couple of years worth of experience on this latest jump.

"GET READY TO MOVE OUT!" Barked the orders of their CO. This mission was going to be a direct landing at a front, deep in trench territory. Directly into combat, for the incompetent (in their eyes) Starfleet Security battalion was about to be overrun by Jem'Hadar warriors. It was up to the Marines, once again, to bail them out and save the planet.

One final shutter came about, as Regina peered out a porthole. The ground was rapidly coming about. It was once a beautiful field, but now was a blasted, mud strewn, brown morass as hundreds of artillery rounds and phaser sweeps kept the ground barren. Trenches coursed like arteries and veins, the violating cuts scoured deep in the planet's skin. The World War One trenches on Earth were still visible after so many years. Was this also going to be the destiny of Chin'Toka?

No matter. Regina fastened her helmet on and readied her rifle. She was a marine. It was her job. The environmental scars were not her concern. Hers was the lives of men and women, either saving them or taking them. That was all that mattered.

"Lets do this, Rock." Nora looked back at her companion, smiling, though her eyes told a different story.

Unchanging, Regina replied, "Sure thing, Noob."

"MOVE OUT!"

The runabout doors flung open, sucking in a mouthful of foul, rotted, burned air. The marines rushed out, with the two in the front rank automatically opening fire on their first targets. It was a scene they practiced many times, and the marines fanned out, finding their targets, and firing when the kill was just right.

Regina and Nora spotted their first. Keeping side to side, they dove for the trench while spitting grazing fire at the Jem'Hadar warriors.

The runabout lifted off, gusting dirt as it tried to avoid anti-aircraft fire.

"No way out, eh Rock?" Nora whooped, flinging a grenade at the enemy trench line.

As Nora came back to her rifle, spraying the enemy positions with phaser fire, she did not notice (and to Regina's defence, neither did she) a development on the front.

A pocket of resistance was being pushed back. Starfleet soldiers behind the Marine's position were being wiped out, and it was the last line. The Jem'Hadar soldiers slaughtered for the Founders, unceasing, shifting in and out of subspace like ghosts.

The Marines didn't know this, but an ambush was fast approaching. The first Jem'Hadar soldiers took cover behind the Marine's position. They waited, the patient soldiers, until the time was right. Minutes later, the Jem'Hadar fell upon the marines, and both sides were locked in close combat.

For the credit of Nora and Regina, both fought well. Extremely athletic, both could handle Jem'Hadar warriors in close combat better than most. Nora felled two of the soldiers with her rifle before being approached, then fought off and rifle butted a third into unconsciousness. Regina herself instantly went into the fray, snapping one soldier's neck, then fist fighting the other. A third tried to hit her from behind, but she grabbed the unlucky warrior's skull, and bashed it on the walls of the trench.

"Take that! Ya want some?!? Ya want some more?!?!" Nora bellowed in rage, pumping out shots with her rifle at whatever enemy moved. So deep in her battle lust, Nora was single sighted and minded. She saw the enemy in front. Never behind.

It was her error. Regina caught a glimpse of a Jem'Hadar wielding one of their spearaxes. With a wicked, tooth filled grin, the warrior thrust the weapon between armour plates, spearing into skin with a sickening, flesh filled squelch. Regina saw Nora's body cease up, spasm, and sink to its knees. She could see the surprise and fear in Nora's eyes, and the blood trickle from her mouth, as she fell into the bottom of the muddy trench.

The last of her anger was spent that day. Combining in one rage fuelled moment, Regina bull rushed the Jem'Hadar. In her rage, she tore out his Ketracel white tube, broke his wrist to disarm his weapon, and then used the spearaxe to bludgeon the warrior to death.

There was no stop to the hacking, while the name of Nora escaped as hell borne shouts out of Regina's mouth. **************

She was not the same woman after Nora died. She lost her friend, her love, the one person that mattered to her more than her life. Nora Bateman was given the posthumous Medal of Bravery. Regina put the medal in her casket herself.

After the war, Regina had nowhere to go. She told her parents about the war, everything except her love. Her parents thought she was doing well, though they could tell that the war was forever going to haunt her. But it was something they could not help.

Regina Kensignton was promoted a few times. She was still a competent marine, though now more withdrawn than ever. She had no vice to fill the void, so she kept her pain to herself. It was her work that helped even things out. She tried to become a better Marine, and took assignments were danger and promotion came hand in hand. As a Major, she came to the Federation Embassy on Lammiger, in the Gryphon Coalition. The Gryphon Coalition was, as her mistress Mika noted, 'the wild west'. It was perfect for a woman who wanted danger, to make up for surviving where Nora didn't. With a fledgling terrorist organization on the loose, it was the perfect place to wait for death.

Until she meet Mika sh'Sonora.

************** Major Kensington, Gryphon Coalition **************

"A new arrival today?" Regina Kensignton cocked her eyebrow, "Interesting."

The current ambassador was aged beyond reproach. His eighty years as an ambassador were eighty years too long by Regina's account. He was old, stubborn, and he was inflexible as a political leader. The day of Joseph St. Mark's retirement was a day of celebration by all the staff, including the Marines that he liked to browbeat.

On her shift, Joseph was already gone. She was on the shift that was to greet the new arrival. Rumour has it that the new Ambassador was competent for a change. A bit decadent, dressed too opulently for an Ambassador, learned from a rumoured corrupt Ambassador from the Lanjep system, and a bit of a frail wallflower according to scuttlebutt. But if she could lead, everything else was excusable.

"Shhh... she's here." Corporal Singh, her Sheik partner, hissed.

Both officers stood ramrod straight, not flinching, not even moving when her nose started to itch. The doors were about to open and reveal their newest master.

And it was nothing like what they expected.

There was some credit given to the rumour mill. She was a wallflower, a pretty, shortened, frail little girl the colour of a Nerkosian Teal Lilac. The new Ambassador was Andorian, with short, snowflake hair, and antennae that swayed relaxingly. And her dress was opulent, a orange and blue kimono like suit etched with flowers and birds flying upwards, and topped off with a umbrella, frivolous since there was no sun on Lammiger.

The real surprise was the way she carried herself. A pretty flower, yet one that carried itself well. Her calmness radiated presence that put every person at ease. The way she gently shuffled her feet and moved her hands spoke of a woman who would not harm even a mosquito if it came down to bite.

"Hello, officers. I am Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora." She bowed her head politely, "Thank you for greeting me."

Regina was disarmed by her presence, feeling a twinge in her heart that ached when she thought of gentle Andorian. What a foreign feeling it was, to have her heart ache and her stomach feel giddy, so much so that it almost broke her marine like stoniness. This was new.

No, not new at all. This was how she felt the first day she meet Nora.

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

So she went on as Mika sh'Sonora's personal bodyguard. Even sunshine can go through the cracks of a cloud, and so was Mika's presence, like the sun, going through the moody clouds that veiled her life. As the months passed, Mika and Regina got to know each other more. The more Regina knew about Mika, the more she grew to like her charge. Her pretty appearance hid roots strong enough to break through the hardened core of Regina's heart.

But did Mika know how Regina felt? No... not yet... there was always a problem, and it directly involved me.

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

"So... do you have anyone special in your life?" Mika quizzed Regina Kensington while they sat at a local café. Mika enjoyed this spot the most, since it held the view of a popular public garden. It often reminded them both of the worlds they came from, lush compared to Lammegir.

It was their favourite place to go for the past few months. It was where they went to celebrate Regina's promotion to Colonel. They went there to celebrate Mika's birthday. It was also the place to go if they wanted to shuck off the roles of Ambassador and Marine, and just be normal women for an hour a day.

Regina did have someone close to her heart, but she was gone. Already, there could be someone else. Did she dare ask? No, Regina opted out. "No, I have nobody."

"A shame." Mika whispered, momentarily taking a small sip of her Rakdegino, "Because I thought I had someone before." Her eyes looked up, star filled, dreaming and wondering of alternate histories, "He was a handsome man. Would do anything to help, even for a stranger. He was brave, kind... a bit foul mouthed, but straightforward. He would attack problems head on and defend people. That's what I liked about him..."

"Who was he?" Regina questioned, though disappointed. She was hoping for someone else. Someone closer. Someone who sat right across from Mika as she enjoyed her coffee, unaware.

She continued, "But I hope he could see me. In a way... I hate that too."

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

It took a few months worth of prodding, but Regina found out the name of that man.

His name was Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan. He was also a Dominion War veteran, haunted by his past, attempting to find peace and resolution in a universe without aim. To Regina Kensington, however, I was also a threat, and the sole source of Mika's only distress.

I knew nothing of Regina Kensington when I first meet her. Looking at her profile, and seeing what she really is, I can understand.

But when I meet her, I had no such advantage, and it baffled me why she acted the way she did when she first meet me...

"Borg Sex and Stiffies"

OOC-takes place just before the grief in RoF.

Ahdjiia finished her shift and decided to stop off for a light drink before heading home. The Little Ones were already fed as she'd stopped home briefly on a break and tended to them. She looked around, noting some friendly faces as well as new ones and bellied up to the bar.

8-ball noticed Adhjiia sit down and then looked back over at the barkeep and ordered another drink. She was on her fourth drink but far from sloshed. . . . she could drink a Klingon shuttlecraft driver under the table with relative ease. The barkeep, failing to be a mysterious, intriguing woman who somehow knew all the secrets of the universe and enjoyed comforting all of her woeful customers, served 8-ball her drink without speaking.

8-ball sighed. As usual, she was bored, and wanted someone to talk to. Her glance fell over the woman who had just sat next to her. She was beautiful but mildly imposing at 5'11" and looked like she could step on 8-ball if irritated enough. 8-ball didn't particularly feel like being stepped on but she needed someone to chat at, if even a complete stranger about an entirely random subject, so she drank a sip of her drink, turned to face the tall woman, and said out of the blue, "So, how about them Borg?"

"The farther away they are, the less I have to worry about spending the rest of my life in bad S & M gear.", Ahdjiia said with a smirk as she sipped her Altair water.

8-ball snorted. She didn't what she had been expecting (probably a strange "who are you and why are you talking to me" glance), but that wasn't it.

"You know, that almost hits exactly on a deep, philosophical topic I've been wondering about quite some time. Okay, so the Borg are all into integrating culture, right? So, they've got to have picked up sex, and then all the various, various forms of sex. So, I'm wondering if the Borg do have sex because I know that'll sure make me more efficent in the morning with a good night beforehand. I mean, I bet it'd make it much easier for assimilation. What do you think?"

"Sex would work better than thier Resistance is Futile line.", Ahdjiia smiled, "Though I wonder how fast they could get out of that formfitting outfit of thiers fast enough."

8-ball nodded. "It is kind of a turn-off," she agreed. "Borg guy goes up to his Borg Chick, they're getting all hot and heavy, and then Borg Guy is like 'Okay, let's get it on' but then takes a half an hour to undress. It sort of takes all the fun out of everything, really."

"Certainly blows the spontanaety of the moment to put it mildly.",Ahdjiia said with smirk.

8-ball smiled. This was so relaxing. A nice conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with anything serious. "My name's 8-ball. And may I ask who you are, you who are so wise in the way of Borg sexuality?"

"Ahdjiia D'Tinya-Bolivar, Security."

"Well, Ahdjiiia D'Tinya-Bolivar, Security, what exactly is a nice looking young woman such as yourself doing in a place like this?" 8-ball wore a lazy smile on her face. "Long day?"

"When are they not?", Ahdjiia smiled, "Something always comes up."

"Oh no, you don't get to get out of it that easy," 8-ball said. "Come on,come on, tell me about your day. If we are to sit here and talk we must share the woes of our life and so on and so on until at least one of passes out or does something equally dramatic." 8-ball took the last sip of her drink and then ordered another one. "Come on, spill. What's come up today in the life of the Borg Tantric Master?"

"Well, nothing today.", Ahdjiia said, "Though when I first arrived on the ship, not long after we were boarded by Orion pirates and had to deal with pheremone emitting fembots who had all the males on board in a state of heightened sexual arousal."

"REALLY?" 8-ball asked, much interested. "Man, did I come on this ship in the wrong month. Pheromone emitting fembots. We should have had the pheromone emitting malebots. That's what they should create. I mean, when AREN'T men in a state of heightened sexual arousal?"

Ahdjiia laughed loudly, bending over from the belly laugh. That most certainly described her husband, Saladin. "You should have seen this...",she managed to gasp out, "I do believe new chapters to that Terran book...the Kama Sutra would have been added during that time."

8-ball giggled. "Oh, that book's behind the times. I know MUCH more that could be added. Aw, but dammit, I wish I had been here. That sounds like an awful lot of fun." 8-ball raised her eyebrows as she looked at her laughing companion. "Did you have any fun? Or was it more laughing at the expense of all the men on the ship gone wild?"

"Well...one did have ample opportunity with those males who weren't able to find a fembot to take care of thier needs...", Ahdjiia grinned.

"Not fair," 8-ball sighed, shaking her head. "I've been looking around the ship but all the cute ones are either taken with another woman or taken by their job which they love passionately and are forever bonded with it. I was starting to think that some of these men never got horny. What fun it would be to be a fembot."

"If you were bi, you'd have more options available.", Ahdjiia said as she sipped her water.

8-ball raised an eyebrow. She had never really considered herself so much as "bisexual" as much as "open to ideas". But she had to admit that she wasn't the straightest flyer on board, and she could be turned on just as much by a woman as by a man. "Well, I am, sorta," 8-ball said, "but really, you get just the same type of problems. I mean, think about it. I'm sitting next to another beautiful woman in the bar and have been talking to her about matters of sex for the last twenty minutes or so. That's farther than I've been with in a man in the last four months. But assuming you weren't straight, let me guess: you're taken, right?"

"Married, to the Chief of Intel. But if I were single, so far you've definitely been my type."

8-ball smiled. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or wondered at a woman whose type includes strange girls at bars who bring up random conversation about Borg and bisexual sex. But thank you, all the same. Still, that's what I mean. Beautiful women who like me are married to the Chief of Intel. Women who aren't married don't tend to like me. It's a sad thing. Oh well."

"You'll find someone. I never expected to end up married, much less to the Chief of Intel."

8-ball tilted her head. She had really never known anyone who had been married, unless her parents counted, and obviously, that didn't work out. She couldn't imagine being married herself. It wasn't so much as the idea of never having sex again except for with one person but the idea of being so completely in love with someone. 8-ball didn't think she'd ever been in love like that before. "What's it like?" she asked, curious. "Being married, I mean? Is it great like people say? Or is it really not?"

"He has his moments.", Ahdjiia said, "Most who deal with him find him quite stiff..he is like that at home, though in a more pleasant sense."

8-ball snorted. She didn't know if Ahdjiia had meant 'stiff' like she had heard it, but it was still funny. Still, it didn't really answer her question. "I mean, do you get bored, though? Are you really content to spend your life with him?"

"He is nothing like who I would have been bonded to amongst my people, and he is quite the stubborn one.", she said, "But, for me....he is different."

8-ball watched her for a minute and then shrugged. "Well, maybe someday. I don't think I'd be very suited for marriage, though. I think I'd drive my husband crazy." She thought about that. "That could be fun."

8-ball drank the last of her drink and slid off her barstool. "Well, it's been a pleasure, Ahdjiia D'Tinya-Bolivar, Security, Borg Sex Maestro, but I should be going. I do have to eventually wake up in the morning and that is not a lovely process at all. So I shall take my leave of you."

"May the hangover be mild.", Ahdjiia said with a smile.

8-ball bowed. "May the husband be wild," she replied and left ten-forward with a smile on her face.

--Vampi Digitalwytch

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