"Come, Reap"

Elsewhere in the Breen system...

"Acknowledged."

Approximately one Astronomical Unit out from Breen, on an entry point precisely asymmetrical to where the Federation ships penetrated the defense net, there hung a densely packed region of asteroidal debris and wrecked space vessels of the past. Every spacefaring race had a graveyard of sorts for their older and disabled ships. Some time ago, the Breen had defended an outpost here from a vicious attack by some species long forgotten in the annals of their history. It was a single engagement of this one foe, at which were never seen again after their utter annihilation at the superior ice creatures who inhabited the worlds of this system.

Now, it served another purpose.

"The defenses are deployed by our allies?" The hiss following each word was ominous, like a snake on the verge of poisoning its prey, which wasn't that far off from the truth.

"They report a two cycle window for completion, m'lord." As dark as the control node was, the dense humidity cast protracted light off the glowing panels that operated on minimum power, siphoned off from the organics that were fused to the ship.

The great bulk, slid off its mount to approach an alcove set into the rear of the node. Harsh, raspy tones, followed by the low hums of resonant chanting rippled underneath and alongside. It felt as if it were all about.

"Then let us ask the gods for their grace as we prepare for our destiny." A great hand, outstretched, splitting up into three sharp talons etched with red lace along the tips. Clutching a gaffe as it stood out from the alcove niche on its left, the being sharply twisted it to the left. Another hiss, a jet of steam, and a panel slid open, ejecting what was recessed beneath.

A pedestal, made of dark marble stone three feet wide, two feet deep, and 4 inches thick lay out. The being, having twisted the ejection module to release the monolith, lay down upon its knees. The other creatures, numbering 4 in total, followed suit behind.

The bridge darkened to ebon, to be replaced by a single beam of light that shot from the ceiling 6 feet above the pedestal. It coalesced into a dancing colour of light a couple feet in diameter slightly above the marble. Spinning faster, faster... the chanting grew to a murmur, the hissing into a pattern of song that mesmerized all.

The five raised their eyes to gaze at the prism of light as it fractured along its surface, cob-webbing itself as it collapsed into its proper form.

"Praise be, my goddess. Bless us as we prepare for our oncoming test of faith. We are your humble servants and cry your name in ecstasy." The form settled into a snowball pattern, crystalline in appearance.

"Oh, my lord goddess Astra, your child shall be avenged. We shall reap and offer the survivors to your judgment, lest you require sustenance." The chanting rumbled on behind the commander, still on one knee as her crew was behind.

The Crystalline Entity increased in flux, and its lights danced one last time on its surface before finally glittering out. The commander raised on her feet in companion to the minor lighting on the bridge.

"As one, our hearts beat with our goddess, and as one, we shall return her to former glory!" The humming rose to a feverish chant and abruptly ended as her words did.

"For the glory of the Kingdom!" The ship rumbled its content.

"Poor Reflection"

Principal Characters

Captain Elaithin Jii
Legate Kylar Curran
Legate Abigail Pryce-Randall
Counselor Karyn Dallas, RN
Counselor Navarre Shinta
Commander Arel Smith
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff
Lieutenant Cole Cantrell
Counselor Ammalyn Lywhyn
Ensign Zeke Wikkins

****

"Two hours it is, Governor." the Captain replied, as the team begin entering the designated set of rooms.

As they entered, Lieutenants Kreighoff and Cantrell both raised a hand, and each raised a small detection advice. Familiar with such devices during his days as a Security Officer, Jii knew that the two were sweeping the room for listening devices. At least three were found and deactivated.

"These three were easy to find." Arel told the Captain. "There's probably more."

"No doubt." Elaithin replied. "However, there shouldn't be anything we say behind these doors that we can't say in front of the Breen, right Mister Cantrell?"

The cyborg was already on it. Using the passive sensors inside his body he managed to isolate certain signals similar to the ones the Breen used in his own universe. As soon as he had saw the originating points, he ordered the datacore to access the signals. Carefully he superimposed his own signal on top of the real signal, much like the filter Jaal had installed in his own datacore, only much more simple. "None at all Captain.. " he said with a shrug, but held up a finger to stop anyone from speaking. As soon as the datacore acknowledged it was his signal that was being read by the Breen and not the real one he lowered his finger. "Alright. Be quick. You only have a few minutes of free airtime.."

"Understood." Elaithin nodded. "Allright. We've had the first meeting. Impressions, everyone?"

"I must say I am surprised. They have more culture around here than was obvious from the information we had been given." Shinta said. "This can mean that they are developing more of a culture, and as a consequence they are growing as a species. Interest in culture could mean less interest in war. And I stress the word could."

Karyn nodded. "Indeed. Interest in the finer things in life and in military strength aren't mutually exclusive. Some of the most culturally rich societies in the galaxy also pride themselves on being able to defend their way of life from any threat."

She looked to Jii. "If you want my neutral view, I'd say Governor Born acted exactly as I might expect given the distrust on both sides that must be overcome. My gut still says there's more going on."

No shit, Arel wanted to say. Instead she diplomatically grunted in agreement.

"Exactly as one would expect." Elaithin agreed, emphasizing the first word.

"Of course there's still more going on." The Kelvan diplomat snorted as he looked up from a sheath of paperwork he and Abigail had been sorting through in preparing their presentation.

"In any negotiation of a treaty between two long-fought opponents, a battle still continues to wage on both paper and verbally. It's a continuation of a Cold War. Each side is angling for leverage in obtaining more of an advantage over the other. It's bartering, Counselor. Something you aren't familiar with. You don't give away your whole advantage in one session." He shook his head in disbelief. Whatever deity each of these fools prayed to help them all if something should occur to the Legates and Jii.

The Counselor decided she wasn't going to give the Kelvan the pleasure of successfully baiting her, and acted as though she'd not even heard him.

"It isn't about us all suddenly being one happy family now that we are in their realm. Not everyone thinks pretty thoughts like you counselors do. We aren't about to hold hands and run through fields of roses."

"Kylar." Abigail said then, drawing the other Legate's attention. "That's quite enough."

"We may not be about to hold hands, Legate, but I'll settle for no one shooting at each other." Elaithin commented. "I think we all know there's something else going on here. The key will be how quickly and how willingly the Breen let us know what that is - whether they meant to or not. I - "

"Captain." Cantrell interrupted. "Time's up. Someone's coming, as well."

Pryce-Randall frowned at that. "How could you possibly know that."

The Security Officer answered with a cold smile, and pointed at the side of his head. "Good ears."

The doors swished open then, and in walked a man that Elaithin Jii had not seen since several months before his departure from the Galaxy. Commander Christopher Kell Thomas, former Executive Officer of that vessel, exiled to Breen by Captain Bhrode while he, Captain Price, Commander Peterson, and Karyn had been on their clandestine mission to Romulus.

The years had not been kind to the Commander. He looked as though he'd taken up drinking with his assignment here, and, unless Jii was mistaken, he was drunk even now. The Bajoran felt himself quickly growing angry with the man, baffled at such unprofessional behavior.

"Well well." Thomas slurred. "If it isn't... *Captain* Elaithin." he said, emphasizing the rank in a more-than-slightly jealous tone. "Here to pick up the pieces, are we? I don't know why you think you'll be successful. The Breen don't take anything related to the Federation seriously."

"If all they've seen is you, Commander, I cannot possibly imagine why not." The Bajoran replied with a heavy layering of sarcasm.

"Listen to how high an mighty this guys sounds now, Karyn." Thomas replied, rolling his eyes as he spoke to the only other officer in the room he knew. "Too big for his britches. I remember when he was just a little scruffy Bajoran Ensign.....

"That is enough, Commander Thomas." Jii stated coolly, emphasizing the rank. "You are a poor reflection on yourself, and an absolute disgrace to the uniform you're wearing. You are relieved of your duties. Mister Wikkins, please escort the Commander back to the Embassy, and confine him to quarters. It's quite clear he'll be no help to anyone."

Victor examined the drunken officer visually, and ran a quick scan that only confirmed what his senses had told him - Thomas was not faking his intoxication. Wikkins could have handled him sober without any trouble, doing it now was nothing to be concerned about.

Wikkins returned a moment later. "Good Captain. The Breen guards insist that Commander Thomas must remain with us."

"Not getting rid of me that easily, Jii." Thomas said, with a seemingly perverse sense of pleasure.

Elaithin uttered a small curse. "Very well. Mr. Wikkins, the Commander here is your responsibility. If he says anything remotely out of line, you have my permission to shoot him."

"A Tip of the Gloved Hand"

Principal Characters

Captain Elaithin Jii

Legate Kylar Curran
Legate Abigail Pryce-Randall
Counselor Karyn Dallas, RN
Counselor Navarre Shinta
Commander Arel Smith
Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff
Lieutenant Cole Cantrell
Counselor Ammalyn Lywhyn
Ensign Zeke Wikkins

Commander Christopher Thomas

*** Two hours pass ***

As punctual as the Breen are, like clockwork they appeared. Governor Born, flanked by a pair of personal assistants as per their shimmering blue sashes draped from the left shoulder to right hip stated, appeared on what hadn't been noticed previously as a large observational screen that peered out upon the glacial landscape. The window portal had darkened into a viewscreen.

"That's one of the hidden listening devices, I take it." No one noticed who had spoken as Born immediately began to speak.

[Greetings once again, Ambassadors of the Federation. I see you've become acquainted with your official Envoy already] Chris Thomas, who arrived some 90 minutes earlier by being unceremoniously *introduced* into the room by way of a stagger, was blissfully snoring at the conference table, alone upon the side that the Breen had been assumed to be seated upon.

"We regret the actions of the Commander, Governor." Curran sneered at the Starfleet officer drooling on the table to his left. A rather large puddle had formed, still connected by a sliver of saliva on the right side of his mouth.

"His behaviors in no way reflect the nature of the Federation in its essence as it relates to designated diplomatic personnel and officers with Starfleet." Born filled the screen with his upper body, the presence of disdain emanating off the screen. His arms had been crossed, which in itself was a sign of closing off. he would not be so open-minded towards negotiations. If only there was an even more remote and godforsaken post to send Thomas so as he does not interfere with any more alliances to be chartered. It would be a sorry state of affairs indeed if a war was touched off with Breen due to the imbecilic actions of a drunk.

[As borne witness, it must now be an unforeseen conclusion as to why I place more faith in the Federation representatives than I do Starfleet. Our limited exposure to them through this buffoon only enforces an already tainted opinion of your military branch.]

"As a representative of that organization, Governor, you have my formal apologies for his behavior. He has been relieved of his duties, and when we return to the Federation, he will face a full Court Martial." Captain Elaithin offered, still more than mildly annoyed at the human officer.

"Then let us get down to business, Governor, and begin." Kylar didn't have to look to the other members of the party for them to understand their need to keep their feet out of their collective oral orifices.

[We extend apologies for not attending the discussions alongside you. You must understand that we have yet to build a trust, and prefer to remain in our own element until we do.]

Diplomatic pleasantries designed to placate the opposition. More likely they did not want to give up a tactical advantage by keeping the Federation personnel at bay within their confines. The Breen could effectively cut off negotiations whenever they opted to from their vantage point. Born made the first strategic move in gaining the upper hand.

Curran also gave thought the Breen did not want to remain in their refrigeration suits for long. It would be an Intelligence coup if their life system viability limits were obtained.

"Of course, Governor."

[Let us get to the point, then, Legate. We have invited you into our boundaries to ask for your assistance. Our borders are currently undergoing hostilities we can no longer stave off due to our depleted forces you have taken from us due to the Dominion War treaty. Our needs are either to obtain your assistance in defending our borders, or allow us more flexibility by amending the treaty to essentially remove that article.]

"I see." Elaithin replied, surprised at the Breen for tipping their hand so early. Practicality indeed. "Who are you being assaulted by?"

[We do not know their identities.] Born replied. ["Recording of their attacks will be made available to your personnel, and you may attempt to ascertain that if you like."

"Thank you, Governor."

Several communications devices began going off then, and not just amongst the Breen. As the Breen hastily began answering their own comms, Elaithin's and Dallas' own commbadges went off. As Jii answered his, he could slightly hear Karyn talking to Captain M'Kantu.

"Elaithin here." he said hastily, tapping the badge.

["Captain, this is Brex. We have a situation here in orbit..."] came the voice of his Bolian second-in-command.

[Backpost]

"Life Support"

(Takes place two days before the arrival on Breen)

Principal Characters

Lt. Ella Grey
Lt. (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

She was waiting outside his quarters when he arrived.

~~Hi.~~ Ella signed with false cheer. Truthfully, her stomach had been doing its best impression of a pretzel since she had learned that Victor was going down on the planet. Of course, she *knew* that he was a security officer and it was his job but this was the first mission she could remember that he was going to away on some dangerous mission where she *knew* that she loved him.

"Hello, Grey," Victor replied in his normal neutral tone. "Aren't you supposed to be on shift right now?"

~~Day off. The Breen can demand impossible things just as easily without my presence. Wanted me to take apart the damned warp core... what a bunch of idiots. And can't a girl just randomly drop by her friend's house for no apparent reason without interrogation?~~ Ella signed with some irritation, backpedaling into the room so that he could read.

"This isn't a house, Grey," he observed as he followed her inside and checked his tell-tales to make certain that the Romulan agent - or Flight Officer Angelienia - hadn't been in his quarters since he'd left. "It's a cabin. It isn't a random visit either, because you don't do anything randomly, you're too self-controlled for that."

Ella stuck her tongue out at him.

Satisfied that no one had been in the room since his departure, he turned and looked at Grey. "I'm going to have some coffee. Do you want something?"

~~Coffee would be fine.~~

Victor nodded and replicated a second cup of coffee, altering the recipe to reflect Grey's preferences for the beverage. He handed it to her, and then waved her to a chair. "Why are you really here, Grey?"

~~I guess I wanted to see what you thought about the mission.~~

"It will be cold. If it's a trap, then people will die. If not, people will live." He shrugged. "Either way, my job is to make sure that our people aren't the ones that do the dying."

~~You will at least *try* to be careful, won't you?~~

"I'm always careful, Grey." He took a sip of his coffee. "I just have to do things that sometimes don't look that way."

~~Well, try not to provoke anyone then.~~

"I can't promise that, Grey. If I have to do that to get the job done, then I will." He shrugged. "It's part of what I do."

~~Damn it, Tiger, could you at least *try* and comfort me a little!~~ Ella snapped.

He looked at her and frowned. "Why are you so worried about this, Grey? It's an assignment, just like any other. I go where they send me, if I have to I kill people, and then I come home. Nothing unusual about it except the fact that it's very cold there."

~~The Breen make me nervous, I guess.~~ She replied and then sunk back into the chair in silence. She drank her coffee and kicked her feet. She needed to distract herself. ~~I had an interesting experience a few days ago.~~

Victor leaned back against his desk. "Interesting good or interesting bad?"

~~Interesting good, I think. I let this boy read my mind. I didn't want to at first but, well, you know telepaths.~~

"Actually I don't, not really. They don't like what's inside my head. It's why Betazoids run from me faster than anyone else. The only ones that managed it for any length of time were a Vulcan at the academy and the Defiant-entity. One of them took the Kholinar as soon as he was done and I killed the other." He sipped his coffee. "But I believe I know what you mean. What happened?"

~~He somehow made it hurt less, Victor.~~ She said with a smile. ~~He saw something in my head, touched me, and everything hurt less than normal. ~~I think he's the first person, well after you, to do that. And not freak out at the other stuff. If he saw it that is.~~

"Good." He regarded her for a moment. "But I don't think I know how to make anything stop hurting without making everything stop. I just make something else hurt to take your mind off the other."

~~So that's what the late nights of holding me so I didn't get nightmares was about.~~ Ella signed with false astonishment and just a touch of acid. And the times we've eaten dinner or just hung out. What an amazing thing. And here I was supposed to be in pain?~~

"I said I wasn't good at being a friend, Grey."

It was an old argument. ~~Just promise me, Mister Martyr, that you will *try* to come back in one piece.~~

"You know I can't do that, Grey. I'll do what I have to do in order to get the sheep home."

~~Lie then.~~ Ella signed, her jaw set.

"No." His pale blue eyes met hers over the rim of his coffee cup and held them. "Not to you."

~~Not even if it would make me feel better?~~

"Not even then, Grey. A lie is a lie, no matter why you tell it."

~~Stubborn mule.~~

"Perhaps, but I prefer 'realist' over 'mule.'" He shrugged. "It does make a less effective epithet though."

~~You're just lucky I censored what I was really thinking.~~ Ella replied. ~Besides, not all lies are bad.~~

"But they are all designed to deceive," he pointed out. "Even if that deception is for supposedly beneficial purposes, it's still deception. I don't try and deceive anyone but the enemy, Grey, it isn't worth the time for anyone else." He took a drink and set his coffee down. "You're not my enemy."

~~Good thing too!~~ Ella exclaimed to cover the fact that she lied to him every day now. ~~We haven't trained for weeks and I'd get my behind kicked to Mars and back.~~

"Months," he corrected, "not weeks. We haven't sparred in months."

~~Well, I don't have to show you where the holodeck is.~~

"I can't, Grey. Not now. Not until my assignment as escort to Sub-Commander tr'Khellian is resolved. We can spar once that's done."

Ella quirked an eyebrow. ~~That will be a long while then, I imagine. Well, I'll just run some of the old programs until you can join me.~~

Victor eyed her for a moment. "Not a good idea, Grey."

~~Tiger, you have such a low opinion of me.~~ Ella said in a flirty "tone."

~~I would never touch the settings without your supervision.~~

"Yes you would," he returned. "Because you thought you could handle the increased setting, or because you wanted to test yourself - or because I told you not to."

~~I would so not!~~

"Grey, please," he replied. "Your need for control *is* that strong, and we both know it."

She sat back in her chair grumpily. ~~YOU get to take risks all the time. I'm just hypothetically talking about setting a lousy computer program to level 2.~~

"I'm paid to take risks, Grey. You aren't. They pay you to use your brain and hands to make the magic that drives this ship work. If you weren't good at it, you'd be paid to take risks. Or clean the waste bays."

~~Technically, you aren't paid to do anything.~~ Ella pointed out, scoffing at the notion of herself cleaning out a waste bay. ~~And if I hurt myself, so what? It's on my head for doing something I wasn't ready for.~~

"It's stupid, Grey. You're not stupid - you're one of the smartest people I've ever known. The only human smart one that hasn't run screaming when I walked up. Why do you want to hurt yourself?"

Ella rolled her eyes. ~~Its only level 2. What the hell do you got in there? Hannibal Lector with a machine gun?~~

He frowned. "No, whoever that is, he's not in any program I have - and the machine guns aren't in any program I've let you try. You're just not ready.

~~I haven't been totally sitting on my ass when we weren't talking you know. And I know which way the end of the knife goes. Why do you think I couldn't do it?~~

"Because there is no 'level 2,' Grey; there's the level you've practiced on and the full-bore version. If you try them on full without me there you'll be hurt. I don't want you to get hurt."

~~Why?~~ Ella asked, hating herself for having to fish for compliments.

"Because I don't want you to be hurt. Friends are like that, even ones that aren't good at it."

~~Then you can partially understand why I worry about you when you're on your missions.~~

"I never said I didn't understand it, Grey, just that I couldn't promise something we both know I may not be able to deliver on. Besides, it isn't the same as you trying a program you're not ready for."

~~I bet I could take on your program if I had a machine gun.~~ Ella said.

"It depends on which one. Some yes, some no. Some only if you're good with it." He picked up his coffee again. "Can you do something for me?"

She blinked and then nodded.

"I need something replicated, and then disguised as something else. Something old, not in the current inventory."

Ella tilted her head.

"A Life Support Force-Field Unit. They used them briefly back when Kirk was still a Captain - the first time."

~~Why do you need that?~~

"Because it's very cold on Breen - and it will be colder if they turn the life support to the diplomatic quarters off."

~~I'll have it for you soon.~~ Ella said, grateful that she could help at least. It still didn't take away all the worry though. ~~Look, you just do the best you can and come back to m...to the Galaxy. All right?~~

"I always do the best I can, Grey - and I always try to come home." He set his coffee down. "I just won't someday."

~~See you later, Tiger,~~ Ella signed as she set the coffee down and started for the door. If he needed that life support unit, she wanted him to have it in plenty of time for the mission.

"Hazard Team Tryouts #2"

By
Lt. Cmdr James Corgan
Lt. JG Claire Barnes
Ensign Zeke Wikkens
Ensign Paulo DiMillo
Ensign Tarin Iniara
Attaché Nyssa Alvarez
Pilot Voss 'Prophet' Ferris
Lt. JG Chase Remur

NPC's:

Ensign Chet Caldwell (Engineering)
Lt. JG T'lan (Security)
Lt. JG Shelly O'Rourke (Security)
Ensign Jeremy Showers (Ops)
Lt. JG Walter Marsh (Security)

"Computer, end program." James Corgan ordered.

The dilapidated urban setting shimmered away like a mirage. Gone were the brick buildings, the drive in theatre, the roads and the vehicles. In the holodeck, everything existed while still being nothing, so it was easy to make everything disappear.

Scattered about the holodeck were the participants of the Hazard Team exercise. Those at the theatre were on the right.

The T-Rex, as it was sent to cyber oblivion, left behind a jumbled pile of 'eaten' officers, all indignantly dumped on the floor, brushing off holobile that dissipated as the program ended.

"Ehhhgggg..." Ensign Chet Caldwell groaned, picking himself out of the pile, "Spending five minutes in a dinosaur's stomach is not my idea of a good time."

"You think it was our idea of a good time, smartass?" Ensign Jeremy Showers, one of Ops' representatives, glumly snapped back.

Chase watched the unfortunates brush themselves off but tried not to direct her attention too pointedly in their direction. Judging from the expressions and sharp remarks coming from them, the experience had been far worse for those who had failed.

So far, she was proud of herself, considering that she'd made it through the first scenario without more than a holographic scratch or too. Though smearing garbage over herself to muffle the stench hadn't been the most enjoyable thing she'd ever done, but it had to be better than being eaten alive.

Paulo admitted that it was fun, for being something SO stupid. He though was disappointed at his performance in a few ways, but he never seemed to be happy with his performance, so it didn't matter.

Ensign Tarin stood up from her seated position on the floor, brushing imaginary dust from her backside as she rejoined the group. The sudden dematerialization of the half-destroyed van had caused her and many of its passengers to fall the short distance to the floor. Certainly not the most elegant way to end up, but it was definitely better than the pile of people the T. rex had left behind.

The arch appeared, and out of it walked in James Corgan, his PADD in hand, looking upon the volunteers again. He held a smile, amusement was more apt to describe how he felt.

"Congratulations." James Corgan announced, "To those who made it. You people showed resourcefulness and survivability. For that, I am impressed. O'Rourke! T'lan!"

T'lan and O'Rourke saluted, "Sir!"

"O'Rourke... you're a survivor, that is apparent. But pray tell... why did you abandon your mates at the first sight of the T-Rex?"

O'Rourke blushed, gulping back a nervous peep, "Sir..." She flustered, "We were supposed to reach our objective, sir!"

James wandered, pacing in front of O'Rourke while his eyes locked onto hers. "Yes, but on a Hazard Team you can't just think about yourself. You were lucky T'lan was with you. Without her, you may have been eaten."

"Sir..."

"Enough from you. T'lan, congrats. You showed some loyalty to your crewmates. Despite O'Rourke's initial mistake, you stuck by her, and you both worked well together. Good work."

T'lan replied, "Thank you, sir."

"Alright then!" James moved on, "About the team on the van... congratulations! You all worked well together. Despite the fact that it was a slower vehicle, your operating knowledge of the vehicle was rudimentary at best, and that Ensign Caldwell decided to BRAVELY run out of the vehicle and sacrifice himself for the rest of the team..." James added the last part with a sarcastic tone that made Caldwell look down in shame, "...you all did very well. But may I stress this... you guys were lucky. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Ensign Tarin replied, snapping once more to attention. In the back of her mind she wondered how, out of all the Terrans, a Bajoran had been the one piloting the ancient Terran vehicle. Maybe in the future she would have to do a little more research into this sort of vehicle.

"Yes sir," Paulo replied. He knew they were lucky. If it hadn't been for Caldwell, they would have all been eaten, and been on top of the pile of people who didn't make it past breakfast.

"Attaché Alvarez!" James pointed to the diplomat, "I was surprised by your performance. I didn't expect a diplomat to survive the first part of this exercise. For this, you have my respect. However, I do warn you that this is special forces grade tryouts. Pray to god that you are well versed enough to do the next exercise."

"Thank You Sir" she relied proudly smiling with the compliment, she knew what she could do and how far she was able to push herself to get the job done.

"Ensign Wikkens!" James boomed towards the Ensign whom was twice as large as he, making his displeasing speech almost comical, "Where the hell were you? I didn't see much from you. What happened?"

The mountain of a man bowed his head. A deep crimson began to flush up the back of his neck and through his cheeks.

"I was...otherwise occupied." the Amish officer replied.

"You were otherwise occupied? Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Wikkens here was otherwise occupied. Let?s have a look at just what exactly Mr. Wikkens was doing while you all were running for your lives. Computer, replay the training exercise. Isolating Ensign Wikkens." Corgan barked.

The computer chirped an acknowledgement and the room shimmered to life once again with giant carnivores stomping about. Wikkens could be seen running with another officer over his shoulder while being chased by a Tyrannosaurus Rex who was stomping through the steel and concrete as if it were not even there.

Just as the man moved into an intersection, a van came screaming past and crashed into the creature's ankle.

With a loud shriek, the lizard began to fall as if it were going to sit. Wikkens seeing the shadow growing large around him tossed the officer he was carrying to freedom just a fraction of a second before the Rex sat upon him.

An odd look crossed the monster's face and he promptly got back on his feet and marched away. As he turned the corner, two Starfleet issued boots could be seen protruding from between the creature's scaly bottom.

"Ah..Computer..end program. Please." James said looking as though he were trying to hide a hearty laugh.

Wikkens had his arms crossed over his chest with one hand on his temple, shielding his eyes.

"If any of thee even so much as breathes of this unfortunate incident to anyone, I shall smite thee down with the fury that would make even the most high cover his orbs." he said through teeth clenched tightly together.

"Marsh! Remur!" James then called out the next two officers, "Good work out there. You kept your asses out of trouble and still made it on time. You all cut it close though... can't blame you."

Remur nodded, but chose to say nothing. She appreciated the security chief's praise, but in truth she had only been doing her job. Besides, Marsh had been the one who knew what he was doing. But then, fighting big game was never her strong suit.

"As for Lieutenant Barnes..." Corgan then turned to Claire, "Good work, a bit risky getting the dino's attention by destroying that car, but it worked. Gave the other team time to procure transportation. Your actions were self sacrificing, but you made it. Congratulations to you."

Claire grinned and nodded.

Corgan didn't want to waste any more time. He continued on with the tryouts. "Ladies and gentlemen, now for the second phase of the exercise."

Corgan recalled a screen in the middle of the holodeck. It showed terrain, a savanna with yellowed, dry grass, and brown, suntanned trees with emerald green canopies. It was midday in the scene, with the sun glaring high in the sky in a blue field without clouds. To the side of the screen was a three dimensional picture of a small device, a subspace transceiver of Federation design. Back to the savanna scene, Breen troopers patrolled the countryside, armed with rifles, their alien faces unseen though their stride was purposeful.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the next exercise will be to search for this subspace transceiver, hidden somewhere in this orchard. There will be plenty of cover, provided by the trees, with a few open areas designed to be kill zones. Breen troops are patrolling the area, and are meant to stop you from recovering the device. Unfortunately, you will all be scattered, and sent out alone at first. Whether or not you will run into your teammates is up to you. Good luck, and be sure not to harm each other." Corgan finished, "Computer, start program!"

Ensign Tarin crouched down as the simulation began. Finding herself in moderate cover, she quickly slid sideways into some thick bushes which would give her enough protection for the moment. Then, she deactivated the commbadge and stowed it--it wouldn't be much use, but she might need it later. She turned her attention to the tricorder, setting it to silent mode, then set it to emit a short subspace 'ping' every few seconds and to accept incoming data from the transceiver or from other tricorders.

Satisfied, she stowed the tricorder and picked up the phaser rifle, slinging it across her back. Then with the grace and efficiency of someone who had done this many times, Iniara flattened herself against the ground, becoming one with the underbrush, and silently wormed her way through the orchard. All her senses were on edge and furiously scanning for the presence of anyone, holobreen or otherwise. Maybe the ping would locate the transceiver or maybe it wouldn't, she thought to herself as she quickly scaled a strategically positioned tree, all the while checking to make sure she was still unseen. But, from 50 feet up and hidden by fully covered branches, she could at least take out a few Breen while her teammates searched for the device. She removed the rifle from her back, did a quick check of the weapon before pushing it up to its maximum setting, then became one with the tree as she scanned the landscape.

'This is a test,' Paulo thought. It would be like on D-Day back in WWII where everyone landed where they did, and they had to meet up. Here though you were not fighting your fellow man, you were fighting Breen, who were a cross between Cardies and Jem'Hadar. Not a great combination for people trying to get in.

As the grid disappeared for the orchard. He would first need to find a few other people from the team so that they could get in. A small team of about 3 or 4, just small enough to get in, but with enough people to watch each other's backs and to run distractions if needed. Paulo turned his badge's range down to only a few meters using his tricorder. He would want others to be able to find him, and if the Breen picked up on it, he would hear them come in.

Nyssa found herself in an open space between Orchards, and instantly realised that perhaps this wasn't the best place for her to be standing. She moved quickly but casually into the cover of the trees and stopped looking at the items she had.

Nyssa turned off the combadge and looked at the federation phaser rifle, her eyes checking the level of power on the weapon. If I'm going to survive this I am going to need to get rid of anything visibly not Breen she thought to herself placing the weapon deep into the underbrush covering it with dirt and some fallen branches. She then looked around and conducted a quick scan of the area, mentally noting the differing echo location spots that were being read by the tricorder.

Within moments the tricorder was once again hidden amongst her clothing and she was on her way to the location which was marked on top of a small rise above the rest of the orchard.

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

Another miserable landmark.

In the perspective of Shelly O'Rourke, she was seeing yet another tree, looking quite the same as it gently flapped its leaves in the breeze.

Nothing was helping her, not even her tricorder. O'Rourke impatiently tapped the display on her scanning device. The image flickered and wobbled, and the LCD readout scrunched and distorted for a brief second when her finger pressed against it, but the screen showed nothing new. There were multiple signatures, and they were everywhere. She decided to seek out the strongest signature, which was in an orchard approximately two hundred feet nearly, and blocked off by dense forest growth.

Chasing phantom signals wasn't her idea of fun, but then again, neither was training for a Hazard Team under the dominion of a person known throughout the Federation as 'Crazy Corgan'.

She could always blame the Vulcan. That gave her comfort. When she eventually failed the qualifiers, she would confront T'lan, and tell the Vulcan eccentric not to ever sign her up for anything against her will again.

Grumbling, O'Rourke set foot for the signature.

Unbeknownst to her, T'lan was thirty feet away, taking cover in the bushes. She was observing the movements of a Breen soldier, stalking around the forest, looking for unsuspecting Starfleet officers. It held a scanning device, waving the scanner like a wizard's faulty wand.

"O'Rourke..." T'lan worried for her friend. She was nearby, and it didn't take long for the Vulcan to know who the Breen was. Breen didn't move like a human, tended to show more patience and professionalism in their work, and didn't use many hand gestures when frustrated. To a human, these observations were minute and impossible to read. A Vulcan, however, could easily ascertain.

T'lan admired Commander Corgan's test and its inherent difficulties. Most people would be tripped up indeed, but not the superior mind of a Vulcan.

And the superior Vulcan had an idea on how to talk to the Breen.

T'lan concluded that she herself must be Breen, in order to cause confusion in the recruits. Therefore, she tried to remove her 'helmet'.

Alas, the Vulcan female couldn't. She felt no Breen costume. No Breen helmet. To her perspective, she was a Starfleet officer. There had to be, therefore another way to talk to the Breen to truly know if she was a friendly.

At a big risk to her life, T'lan rose out of the bushes. Her tricorder holstered to her side and her rifle slung to her shoulders, T'lan then raised her right arm, faced the palm outwards toward the suspected friendly Breen, and gave the Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper." T'lan screamed.

What O'Rourke heard was garbled digital trash from a Breen voice synthesizer. Naturally, the fidgety blonde lawyer did what came as a gut reaction when faced with hostiles.

She opened fire, screaming "BREEN!" while T'lan heard more scrambled Breen voice synths.

And T'lan hit the dirt, narrowly avoiding being vaporized.

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

The still flustered Wikkins found himself inside of what appeared to be a command quarters of some sort. The first thing he noted was that the complex was quite small. Perhaps half the size of the Galaxy's own Ten Forward Lounge. He looked around at the various compartments that lined the walls. They were large enough for someone to walk into and hide.

Looking to redeem himself from the embarrassment of the previous scenario, Wikkins rolled his head on his thick shoulders. He balled his meaty hands into fists and using the tip of his boot, he pushed open the first compartment.

It was empty.

He moved inside and examined the strange command interface inside. From a seated position, whomever was inside had access to some sort of computer module that hung from the wall next to an odd hole that was drilled about head level. It went through the wall of this stall and into another.

Zeke stuck his thick finger through the hole, probing it a bit to assure himself that it indeed went through into the next office.

Growing more curious, Zeke steeled himself and sat in the command chair.

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

Remur watched Corgan fade and the encounter appear. Gathering her equipment, she slipped into the deepest thicket she could find and crouched down to check her equipment. Looking around, she noticed a few Breen moving around, some with rifles and others with scanners. Deciding that she should be a little more careful about hiding, she took a moment to find a place to lie down behind and assess the situation.

After closely scanning the area visually, Chase flattened her body behind a fallen tree. Nothing. Not a single Hazard Team member in sight. Either they were all good at hiding or she'd drawn the short straw and been placed far out of reach.

Well, if that's how he wants to play it, then we'll play.

Carefully prying the back off the tricorder, she quickly made a few wiring changes that her instructors at Advanced Intel had taught her, using them to extend the range. It was tricks like those that were her trade. Now where were her allies?

Keeping a hand on her rifle grip, she poked her head up and began scanning again.

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

Claire dropped to the ground quickly, drawing her weapon as she did. A quick examination of the weapon found that it was fully charged.

Examining the ground next, she found that it was darkish brown and moist. Smiling, she scooped some up and quickly applied it to her face and arms for some camouflage. The combadge was deactivated and then she examined the tricorder. Something about the area was causing the most annoying echoing effect, but she would be able to hopefully use it.

Looking more around the orchard, she noted that the trees were placed close together to minimise the wasted amount of ground. Smiling, she quickly scaled up one, thinking that she might be able to get a vantage point of the lot. However, she found that the upper canopy would not support her weight. Once that wasn't an option, she locked down her tricorder to ignore external communications.

Moving forwards by jumping from tree to tree, Claire started doing a sort of triangulation to see if she could figure out what was an echo and what wasn't. Turning the tricorder over, she opened it up and did a quick check of the internals. Nothing looked to be altered, so she expected that the holodeck program was using a sensor distortion field. So, there wasn't anything she could really do to fix it.

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

The jungle was comforting.

Marsh loved the jungle more than anything. Soothing noises of the wildlife celebrating life in the lush canopy, the emerald green spanning out for miles, the humid heat, the springtime fogs, the dangers and the thrills of a hostile alien environment.

Marsh loved the jungle.

It seemed distasteful to spoil the previously unspoilt nature of the jungle with violence.

But such was his job, therefore what choice did he have?

So, like the jungle stalkers of countless alien worlds, Marsh waited in the canopy, waiting for unsuspecting Breen troopers to kill. The subspace communicator was somewhere Marsh couldn't identify. A trick, it looked, to distract from the real task of avoiding the hunters.

*crik* A branch snapped under a Breen's heavy boot. Marsh enveloped himself in the canopy, and waited for the footfalls to pass.

Under him was what he expected. A Breen trooper, his head down on a tricorder, scanning for life forms! How juicy a target! An unsuspecting soldier, not aware of his surroundings. Then, there was no choice.

Marsh had to take him out. With a loosened vine, Marsh roped a loop around the Breen's neck, and without warning, yanked the soldier upwards.

All that was left of him on the ground was a phaser rifle and a tricorder, flung hidden into the under growth. Now that it was not in contact with the Breen's body, the items reset themselves back to their original parameters.

Standard Federation issue.

Without knowing it, Marsh made a mistake.

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

~Just like old times,~ Iniara thought to herself as she took aim on a Breen soldier below. The rifle had become an extension of her own body and mind, and she now seemed interested in nothing other than sniping some Breen scum. Her hands gripped the rifle firmly and one grey eye used the built-in sight to select an appropriate spot on her opponent's form. She thumbed the safety off, slowly following the Breen's movements, waiting for the perfect shot.

Then, without warning, her hip vibrated.

Startled, Iniara couldn't help but flinch. She lowered the rifle, her concentration now broken. Her hip vibrated again.

With one hand, she reached down and retrieved the insistent tricorder, flipping it open to stop the vibrating. Apparently the ping had worked. A little too well.

Iniara looked in dismay at the multiple shifting sensor readings. At least six spots were shown on the map, and they kept moving around erratically. It took her only a few seconds to realize that something was either scattering the signal or interfering with her tricorder, and only a split second more to realize she didn't have the technical knowledge to compensate for the problem.

Annoyed, the Bajoran switched the tricorder off, stowing it once more. She quickly recalled all the personnel involved in this simulation. There had been a lot of yellow shirts present earlier; Iniara hoped the ones she didn't recognize from Ops were from Engineering and not Security. Maybe one of them would be able to find the transceiver.

Until then, all she could do was snipe. She resumed her previous posture, weapon at the ready, sharp eyes once more scanning for targets below.

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

Chase Remur threw herself sharply to the side at the sound of weapons fire, dropping her rifle in the process. Continuing to move, she looked around and spotted the sniper. Unfortunately, she was now unarmed, but was able to roll out of the path of the unsuspecting Iniara's next shot.

Locating her rifle, Remur rolled back toward it, but was quickly discouraged by the fire from above. Unwilling to surrender, she scrambled behind a tree, leaving the rifle, possibly her only salvation, lying abandoned on the ground.

Careful to keep the tree between her and the 'Breen' sniper, she lay there for a moment, breathing hard, then checked her tricorder. She had two possibles, and one was close-by, but the other would take longer to reach, and it would be through Breen infested territory, with no rifle.

She was stuck.

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

Paulo scanned around and found a human life sign. He walked up slowly, taking his time. As he saw it was someone from his team Paulo tossed a small stone in her direction, just enough to get her attention. "Hold fire," Paulo said. "It's DiMillo," Paulo said to, who he believed was Alverez.

Alverez nodded, her Breen helmet clumsily bobbing up and down.

The two moved along heading for their destination. Paulo wanted to be there like yesterday, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He had been trained in this kind of covert tactics, but never put them into use beyond the Academy as SFI had kept him pretty much locked up in an office. Right now it?s better to be cautious then stupid. They would take their time, and hopefully get to the target in the allocated time.

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

Iniara cursed softly under her breath as her target evaded. These Breen were unexpectedly quick. Taking a deep breath, she searched the underbrush for her target. She had to take care of him before he gave her position away. ~Ah, there he is.~ From behind a nearby tree she could just see a pair of unmistakably Breen feet poking out. Strange how a Breen soldier would be hiding behind a tree instead of trying to take her out, but...

Was that a Starfleet rifle lying near the Breen's hiding place? From Iniara's vantage point, it looked a lot like the weapon she herself was carrying, not a Breen weapon. Maybe the simulation was set to disguise the participants as Breen, including whoever was behind that tree. That would certainly explain why she hadn't seen any Starfleet uniforms stalking around: her companions were good, but probably not that good.

"Test, test," she muttered softly to herself. She wasn't very surprised to hear distinctive Breen vocal garbage layered over her own voice. So that meant everyone probably looked and sounded like Breen, making it very hard to tell who was who. At least she had one way around that.

Dropping her shields slightly, Iniara sent out a brief mental probe. It wasn't much more than a mental tickle, but it was all she needed. Either the Breen behind the tree was a real person, or the holodeck now had the ability to mimic humanoid thought patterns. Feeling hopeful, she pulled out her tricorder once more and set it to broadcast on a very narrow band, then typed out a quick message and sent it: [Tarin overhead. Any luck finding target?] She sat back and waited, hoping the tactic would work and that she wouldn't have to resort to telepathy.

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

"MRRRrrrrrhhhhfffppp&*@#Gurglepurp*!!!" Loudly did the Breen soldier object to his incarceration, so much that without the precaution of muffling the Breen's voice synthesizer, it would have made quite an unholy noise.

In the trees, trussed up by sturdy green vines, two Breen soldiers swore in their alien tongue, shifting back and forth to swing their bodies out of their bindings.

It was no use. Lieutenant Marsh was an expert survivalist, and it would take more than foul language and thrashing to free the soldiers from their bonds. As Marsh was looking down on the field, giving his tricorder another tap with his finger, the Breen kept swinging and swearing.

Marsh turned to the Breen, motioning a slit throat action, and said, "Shut up, or I'll grease you both."

This prompted more synthesized protests from the strung up enemies.

"Fine... have it your way." Marsh grumbled, swinging off his branch and landing on all four limbs, "I'll leave you all to rot. Have a nice day, gents." He added, with a mock salute and a howl of laughter fitting for a bush crazy hunter. His noisy, leaf strewing steps went farther and farther away, until the Breen couldn't hear him anymore.

But if Marsh could hear the Breen talk, his relaxed, confident attitude would have changed.

Caldwell and Showers were both aware of the ruse, but were powerless to tell Marsh about it.

"MARSH!!!!! YOU STUPID BUSH BABY!!!!!!" Ensign Caldwell cursed from the treetops, the blood rushing to his head due to being upside down for so long, "Only you would rig a trap like this you stupid..."

"MAAAARRRRSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!" Ensign Showers joined Ensign Caldwell in the cacophony of anger, but with their synth units tampered, nobody was going to hear them scream in the jungle for a long time...

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

*MRRRGGGLLLEEE... ERRRGGGLLLEEE.... BLURP!*

Shelly O'Rourke, inadvertent Breen foot soldier, fired her rifle wildly into the bushes, whilst diving headlong into the ferny bush of Lesephi Stingweed. She was wild eyed, and without a clue as to where the odd Breen with the split hand salute went off too.

~"Split hand... like the Vulcans?"~ O'Rourke hazily thought, as she rolled deeper into the stingweeds, moving to keep herself from being shot. The exchange of fire between O'Rourke and what she thought was a Breen soldier was brief and furious. She was lucky to avoid the incoming fire, taking refuge behind the trees and bushes to keep alive.

But now that the firefight lulled to a stop, she had time to take stock in what really happened. The Breen popping out of the bushes with the salute, the fight...

How oddly Vulcan. The incident brought out a chuckle.

Then it made her very, very sad.

"Dear god... it was T'lan." O'Rourke sighed as the lightbulb came on. In her rush to frag anything that moved and retrieve the beacon, she nearly waxed her friend, whom was disguised as Breen.

Didn't stop T'lan from firing back, so it was to O'Rourke's conclusion that T'lan wasn't so sure herself, and that her salute was for identification purposes. Therefore, O'Rourke's knee jerk reaction served to alienate the only person whom seemed to know what the hell she was doing.

"Dammit." O'Rourke cursed, her Breen suit translating to more gibberish. She contemplated what to do next, until she felt an unbelievable pressure crash down upon her.

Next she saw darkness as a hand clamped on her shoulder.

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

Claire stopped moving in the tree. Standing below her was a Breen soldier. The soldier stopped, checking some sort of device, before moving on. While she could have taken him out, she had a nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

When it moved on, she flipped open her tricorder and did another check. From what she could tell, some of the echoes had moved and others had not. By now, she was pretty sure that the holodeck was creating an environment that bounced signals around off what could be mountains. Or really freaky trees.

Looking around, she found that some of the branches were quite dry, and it gave her an idea. There was a distinct possibility that the Breen might investigate something remarkably unusual. Snapping off branches, she dropped down to the ground and piled them up against the tree. Grabbing some dry grass, she put it around before standing back, cleaning out the ground around it so that it wouldn't spread to her.

Setting her rifle to thermal effects only, she gave a short burst across them, causing them to burst into flame. The flames rose and the tree caught on fire.

Grinning, she climbed up another tree quick and headed away fast.

After she had moved about 30 metres from the flaming tree, she did another triangulation check for the beacons, but they were still giving echoes that she wasn't sure of. Adjusting the sensor scan, she had a thought that maybe, she could adjust it to pinpoint the subspace emitters in other tricorders.

A few extra blips came up, but she wasn't sure if they were friend or foes.

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

A full minute had passed and Iniara was beginning to think her message hadn?t reached its intended recipient. She swung her rifle back over her shoulder and began to descend from the tree. If she could make contact with the person on the ground, maybe they could figure a way to find the transceiver.

As she descended, a lone Breen soldier approached, investigating the noise from before. Iniara froze less than twenty feet from the ground, luckily still unnoticed. Silently she watched as the soldier-- his unreadable mind marking him as holographic and therefore hostile-- approached the tree behind which the ?friendly? Breen was hiding. Seeing no other choice, Iniara quickly brought her rifle around, flipped the safety off, and dropped towards the ground.

The Breen barely had time to react as Iniara appeared from above. Once she was clear of the bottom branches she quickly fired, one shot to the chest and a second to the neck. Iniara?s feet hit the ground hard and she executed a forward roll toward the friendly Breen, landing in a crouched position with her weapon pointed straight at her target. In her peripheral vision she noticed the hostile Breen slump unceremoniously to the soft ground, the impact registering with a dull thud.

Before the other ?Breen? could have time to react, Iniara pulled out her tricorder with her left hand, tapping out another message. [This is Tarin. Not hostile. Can you locate target?] She then flipped the tricorder around in her hand, placed it on the ground, and slid it towards the ?Breen? so he could read its screen. She pulled her hand away and placed it back on her rifle, relaxing her posture but at the same time keeping alert. She didn?t want to shoot whoever this was, but it was a better alternative than having him give away her position with possible running and screaming.

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

Paulo crept up behind a Breen. Paulo had hid his rifle, not wanting something that big with him while he took out the Breen officer. He wanted to do it quietly so no one could hear him. He got up, wrapped his hands around the Breen's neck and snapped it quickly, and lowered the body to the ground, and hiding the body. He had done this a few times, and he and Alvarez had gotten in a firefight only once, but other then that they had gotten in quite.

Paulo took out his tricorder and scanned. He had figured out which dots were the team, and which wasn't. He figured by which moved in patterns and which didn't, and which disappeared. There were a couple team members about 20 meters to his right, but he had no idea which ones. At this time they were close to their target, and they were running out of time.

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

After some initial doubt and apprehension Iniara and her new partner, who turned out to be Lt. Remur, had been making decent time in their hunt. Iniara had been scanning for any holobreen or nervous fellow officers, leaving Remur free to scan for the transceiver. So far Iniara had taken down three adversaries, each annoyingly more skilled than the last.

The first one?definitely a holobreen?had stumbled on their position almost accidentally and his momentary surprise had given Iniara the advantage. The second?also holographic?had tried to ambush them but a few blows with the bulk of the rifle and two swift kicks to the chest and head had subdued him. The third however had caught Iniara off guard and delivered a few good hits before she could even think about a mental probe. Instinct had taken over then, a feeling she both feared and relished, and the faceless Breen soldier soon tasted the wrath of one Bajoran who had a little too much fury built up for just such an occasion. Returning to her normal self, Iniara had restrained herself from probing the now prone soldier?s mind. She didn?t want to know if she had screwed up.

Iniara was beginning to wonder if they would ever find the target when Remur suddenly stopped in her tracks. She looked askance at the tree nearest them, a huge, gnarled old thing with a gaping hole in the side. Following her partner, Iniara peered into the tree and came face to face with the transceiver. A moment later their suits dissolved into nothingness.

?Excellent,? was all Iniara had time to say before the exercise ended for them.

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

The most peculiar sight came to Marsh, and at first he thought he was witnessing the Breen soldiers carrying their wounded. The sight came as he was stalking about the trees, after stringing up another struggling, swearing Breen soldier. He silenced the soldier's voice unit, then saw from the corner of his vision a Breen soldier, lifting another in a fireman's carry.

The Breen spotted him before he could spot the Breen which surprised Marsh the most. He prided himself in his alertness and his ability to survive harsh climes. What could possibly do such a thing?

Then, the oddest sight came to Marsh. The Breen, nonchalantly dumping her comrade (it was clearly a she from the hourglass figure, and for that matter so too was her unconscious comrade), then giving Marsh the Vulcan salute.

"Ahhhhh...." Marsh gave T'lan the thumbs up, and pointed to the prone body at her feet.

T'lan pointed an index finger to the side of her head, and spun it about, the universal sign of insanity.

Marsh nodded. He knew exactly who T'lan was carrying.

Then, T'lan thrust her slender finger at the tree, pointing downwards. Marsh could only guess at what she was trying to say, but innuendo told him that she wanted him to come down, so Marsh leapt out of the trees, landing on all fours like a panther.

T'lan shook her head, and pointed again at the same spot.

"What?" Marsh objected, spewing voice distortion instead, "What are you saying?" He then shrugged his shoulders and upraised his palms. "What?"

T'lan shoved Marsh aside, showing the Vulcan's eccentric habit of being impatient (happens to Vulcans whom, upon trying to explain logic to the illogical races, finally gave up and decided to show the illogical idiots by action instead). She disappeared into a hole in the large oaken tree, then came out with a suitcase size piece of electronics equipment.

T'lan, Marsh, and O'Rourke's Breen suits shimmered away.

And for those three, the exercise was over as they were allowed to leave the field.

"Best of Both Worlds"

By

Arel "Kill Boy Crazy" Smith,
USS Miranda

8-Ball "Naughty Girl" Hunter,
USS Galaxy

Kylar "Van Halen" Curran,
USS Galaxy

*backpost

*****

Arel watched the the platform as the two Galaxy officers materialized.

While it was true that she could have delegated this task to a junior officer, Arel prefered that they spend their time securing the ship from the Breen "delegates." She could handle the greeting of two already cleared Starfleet officers, gving them their clearence codes for the Miranda's computers.

Plus, she needed a break from her office work. Another minute of filing old reports, processing requests, scheduling vacations, etc. and she might have just forgotten her newly formed skin of steel and started destroying furniture.

"Legate Curran. Ensign Hunter." Arel greeted them. "I'm here to give you your access codes and escort you to your respective offices."

"I won't be here long, so don't waste any time." He loathed being in the same room as this bloated creature that showed no remorse for the situation she was putting her unborn child in. Savar's stating the obvious tactic of the Breen taking this woman prisoner, knowing the Federation's penchant for love, peace, and all beings survival was, in effect, hamstringing themselves. Did she not see that? Were they trying to fail? More likely to make his life more difficult.

8-ball gave him a disgusted glance and then looked away. Curran was something else, all right. He irritated the shit out of her in ways that no other man knew how. Even knowing that she had kicked his ass in that fighting tournament months ago didn't give her the gleaming satisfaction that it should have. Glancing at the security chief from Miranda who had broken up the ever so fun party on the starbase, 8-ball could tell Arel didn't like him anymore than she did. She wondered if Curran knew HOW to make friends.

8-ball would give not anything but really, really a lot not to be stuck with Curran right now aboard Miranda. For that matter, she wasn't even sure why she was here, exactly. She figured she was supposed to talk to the science officers over on the ship, compare notes about the Breen, some stupid thing or another, but it was never really made clear. Well, that was Starfleet for you. They said "jump" and you said "how high" when you really wanted to say fuck off.

He still didn't know why he was here in the first place. Had something occurred with Legate Pryce-Randall? And why was this half-wit Vulcan tagging along? Surrounded by dysfunctional beings. Dallas and Smith on the away team, Hunter on this redundant trip. Someone was bound and determined to send him over the edge. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Where is Legate Pryce-Randall? Should she not be present at this transfer of command codes?" Following the snarly-looking human out into the Miranda corridors, the big-headed Vulcan behind him that was more emotional than most humans he knew, he half-expected the Legate to arrive any moment as they passed through the throngs infesting the hallways. Yet she did not appear, unexpectedly. She is of a personality that is never late.

"Busy." Arel replied. She could have told him more but since he was practically sneering at her, she figured he could find out what was keeping Pryce-Randall on his own.

"That is an unsatisfactory answer, Commander." Why did these Terrans feel the need to convey the least information possible? "She is an integral part of this mission. A simply 'Busy' does not constitute a proper analogy of the situation for if her presence was required. One word replies other than yes or no - and even that must precede the standard 'Aye' - denote a lack of intelligence. Now, where is she?"

8-ball shook her head. God, Curran was such an annoying pain in the ass. Even the security chief who looked like she wouldn't know a good party if it hit her wasn't nearly as irritating as he was. Maybe what Curran needed was some decoration. 8-ball tried to picture him with a smile on his face, a cute little flower and ribbon in his hair. She surpressed the fit of giggles as best as she could.

"Legate Curran." Arel replied flatly. "We're on yellow alert. While I believe its highly unlikely that you are Breen spies, my orders are to escort you to your offices, not have you waltzing about this ship. I'm sure the Legate will be waiting for you there. And If you are uncapable of walking from point A to point B, then we can turn around right now and beam you back to the Galaxy."

"All up for that plan," 8-ball muttered. She turned to Curran, tried to appeal to his better nature before remembering he didn't have one. "You know you don't want to be here anyway."

"I don't want to be here? Are you a Starfleet Officer, or am I trapped in grade school? It is our *duty* to be here. So much for Galaxy being an isolated incident. As for waltzing about this ship, Commander... I don't believe dancing in the halls is for anyone other than Science Officers giddy over some male who they believe is interested in anything other having them arrested for stalking." He didn't have to catch Hunter's eye for the inferred insult.

8-ball closed her eyes. She would not kill him. She would not kill him.In fact, she wouldn't have to. Curran was too much of a tiresome pissant to not have annoyed anyone he had ever met. Someone soon would murder him for her and she wouldn't have to go to jail herself.

"Save your witless comments for those that are braindead. Take me where I need to be and be done with it. I'm as puzzled as anyone why Captain Elaithin would send a child-bearing woman into hostile territory as her own armed guard. I seriously hope you do not put us all at risk, for I'll kill you myself if the mission is put at stake."

"Oh, I sincerly hope you try, Legate." Arel said. "It's been awhile since I've gotten to kill someone official."

8-ball closed her eyes in silent prayer that this might actually come true.

Curran pinched his eyes at the infernal woman. His finger twitched towards to position on his waistline where a neutralizer would lay. It was a nervous habit whenever he was overly irritated.

"I sincerely doubt you would, 'Commander. Your kind lack the capability to do so."

Arel snorted. "You don't look like much, Squid. I bet this girl could take you." The security officer tilted her head to the side. "Or did she already?"

"Foolish child!" The comment has ruffled his feathers somewhat, but he still maintained the integrity of remaining true to himself.

"Betraying one's own self-values doesn't make one a winner. Never hide who and what you are, and take advantage of the strongest of resources. Running emotionally rampant, insulting oneself is only self-defeating. It's aweakness that can and will be exploited until the issues within are resolved and one voice coordinates the chaos." If Hunter had focused on her Vulcan half, accepting and embracing it, she would've finished the bout in half the time. The fact she was still in Starfleet was an embarrassment and affront to all that the Federation should stand for.

8-ball stopped walking and turned to Curran. "Look," 8-ball said, "first off, I never betrayed my self values. My self- values say there's nothing wrong with smashing a chair into an asshole's head. Doesn't upset me too much. Would do it again if I had the chance. What MY values say is that denying myself emotion, smothering it to the back of my mind and pretending to be some kind of drone, would be a betrayal to myself and to my character. To be honest, Curran, I don't give a good God fuck if you like me or not. I certainly don't like you. I'd be happier if I never had to see you, or, more importantly, hear you, ever, ever again. But I don't get that choice. I may not like Starfleet but I'm in it whether you like it or not. It's a JOB and I have no plans to leave. So unless you want to quit or just do us all a favor and die, why don't you back the fuck off and we can all get this over with, because I'm sure that we all. . .well, that Commander Smith and I. . .have better things to do. Okay?"

"If it involves derogatory, insultory, and wasteful remarks, by all means. Go away. This petty banter is beneath me." He waved a pale hand as if to ward away a servant who'd come to shine his shoes. "The stench in this room suddenly became unbearable." Sniffing, his nose curled. "Bovine excrement. Something must be done about the ventilation."

"Look, as fascinating as this conversation has become," Arel interrupted. "can we please start moving again?"

Curran had already moved to the exit ahead of the reproachful women. When Kelva had taken control of the Federation, the first change that would be made would be to remove women from any form of contact with the senior responsibilities and back to artisanship where they belonged. Such emotion was detrimental to the futures of all species, and these softhearted humanoid leaders never even opted to act.

"If the two of you can cease being insubordinate enough to perform your duties while in uniform, I'll be on my way." He depressed the keypad that would permit his access to the corridor beyond.

Arel shrugged. Let him walk about. The first security guard who saw him would pin his ass to the floor and detain him for questioning. The Miranda didn't have any Kelvans on board.

Her lips twitched slightly at thinking of how outraged his face would get.

"Follow me, Ensign." She told the other woman.

"Suspicions and Students"

by
Trevor as Cat, CMO
and
Koen as Brooke,
aCMO
and
Mark as Lorian, MO

Brooke was reading the results of the scan he managed to get from Mitchell. Standing up, he walked to the office next to him, where Cat was working on what seemed to be paperwork. "You have a moment, Cat," he asked.

Cat spun in her chair from her study of a secondary terminal she had installed in her office. She turn to look at Brooke who came through the door. "James, yes, come in. What is it?"

"I have here something I think you might be interested in," Brooke said, handing over the PADD.

Cat nodded as she took the padd from James' hand. Her right eyebrow rose in a most vulcanesque way as she noticed the patient of the notes. She thumbed a control on the padd and after a few pages looked back at James. "Very interesting."

"You said you wanted proof," Brooke said, "I know it's not fully conclusive, but it is enough to merit further investigation."

Putting the padd on the desk, she rested her chin on her hand as she continued to thumb through the data. Her eyes narrowed as her ears flicked forward, and James noticed that her tail had even stopped it's normal swaying.

Reading the padd upside down, James saw that Cat was looking at the 'shadowed' areas in James Mitchell's brain. Something in which the Medical Computer could not decipher. Even in the few minutes from the first scan to the last scan, one of the 'areas' had moved, it was only a few millimetres, but it had moved.

"James, two things, I want you to go over the sensor and the raw data. I want confirmation that this 'movement' was actual, not a glitch in processing. Second thing, you would have studied this till the cows had come home. I want your initial diagnosis, with Mitchell as a patient."

"I already did the raw data," Brooke said, "and I ran a level one diagnostic on the biobed scanners I used, as it was almost due for one anyway. It's no processing artefact. As for my diagnosis, I don't have any, except the parasite thing. But it does warrent a more thorough investigation."

Looking at James, Cat frowned, "Right now, it does. I am worried about the notes that had been collected from the Cardassian and those dangers. But I will be taking this to the xo."

"Good," Brooke said, "the sooner this is over, the better."

"But nothing is going to happen until we leave Breen space. But I will talk with Brex as soon as I can."

"I understand," Brooke said, "can you ask the XO to keep it silent. Mitchell treatened me during the exam, and I'd rather not watch my back constantly. I'd rather have he doesn't know anything untill we move."

Cat frown as her slitted pupils quickly narrowed and then opened again as she looked at James, "Threaten? How?" Any officer threatening another officer was not a good thing. But when someone threaten her officers, they were looking for trouble. "Explain, James!"

"He said that if I 'engineered' -that was his term- something that made his life unbearable, he would do the same to me. And he mentioned phasers in passing, if I recall correctly," Brooke said, "but don't worry, I'll set it up so that if something happens to me, some admirals I know will get a nice package of information. Shouldn't be too hard to do. I only have to let it be known to Mitchell that things are set up like that. He should be smart enough to know what's best for him, me, and perhaps you, or an official Starfleet enquiry with all the bells and whistles."

"Doctor Brooke, you will do no such thing. This is a Starfleet vessel, not Cardassian. We do not work by threats of blackmail. If Mister Mitchell says anything like that again, remind him of his rights and obligations. If he has a problem with one of my people he comes to me. Because if he does even remotely try it again, I will be going to my superior, Commander Brex. I will not have any of my people act like Romulan spies. I hate politics and I hate the pussyfooting around I have to do because of the egos on this ship. But I won't have 'vigilante' actions, nor threats against threats. Next it will be sos'taj in the spine! There are protocols on this ship and they will be followed. Am I understood?"

"Aye," Brooke said. He would take some actions anyway, but much more covert. Things like that were probably genetic.

"Good. Now, I will speak with Brex and we will discuss the issue. It will stay quiet, unless I deem it necessary. That satisfactory with you?"

"Okay," Brooke said, "but I would like you to give me some warning if possible. It's not only me, but also Shinta and the kids I have to think about."

"I will. Ok James. Is there anything else you would like to discuss?" Cat asked.

"The reason why we did the test," Brooke said, "no-one of them has any genetic predisposition towards EIS, so I think we won't see that problem coming up."

Cat looked at James, her face made it obvious that she wasn't convinced. "I hope you are right."

"We haven't found anything," Brooke said, "and it should show up, so there is nothing."

"I'll let you get back to being a doctor James. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Brooke said, heading back out towards his office and the paperwork there.

=====

Running a hand through his hair in a vain effort to organise the naturally occurring mess, Lorian Vas entered Main Sickbay, with a smile on his face, which quickly faded as he passed a Breen Observer passing in the opposite direction. The creature, who seemed to Lorian to radiate bad feelings, gave a dismissive glance to Lorian; at least the Trill imagined it to be dismissive, one could never be certain with Breen.

Failing to suppress a shudder, Lorian proceeded to enter into Sickbay, to find a security officer - the name of whom Lorian seemed to remember as Sophie Saran - comforting one of the Miranda's medical technicians, Bella Rivera. As he arrived at the Bio-bed upon which Bella was leaning, Saran gave Bella a quick hug, Lorian a smile, and chased after her partner and the Breen.

Apparently, Bella had been given a hard time by the visiting Breen, a revelation in response to which Lorian swore under his breath; a rarity, to be sure, as Lorian was not normally to express any sort of displeasure, particularly not in stronger forms. He reassured the younger woman and ordered her to exchange assignments with crewman Mankoi, so that she could have a "break."

Sometimes, Lorian thought, this extra pip has it's advantages.

Satisfied that Bella was okay, Lorian headed across to the Chief Medical Officer's Office, nodding a greeting to Lieutenant Brooke the ACMO, who returned a slight distracted nod in return, and pushed the panel, sounding a chime.

After her meeting with James, with his rather interesting revelations, Cat was still studying the padd and it's possible consequences and meaning. Cat looked up at the chime, and nodded to Lorian to come in. Quickly she spun and but the padd on the cupboard behind her and turned as Lorian stood in front of her desk.

"Sit down Lorian," Cat offered the seat with her hand.

"Thank you." returned the other, sliding gracefully into a seat on his side of the desk.

"What is it that I can do for you?" she asked.

Lorian cleared his throat, and began to speak. "When I was onboard the Sequoia," he began, "I began studying to become a fully qualified doctor with the Chief Medical Officer. I think my file shows that I was making good progress, and I would like to continue my studies onboard Miranda, with your help."

Cat nodded, "Most certainly." Moving from behind her desk, she sat on edge, "Shows how unobservant I've been. I will have to catch up on that immediately," Cat smiled. "So what is the speciality you are working on?"

Returning the smile, Lorian continued. "Xenobiological Research and Analysis, although I hope to be relatively sufficient in most forms of medicine, from Neurobiology to Pediatrics. How do you think we should proceed?"

"When it comes to a general practice, you will have plenty of experience for that. So don't be to eager to rush into that one. You've got yourself a pretty wide speciality. But for what I usually do is keep my doors open, to act as a mentor and what I normally do is roster a single half shift a week for you to work on your studies. This is in conjuction of your studies that you do when not on duty. I can put aside a little time to talk with you, discuss any problems or special needs you might have for you to finish off the degree. In general, I provide you the support, you've still got the hard work ahead of you."

"Open doors, mentor, hard work," Lorian listed, checking each on his fingers, "got it! So, how do you think I should start?"

"Well, you said that you were doing studies on the Sequoia. Give me an idea of what you were doing on her, we'll have a look at the requirements and go from there. I'll have a look at where you are in your studies and I'll have a better idea on where we should go. But for a start - just continue where you left off on the Sequoia," returned Cat.

Lorian studied the padd that had remained in his right hand throughout the conversation, thumbing the controls that ordered the screen to display his own log entries, he checked his last Sequoia entry; in the excitement of the transfer and mission, even he had forgotten where he was up to. Finding the appropiate information, he placed the padd on the desk and thrust it towards Cat, whilst explaining his progress.

"When the Sequoia was stationed as the flagship of the Genesis Wave cleanup, the CMO decided to make the work we did there; from identifying and studying new lifeforms, to autopsying the Lomar victims; my studies. So, I went about my duties as "normal", although nothing was normal about the wave, and by gaining the experience, I was completing my studies as required. Then I "tagged" the CMO, helping him with surgeries, analysis and anything else. I even helped deliver a baby when I was with him" he added, a fond look coming accross his eyes as he stared into space for a moment, before regaining his composure.

"So," he concluded, "I guess I'll just go about business as usual, but I would like to tag along with you where possible."

"Most of it's pretty boring," Cat returned with a smile. "Paperwork seems to take most of it," Cat pointed to the padds on her desk. "But certainly, that could be arranged."

"Oh," Lorian added, with a sudden rememberance, I also meant to ask your permission to do a survey of Breen physiology. I noticed the database was a little grey in that area. Would you have to clear that sort of thing with the captain?"

"I can deal with that," answered Cat. "That won't be difficult."

"Thanks Cat," returned Lorian, trying out the casual name with caution, and growing more confident when he was not reprimanded, "I'll get onto that right away, unless-" "Medic to the Anbo-Jyitsu room!" announced a voice over the communicator, putting voice to Lorian's thoughts. Anbo-Jyitsu had been, and would be, a thorn in Lorian's side; always a sprained ankle or bloodied nose to treat. Still, treating injuries like that was what he did, and he did it well.

"I'll take it." he decided, a smile growing on his face, "Besides, I haven't given anyone a lecture on the dangers of Anbo-Jyitsu for a whole two days." With a cheeky sparkle winking in his eyes, Lorian left the office, grabbing a medical kit, before marching from Main Sickbay with a chuckle.

Cat gave a slight chuckle and returned to the padd that James had given her. Sighing, she reached out and tapped the terminal on her desk, "Computer: Set up a meeting with Commander Brex, his earliest convenience."

"Renewing old aquaintences."

*Takes place immediately after Pat's "A tip of the gloved hand."

With
Ensign Zeke Wikkins,
Security,

and the former XO of the USS GALAXY, Commander Christopher Kell Thomas.

Place: The Breen conference room.
Time: Seconds after the Federation envoy's comm badges began to chirp.

There is an old adage that time heals all wounds.

Usually, as the sands fall through the hourglass of life, animosities cool and the rising tide of vengeance and ill will begins to ebb. Separated lovers can now pass one another without feeling the sting or heart ache. Enemies can find themselves in dialogues of peace. Axes get buried. Grudges dissolve.

Usually.

Sometimes however, the flames of pure hatred and the desire for vengeance can consume a man.

Commander Christopher Kell Thomas is an example of that.

Moments ago he had sprawled across the cold table top in an apparent drunken haze, spit falling from his lips.

After being rousted by the hustle and bustle of an apparent emergency forming around the Breen delegates and the Federation officers, he assumed a more alert posture more befitting of a trained Starfleet officer - yet at the same time, he allowed himself to appear nonchalant and almost forcibly disinterested.

To anyone who has known him, the man was hardly recognizable.

Since he had been exiled to the frozen tundra of Breen, the appearance of the former XO of the USS GALAXY had changed radically. Where once he sat proud and tall in the Number One seat on the bridge of the vaunted flagship of the Federation, he now lounged coiled calmly like a viper waiting to strike.

The warm demeanor of the bearded man that had once drawn comparisons to his Enterprise equal: Will Riker had been replaced by an ill hidden bitterness that simmered just below the surface of the man now sporting a graying goatee.

He had slimmed down considerably, giving his body a more lean and lithe muscular look.

A dangerous look.

He raised a pale skinned arm up and motioned the mammoth Security officer closer while never moving his distant gaze from the pair of Captains now consulting with their crewmates.

"What is it with the Galaxy and having looming Security Officers? The Gorn, the Indian and now you. What ever happened to the good old days when Security could walk through a doorway without turning sideways?" Thomas asked.

"Brother Thomas, please forgive my display of ignorance but to my knowledge Brother Zonheib is no longer on the ship. Brother Darkstar has been reassigned to unknown duties." Wikkins said with a shrug.

"Also to my recollection, there are no limits on the size of the Security Staff on this ship. Although I do remember a Dr. Sansky being extremely thorough in measuring my body before I was transferred to the Galaxy. I found that to be odd as only cousin Merrium had shown me such..attention before. She had such gentle hands despite having such thick callouses from years of groping udders."

Thomas raised an eyebrow and then allowed a smile to split his face.

"Ensign, you are not only a breath of fresh air in my banal existence, but no doubt a perfect fit amongst the rest of the misfits on that ship. Tell me, what lost soul do they have in charge of Security now? Has Savat returned and reclaimed his mantle after wrestling with Pon Far? Pailaka transfer over from the Helm? Maybe even the hellcat O'Grady?"

"I am afraid that Savat, Pailaka and O'Grady are not active members of the crew. Brother Corgan is now the active Chief of Security." Wikkins said.

"CORGAN?!?!" Thomas said with a laugh, "They must be desperate for manpower to give the reigns of a department to that emotional train wreck. Streely must have been frolicking in some tramps bed when they were searching for a replacement."

Across the table, the faces of the Federation crew grew more somber. Thomas inclined his head in their direction.

"Looks like the kids are having yet another crisis. Someone probably misplaced their collection of edged weapons again. Tell me, clod. What of the Centurion Tactical officer...Lysander Hawksley? He and the little red headed OPS genius were always climbing the ladder, usually stepping on each other in the process." Commander Thomas asked, the smell of alcohol upon his breath. "I'm suprised that they're not in today's dog and pony show either."

"Commander Hawksley and Commander Von Ernst both shared XO duties after Commander Peterson who assumed thy duties when thee were transferred. Both Brother Hawksley and Sister Von Ernst were transferred to classified assignments." Wikkins said. "And had I known that there were to be pony exhibits today, I would have requested permission to record them on a holo. My uncle Zebediah has a deep love for horses."

Thomas reddened slightly with annoyance.

"Peterson from Sciences? As XO? Who will they promote next? Shinta?McAllen? The mad Russian doctor?"

"Brother Malgan is no longer aboard the ship. The name Shinta is unfamiliar to me and Sister McAllen is a member of our Liaison Corps." Wikkins said.

"A Liaison Corp?!?! I suppose next you will be telling me that the ship was staffed with Marines too?"

"It was. Now we have a Starfighter Corps."

The former XO seemed to digest this carefully before turning once again to the Amish officer.

"What of Captain Bhrode? Where is he now? Died at the hands of some Hirogen? Assimilated by a Borg maybe? Leading a cavalry charge against an army of Jem Hedar footsoldiers?"

"Captain Bhrode is currently reassigned. He may indeed be encountering Borg or Jem Hedar. Rumor has it that he had boots made of the hide of a Hirogen. Perhaps rumors of his death in such a fashion are inaccurate."

Thomas slapped the table top in disgust.

"Is there nobody on board anymore?! They drove me from my ship and now they are not even there! That's Starfleet for you. They stab you in the back and then give what is yours away to complete strangers!"

"Brother Thomas, if my words have upset thee, I ask for thy forgiveness. I shall assign myself a rigorous penance for my error upon my return to the GALAXY." Wikkins offered.

Commander Thomas locked gazes with the hulking officer and grinned.

"On the contrary...Brother Wikkins. This conversation has been most enlightening. I hope you and I have the chance to speak further sometime. Right now it looks like business is about to pick up." he said nodding once more to the two Captains who had returned to the table with concern painted on their faces.


*(Authors note: Names above were drawn from the USS GALAXY TOS website. If I have erred in rank, personnel or position, I apologize. I figured while he is being mentioned, lets flesh Thomas out a little bit and add to the story! - Stash)

[Backpost]

"Dropping the Hammer"

(Takes place immediately after "Rage against the M'Kantu")

Principal Characters

Captain Daren M'Kantu
Lt. Commander James Corgan

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

Daren looked down at the series of reports in front of him and shook his head. Even on second review there was nothing else to do. Corgan's behavior was, simply put, over the line. There was no room for anything but the course that he'd laid out to the Sub-Commander, although, with luck, Corgan wouldn't have to face a courts martial. With luck.

=/\= "M'Kantu to Corgan. My Ready Room. Now." =/\=

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 38
Security Main

The spirited, rather surly message from M'Kantu to Corgan came right after his more enduring moments.

The security code was ready.

Tekri was in a position to be thoroughly stung.

Hell, even the security team, the mandatory combat ready team for Alpha shift that was organized during their tenure into Breen space (but could conveniently apprehend a criminal at any moment, if Tekri choose to strike) was ready to move out, on his command.

M'Kantu's message could not have arrived at a worse time, right after James said, "We have that b*tch in our trap now!"

Somehow, James had let his guard down on fortune. He had the good luck of being with a spectacular woman, and preventing an assassination at the same time. How he did not see M'Kantu flushing that opportunity down the toilet was surprising at best, and exasperating at the worse.

T'lan added in, "The Captain seems displeased.", knowing full well what Corgan was doing (lewd acts involving a certain Tal'Shiar spy and the sting that was to follow) and why.

The incident smacked of yet another wall waiting to assail him. James grumbled, "Thank you once again for upholding the counselor and security officer's tradition of stating the obvious."

Then, James stormed out of the security office, leaving T'lan to be miffed for the first time in her life. A Vulcan's dissatisfaction about a fellow officer's attitude could wait. James had a sting to salvage.

*****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

When James entered the room, Daren was standing by the window, mug of coffee in hand, staring at the stars as they flew by. A stack of PADDs filled fully a third of his desk, some awaiting the yeoman's arrival to pick them up, but the majority still unprocessed.

"Commander," Daren began without preamble, waiting only for the door to close. "Is there some reason you felt the need to send an invitation to Starfleet Internal Affairs to come and make your life into an approximation of hell?"

Corgan found the captain's unwillingness to cut straight to the point disconcerting, as if the Captain was waiting for Corgan to trip on his own words. ~"If that's how you want it Captain..."~ He thought, steel eyed, straight in military 'at ease' stance, waiting for the next move. A response wasn't easy, considering how little he wanted to reveal, without resorting to a smart-alec comment.

Though he had to admit, a threat from Starfleet Internal Affairs seemed miniscule compared to that of Admiral Hoth himself from three months ago.

"Sir." James slipped into soldier mode, answering with no distress and no fear of danger, but without much else emotion, "The issue at hand, sir."

"Your ill-advised and highly public affair with Atole Tekri, Commander," Daren said quietly. "Unless, of course, you've done something else that I haven't heard about yet that also qualifies." He turned and looked at James. "Have you?"

"No, just that." James nodded calmly, "Only other thing I can think of was during the war, and that was pardoned before a judicial committee." His eyes glimmered with a look that warned Captain M'Kantu not to enquire. "As for the Romulan attaché officer, I admit to an affair with her. We have had a relationship on and off for the past few months. It has become physical twice during these months, in which afterwards I have been checked over by a physician. Mostly however it has been conversation."

Shocked at the sudden willingness to come forward, James found his weight of guilt temporarily propped up.

Shifting temporary control of the inquiry, not trusting M'Kantu to understand Corgan's plans to stop his assassin girlfriend, he finished, "This isn't about physical details, Captain. I assume you are more interested in the ramifications of such a relationship, are you sir?"

"Whether or not I am, Commander, you can rest assured that the investigators from Internal Affairs will be," Daren replied. "You're going to be talking to them no matter what is said in this room, since Sub-Commander tr'Khellian has lodged a formal complaint against you - rightly so, considering your position and responsibilities. I have no ability to block such a complaint, and, frankly, at this instant, no inclination to do so even if I did."

There it was, the point M'Kantu brought up that would damn Corgan no matter what action he took. His face glowed red, and only then did he let his businesslike, soldierly manner drop. "So, no matter what reason I give, I am damned either way Sir. Am I correct in this assertion?"

tr'Khellian's name rolled about his head, associating itself with hatred and betrayal. ~"Wasn't he there with Major Bolivar and myself? Did he not hear my plan to get closer to the spy in order to catch her? Why did he doubt my abilities at this crucial time?! Because of his big f**king mouth, Savar's going to ruin the sting... and if he's the target, he's going to die while I wait to be disciplined! What a f**king idiot!"~

"No, Commander, I didn't say that. What I said was that you were going to be *investigated* no matter what happened. There's a difference between that and having your caree4r go down the drain because you couldn't keep your pants on."

"Then what am I supposed to say, sir?" Corgan roiled, showing considerably more restraint than Savar in his meeting with the Captain hours ago, "Do you expect me to sputter out some lame excuse... a crime of passion, or a verbose explanation about how I feel about her that will somehow get my ass out of the chopping block? Sir, with all due respect, your mind's made up. You said so yourself, no matter the outcome or the reason... disciplinary action is the only end of my road." With that point laid deeply with a smattering of frustration and futility, James sighed, "I supposed he didn't say why I choose to do this with Tekri, but then again telling him I would keep an eye on her was too vague, sir."

Daren sighed. "You might try offering a reasoned explanation, Commander. I never said that my mind was made up, just that I had no reason to block the complaint at this time. If you give me that reason, then the only thing you need to worry about is internal affairs - and I'll be standing there with you against them with they come. Without that reason, you're on your own."

"Sir, I knew what she was. Major Bolivar briefed me himself, and Savar was at the meeting because we suspected him to be the mark. I was also quite aware of how she zeroed in on me when she first arrived on the ship. It was all so clear. She is the spy, and I am the man who holds all the keys to this ship. To catch her in the act of performing her mission, she would have to go through me... and I was willing to use it to my advantage, even if it meant doing some very... terrible things."

"Assignments like that are never something to rush into; too many things can go wrong. And allowing yourself to become intimate with the operative you are attempting to capture..." Daren shook his head. "Rash, Mr. Corgan, too rash. There are protocols for that sort of thing, and you failed to follow them. That's going to be a problem."

"Sir, I had to act normal." Corgan sheepishly admitted, hinting at embarrassment, "When a beautiful young woman approaches you, is it so easily ignored?"

"If the woman in question is a Romulan operative, the answer would be yes. I can speak with experience in that regard, Commander: I was propositioned by a lovely Romulan officer, just after my wife and I separated. She was charming, supportive, and beautiful - and I was very lonely. I still said no the first and only time the subject of intimacy appeared."

"I still had to play along in order to catch her, sir. Treat her like a pariah, and she would eventually catch onto us. Thwart her at every turn and she would know we knew about her mission. Therefore, I had to be the dupe, the bait, the idiot, lust driven security chief to draw her in close... Or in other words, act normal! With her so close to me, she could take bait that would appear to help her on her mission, while in truth lead her to eventual capture."

"Did it cross your mind, Commander, that it might be... wise... to include you commanding officer on this plan? Or perhaps seek assistance from the Intelligence department? As I said earlier, there are protocols for this sort of thing, and you bypassed or ignored them. That's the part that I'm going to have trouble defending you on."

"For secrecy's sake, sir. The less people know, the better." James reasoned. "Better chance of keeping the sting a secret from her. Besides, I did get a physician's approval for intimate relations with Tekri, that documentation I can provide, and I am the head of security. As you know, you need the approval of a department head to get approval for a relationship with an alien species. A loophole, but one that I admit to using. So secondly, if I was to act normal, the subject wouldn't come up with you because all the necessary approval would have been garnered. But as for the idea of stinging the agent... I was afraid it would be leaked if I talked to you about it. After all, you would be a target for information."

He continued, "The intelligence officer in this operation is gone, as well as his wife, as you are aware. The new officer will need to be briefed right away, but with all our work on the Breen assignment and putting in 14 hour days for most of this week to prepare that and look into the Hazard Team idea... it has not been easy."

Daren waited patiently for James to finish. "Commander, I realize that this is a situation that hasn't come up before, and I am currently taking that into account, which is why you are not relieved of duty at this moment. Your interesting evasion of the requirements for duty-related extra-special conjugal relations notwithstanding, Starfleet regulations are quite clear on what authorization is required to undertake an operation of this sort, and the initial requirement is the authorization of the undercover officer's commanding officer. That would be me, in case you've forgotten. I gave no such permission, and, as such, I am well within the power granted to me by those same regulations to shut this operation down immediately." He sipped his coffee. "Do you understand that?"

Defeated, Corgan bowed his head, "Yes sir. Understood, sir."

"Good." Daren walked back to his desk and set the coffee down. "Now that we understand each other, we can get down to business. For the duration of this mission you are relieved of your duties with regards to the personal security for Sub-Commander tr'Khellian to prevent a conflict of interest and to compartmentalize any possible security leaks. Said duties are, at the request of the Sub-Commander, transferred to Lieutenant Krieghoff. Do you understand that?"

Listening with silent horror, Corgan was helpless while watching M'Kantu tear apart his plan. For all that it was worth, James Corgan was defeated, his sting was in ruins, and he still had to contend with Tekri, whom for all purposes wanted him either controlled or dead.

"Understood sir. I'll break off relations with Tekri immediately and give all I found to Lieutenant Krieghoff." Accepting defeat, Corgan nodded his head in agreement.

"Commander," Daren sighed. "You're not listening again. Did I, at any point, tell you that you were to break off anything?"

Confused, James asked, "Sir, if I'm in trouble for having a relationship, shouldn't I break it off? And if I'm ordered to stay off a case, should I not do so? What do you have in mind?" ~"Hold up moron! He said you're off the case for Savar's protection."~ He thought to himself.

"You're in trouble, Mr. Corgan, for not following regulations and securing command approval for an..." Daren looked pained, "...undercover... operation."

Corgan in turn couldn't help but be impatient, "And you are pulling me off Savar protection duty as a result. But what about Tekri? What should I do about her?"

"I'm removing you from the chain of command for the Sub-Commander's personal security for three reasons, Commander. One, because what you don't know you cannot be coerced to reveal. Two, because it's a distraction you don't need while managing the rest of the assignment. And three, because if push comes to shove, I do not want even the slightest chance of a conflict of interest to delay your taking action in protecting the Sub-Commander. Whether I like the man or not, Krieghoff will do what's necessary to protect the Sub-Commander." Daren took another sip of his coffee. "Additionally, by taking you out of the chain of command, I remove an avenue of attack for Internal Affairs to use against you - which we both know they would, no matter what the outcome."

In all accounts, M'Kantu was right about all points. Though James worried about Krieghoff's tendency to go above the regulations, he stayed silent and nodded his agreements. He didn't want to come off as a hypocrite. "Yes sir."

"Good. That's settled then. Now let's get down to your operation to entrap our Romulan agent, Commander. Tell me what you've done and are planning to do."

"Here is what I was planning to do, sir." James explained, "A handful of my most trusted staff, Lieutenants Krieghoff, T'lan and the late Lieutenant D'Tinya, are responsible for monitoring her movements, with D'Tinya as the liaison to the intelligence department. When Tekri first came aboard, we noticed that she took an interest in me specifically. The plan was to exploit this interest, by using me to personally observe her movements, piece together a psychological profile, and unravel her plan of assassination."

"As for entrapment, it hinges on a vital piece of information... her mark. Though we have a good reason to believe Sub-Commander tr'Khellian is the primary suspect, this fact is not without unreasonable doubt. We have Sub-Commander tr'Khellian discreetly well protected, with our usual team on deck 12 assigned to protect visitors and foreign dignitaries as well as our standby security unit near transporter room 1. However, if Tekri's mark is someone else... we may not be able to respond in time. Therefore, it was my task to find out by using my relationship with her... by whatever means available that do not violate her rights."

"Once we found out her mark and have proof, by voice record, communications logs or the files on her system, our security teams can then move in to neutralize her. We want to do this before she can pull off an attempt, but if in the event that we find out her mark while she tries to attempt the assassination, we will have security squads as mentioned before scramble and apprehend her."

"What do you have on her at the moment, Commander? Has your operation yielded any results yet?"

"Well sir... she has attempted to hack into our system a few times." Corgan mentioned, "She even tried to take my security code, but we caught her in the act and changed the code a minute later, sir. If anything, we can bust her for unlawful entry into our systems, but that would deny us the chance to confirm her victim. Still, a good backup plan in case things get too hard to handle."

"Agreed." Daren thought for a moment. "What precautions have you taken to isolate your codes from contravention if she does gain access to them again? I doubt she'll be foolish enough to use them in your quarters after the failure you describe."

"Well... she hasn't attempted to use the code yet, so it is likely she doesn't know." James added, "As for my codes, they are protected by 512 gigaquad encryption; one of our most advanced encryption methods available. The codes can only be used by me, whether it be DNA encoding on consoles, or voice print when dealing with vocal commands."

"Voice prints can be contravened by any trained operative, Commander. I'm sure you've had cause to do it at least once yourself this far into your career. The DNA encoding is more difficult, but an imaginative operative could work around that as well. If you don't mind a suggestion?"

"I can take a suggestion." James calmly stated, keeping his ego in check.

"Get one of your people to sit down with someone from Sciences or Operations - whichever has the best hacker - and create a completely self-contained, sub-system on the computer for her to access. Make it a copy of your personal system, with information that's close enough to reality that she'll believe she's gotten what she needs, and see what she does. You'll need to make her work hard enough for it that she doesn't think it's a trap - perhaps give her a false system that she can access, discover to be false, and then move out of into the 'real' system - the one you've constructed."

Corgan raised an eyebrow, humming his approval. Computers weren't his specialty (he could repair the physical systems, but not program them well). "I can think of a couple of officers that can do that, sir."

"Good. See how it works, then." Daren looked James for a moment penetratingly. "We're not going to have to have this talk again, are we, Commander? No more unauthorized operations?"

"No sir. I have already told you about the Hazard Team. That's the only other operation I am undergoing at this time."

Daren nodded. "Good to hear. In lieu of a general courts martial, and to satisfy the staff-watchers who are wondering how hard you're going to be slapped down for this affair, I am entering the following into your record: 100 hours service, suspension of command access to Bridge functions, suspension of responsibilities for the Sub-Commander's personal safety, and a notation that if a qualified replacement was available, I would have suspended you from duty."

James then turned cold, "In other words, the axe is over my head, sir."

"I said I was entering them, Commander - not that I was enforcing them. I can't be seen to do nothing; that would be more suspicious than anything else I could do. I would imagine that doing things this way would give your target many avenues to approach you on, don't you?"

James nodded, "It would pique her curiosity, sir. Either that or my punishment will scare her off. Either way, stopping the assassination would be a relief, and I'll use whatever means are available."

"Then let's see where this gets us, Commander." Daren picked up his coffee again. "One more thing, though, perhaps unnecessarily: remember who you are, Commander. Remember what it is that you're doing. Forming a connections to people is part of the human condition, no one expects you to be a robot. Just don't let a connection get in the way of you doing your duty."

"Sir." Was the acknowledgement Corgan gave.

"Then I think we're done here, Commander."

Corgan exited the Captain's Ready Room, conflicted and confused about how he should feel.

He was punished, but at the same time let go to continue on with his sting. M'Kantu was understanding, yet also disappointed by his conduct. Then there was Savar, whom understandably frightened by Corgan's relationship with his possible killer, was also vexing the security chief, as if Savar revealed to the world a shameful secret that should not have been left out.

Corgan also felt conflicting feelings. Shame, relief, anger and sorrow. He didn't know what to feel or what to do.

"Make Your Bed And Lie In It"

[Backpost: Occurs some time after "Dropping the Hammer"

Principle Characters:

Sub-Commander Savar tr'Khellian
Chief Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief Security Officer
USS Galaxy

Soundtrack: Barry Adamson, "Something Wicked This Way Comes" (Lost Highway Soundtrack)

The lights on the ship were starting to hurt moreso than usual. Glaring, searing lights from the roof of the hallways, pounding down upon the people within. Never ceasing until Gamma and Delta shift, a harsh, accusing light that winced sensitive eyes.

For reasons unexplained to Corgan's mind, the ship's lights were hurting his eyes. More specifically, his one eye, the eye injured by the Hirogen those few years ago. It was the eye injury that forced him to wear glasses, archaic as they were, in hopes of someday having the eye completely healed. It was also the injury that caused a liberal amount of photosensitivity in the eye, causing James to activate the shading tint on his glasses.

How bright the lights were. Searing, like the truth, one he had to mull over.

Was it any wonder instead of facing the light head on, he activated the tint on his glasses instead? He felt not strong enough to face up to the truth in his actions. Secretive, quiet, questionable. Much easier to put another veil over his eyes rather than adjust. So rather than face the truth about his actions as of late with a certain Romulan assassin, he kept thinking about other issues, such as his Hazard Team.

Unbeknownst to him, he was about to be confronted with the truth no matter how dark he shaded his glasses.

Sub-Commander tr'Khellian exited the turbolift at speed, already striding, confident in the automatic doors' swiftness not to impede him. He walked like this everywhere (with the exception of the Arboretum, where he strolled), looming up suddenly like a giant, dark bird of prey. His glowering looks and his foreign Galae uniform singled him out from the rest of the people onboard this vast ship, and in the course of his two years onboard, every officer, man and civilian had caught sight of the Rihana somewhere. Some parents even frightened their children by saying that, if they weren't good, they would be turned over to Sub-Commander tr'Khellian. What would the counsellors make of that?

The only thing that varied in tr'Khellian's stride was whether his feet made a noise on the deck or not. When he was furious, or wanted to announce his approach, his boots rang on the decking like iron. At other times, his footfalls were virtually silent, leading to jumpiness among his staff. Today was a silent day, for he was brooding, and so when he approached the intersection he was somewhat distracted - distracted enough to cannon directly into whoever had been walking up the adjacent corridor. Tr'Khellian was jarred, but it was the smaller man who tumbled to the ground.

The Romulan sighed irritably. He seemed to have a habit of knocking people over. Looking down, he saw the thin, bespectacled figure of the Chief Security Officer, blinking, and starting to get up. Savar repressed a smirk at Corgan's disarray. "I *am* sorry," he said, with an utter lack of sincerity.

When James found himself ass first into the carpets, looking up at the face of the man who damned his career and unknowingly screwed over his own chances of survival, the Chief of Security couldn't help but think two thoughts. One was to stop thinking about the ship's glareful lighting, and the other was rather inapproprate, and most likely to land more trouble than a night in Tekri's bed.

James opted for the first choice, one that would, with no doubt, dispell trouble for both officers. Using his one good eye, James searched and found his glasses, and calmly slipped them on, a sheepish smile to show he was at fault. He then picked himself up, expecting no help from the impolite Romulan.

It did occur to James that Savar was being rude. His arrogance was not unknown in the rumour mill. His hastily put together apology for ramming a shoulder into the chief of security while he was wincing from the bright lights was rude, condescending, and obviously brought out for protocol's sake, if not for a sincere attempt at making peace between the two men. However, James decided not to make a scene, deciding instead to allow Savar to trip on his own arrogance.

James was feeling slightly vengeful, and watching Savar act like a prick in front of the crew was more than enough for ratting Corgan out on the Captain.

"Sir," James grumbled, sizing the Romulan, whom was a mere inch shorter, but stockier and more confident about his stride. To the more imposing, if shorter man, Corgan smiled like a fox in the grass, and said through clinched teeth, "I apologize. I was not watching where I was going. Now if you'll excuse me," he added, giving Savar a hook to quip back, "I must go to my quarters."

Tr'Khellian smiled with genuine amusement at Corgan's attempt to be scathing. He could only guess from Corgan's unusually hostile demeanour that he had been carpeted by M'Kantu, and blamed Savar for it. His snide behaviour was contemptible and ridiculous - if Corgan had anyone to blame for his reprimand, it was himself, for cavorting so openly with that disgusting wretch Atole Tekri. As usual when it came to humans, a little more introspection and a far larger capacity for self-blame wouldn't have gone amiss in James Lionel Corgan's case.

"Of course," Savar said, simply, with a short bow. "I expect you have urgent business to attend to in your quarters." A smirk played at the edges of his lips as he folded his arms briskly behind his back, and turned to leave.

When leaving hooks failed, Corgan turned to brutal bluntness.

"I can forgive you for what you did." Corgan accused, now quite cross and steeling himself to match or even outmatch Savar's poise. "My actions were impulsive, though my intentions were honest and good. However, you seem intent on burying my face in it, under pretense no less. So tell me, what's with the f**king attitude?"

Savar spun smartly on his heel and was suddenly looming in Corgan's face. "You forgive me." Each word was enunciated like a separate sentence, spat out in his clipped faux-English accent, his eyes and nostrils flaring with shades of the rage he had swept M'Kantu with. "Well, how big of you, Lieutenant Commander. How gracious. How superlatively kind of you to forgive me for reporting you for deriliction of duty which could have led to my extinction. Sweet is the hour when your sun of mercy pours its glorious rays onto my unworthy, upturned face."

He paused and glared at Corgan. "Do not presume to criticise me when it is you who ought to be crawling with contrition. If you want to talk about 'fucking attitudes' - and, incidentally, kindly refrain from your foul-mouthed slang in my presence - then start by looking at your own."

Scathing was the remark, so much so that James couldn't help but wince. He sorely underestimated Savar's bitterness. "Sorry... I really am. I shouldn't have been so arrogant. I really should have apologized for my actions..."

"Quite," Savar snapped.

"Then... I should have told you to go f**k yourself, because that's just what you did," he quipped sarcastically, not helping himself to one lowbrow jab.

Savar sneered and gave Corgan a withering look. "I really do have better things to do than listen to your immature, potty-mouthed blathering, Lieutenant Commander. If you've quite finished, I'll let you scurry off to your bedchamber."

"You know what?" James sighed, feigning boredom as he scrambled for the words to out argue the eloquent Romulan, "I already know your problem with me, so do shut up while I school you in a few problems I have with you. Starting now, starting with the hundredscores of problems you've managed to develop within me overnight. So sit down, shut up, cut the filibuster, for it is my turn to set those pointy ears on end!"

Corgan's meet Savar's glare head on, rarely watching a person eye to eye for respect of other's privacy (eyes were the windows to the soul, an area most private). Corgan's poise was taller, more confident, more intimidating than ever output in his life. Not an air of fear, but of bravery, as if he was not afraid to stand up to the Romulan's verbal abuse.

Tr'Khellian was surprised by the human's sudden assertiveness. Corgan was, in his view, what human psychiatry would term a passive aggressive, someone with deep-seated anger and fears who nevertheless allowed himself to be swept along by events. His swearing - so prolific that it might earn a diagnosis of Tourette's Syndrome (Savar had, unaccountably, been reading a number of books on human psychology of late) - was one manifestation of that, the only way in which he allowed his anger to surface. Savar suspected that Corgan nursed a deep, murderous rage within his soul, and constantly fought to keep it in check. Corgan's direct, racial insult towards him had taken the Romulan aback.

James maintained his momentum. "Here is what I know, based on the limited information that I have. Months ago, we discussed as a group how to stop a Romulan spy. We knew, as a group, that this spy was damn interested in me. During that time, you had all the confidence in me to neutralize the threat said Romulan spy had on you. So here I was, the bait, out to get close to find out who she was after, how, and when. I also know that the months since our meeting, I received no word from you, no information, and definately no grievances about my relationship with her. Instead of talking to me about it, which I would actually listen to you because believe it or not I'm f**king concerned about your goddamn life..."

Tr'Khellian smirked, and leaned against a bulkhead, folding his arms over his chest. He fixed the bespectacled Security Chief with a look of contempt. At least now he was being honest for once - he didn't care about Savar's survival, and he was in utter deriliction of duty.

Seething at the unbridled truth as he saw it, James snarled, "You went to the captain and told the sordid story, thereby risking a leak of secrecy needed to catch the spy. And I had a talk with the Captain... he is very angry with me, and understandibly so. However, hearing the distressing news that the Captain knew myself and said spy had sex when I swore we both did it in private... it made me wonder... are you a pervert, or were you exaggerating?"

Tr'Khellian had little interest in Corgan's swearing or otherwise - he had it on good authority that they had engaged in sexual intercourse in the Arboretum at least once, and he had caught them dry-humping in a corridor on once occasion, too.

"If I were a pervert, Lieutenant Commander," Savar said, mirth dancing in his dark eyes, "don't you think I'd fill my time with something more attractive and exciting than the rather hideous thought of you copulating with a whore from the backstreets of Mhiessan?" tr'Khellian snorted and gave a nasty smile to his protector-turned-adversary. "I'd rather pleasure myself with a Klingon pain stick."

Corgan snapped, "The point is, and I say this because my plan is already clusterf**ked due to your big... wide... f**king mouth... I was this damn close to stopping the hit, any hit that was going to happen. I knew it, I was so damn close. That effort and that sneaking about... risking career and moral integrity... for nothing... because you couldn't trust me to do whatever it took to get the job done. Way to f**king go, tr'Khellian." He accentuated his point by shaking his head forlornly.

"Oh, so you had a *plan*, did you?" tr'Khellian said, in his most exaggeratedly sarcastic voice, rolling his eyes. "A great plan to foil the assassin, by bedding her on a regular basis? Keep her so busy recovering from shuddering orgasms that she didn't have time to kill me? Elements, what cunning, what genius! Have you considered a career with the Tal Shiar?"

"Look, tr'Khellian.."

"No. *You* look."

The Rihana's playful demeanour vanished like an ice cube tossed into a furnace. His face fell, and his dark, piercing eyes fixed Corgan's in an unbreakable gaze. "You dare to presume to stand here, in the middle of this corridor, and question me, and my motives, and my conduct? You talk about my 'fucking' this and my 'fucking' that -- well, let me tell you, Corgan, *you* are the one doing all the 'fucking' around here. You and that psychotic bitch-whore from the Tal Shiar. And not only that - and this is what you seem to have misplaced slightly in your nymphomaniacal mind - you have been 'fucking' with my life, and my continued existence, when you personally undertook to preserve it."

"I know there was risk involved..." Corgan tried to interject, without much success. His arguments, and his defenses were crumbling about. The reasons for his conduct were exhausted, so he had no arguments to fight back against the tenacious Romulan nobleman.

There was no pause or fumbling for words in tr'Khellian's indictment, no hesitation as there was in Corgan's voice, only the steady flow of sentences which battered James's ears. "You stood there in that room, and you said, 'Just give me the word, and I'll have you well protected'. What you actually did was allow yourself to be seduced by the woman who came here to kill me. And you claim that was part of your masterplan. The Captain was clearly no more taken in by that ridiculous version of events than I am likely to be. But I'm glad you've at least been partially honest with me, in revealing that you're not 'fucking concerned about my goddamn life'. That, presumably, is why you never came to me, but now have the audacity to accuse me of fault in not coming to you." He paused, his lips a thin, contemptuous line. "You betrayed the trust that I, that Captain M'Kantu, placed in you, for a few hours of sweated lust between the thighs of that susse-thrai. Do not dare to stand there and spit your bile at me. You are a disgrace."

"Disgrace!?" Corgan snapped right back, trembling, keeping his fists balled up and ready to strike, "You think I don't know the consequences of my actions? I kept telling myself what I had to do and how, justified it to myself no matter how much it made me sick or dread the possibility! I willingly accepted what punishments may come..."

James eased his defensive posture. His fists, white with rage, began to loosen, the blood flowing back in.

The thought occurred to him, knowing full well the questionable nature of his relationship with Atole Tekri, that his justifications were mere excuses. For what purpose, James had to ask? His actions were for good, or so he thought, his excuses trying to wash away a more selfish purpose.

He didn't deny that Tekri was good company. Never before in his life could he relax so well around another person. She did not show Romulan arrogance, but a curiousity and willingness to explore that could be called human. Her adventurous spirit contradicted a Romulan's more cautious nature. Though she rather rushed into physical intimacy too quickly, James pondered the idea of a woman being custom made to interest him. Or better yet, a woman trained enough to interest anyone once she found the right way to seduce.

It led to the examination of his relationship with Tekri. What was the excuse for the relationship? Again, under the guise of telling himself that Tekri was a wonderful, redeemable person, he willingly accepted her in his bed. To bear the shame of having sex with the spy, he had to believe that a more serious relationship could come of it, and that Tekri would turn around to a more favourable alignment.

All those truths he fabricated himself, saving Tekri all the work of seducing him, so that he could stand his own actions.

~"Excuses..."~ James grumbled to himself, ~"I've told myself all these excuses all along. Maybe I was acting too selfishly. Christ... Savar's right. I did it all... for what? Sex! That @$$hole was right!"~

"...or so I thought," James begrudgingly admitted.

The Romulan simply stared at Corgan, a hollow look in his eyes. "Indeed," he breathed, quirking his eyebrows. "But, to adapt a human saying, you have made your bed - and filled it - and now, Lieutenant Commander, you must lie in it."

Corgan grumbled, "Are you through rubbing my face in it?"

"If you are through ranting, Lieutenant Commander: yes."

"Good." Snapped the security chief, "Lieutenant Krieghoff's in charge of your security. He's one of my best officers, but also one of my most impulsive. If you talked to him like that, he would either respect you more... or tear your head off. Be thankful... that I have some measure of restraint."

Storming off with a cloud of gloom overhead, James Corgan choose the quickest way to avoid Sub-Commander tr'Khellain. He entered a turbolift and punched the co-ordinates for his quarters.

The lights didn't hurt so much anymore. It was now his pride that bore a vicious wound.

"Expecting the Worst"

[occurs around the same time as the Away Team beam down to Breen]

Primary Characters:
Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Acting Chief Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

Lieutenant JG Ven'r Nong
Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

****

Tactical Offices
Deck 11
USS Galaxy

****

"Chief Tactical Officer's Log: Stardate 58323.1. After two days at impulse speed, USS Galaxy has arrived in the Breen system and assumed a high orbit above the Breen homeworld. During my confinement to the Battle Bridge I have been receiving regular updates from Lieutenant Nong on the Bridge. The Breen spying party has now departed and we are free to resume our work. I am splitting the department between the Tactical suite and the Battle Bridge for the duration of our time in Breen space. I am not convinced of the Breen's good will and, with the Captain's direct authorisation, am about to put arrangements in place to ensure dreadful retribution should my suspicions be borne out."

****

Sub-Commander tr'Khellian emerged into the outer Tactical office, hands clasped in their customary place at the small of his back. His dark, inscrutable eyes swept briefly over his assembled staff. "I will keep this brief as you all have duties to return to. I cannot stress enough the importance of eternal, unblinking vigilance whilst we are in Breen space. It is not our job to think well of the Breen or to hope for the best in the forthcoming negotiations. It is our job to despise the Breen and to expect the worst."

Tr'Khellian paced between the two lines of desks where his junior officers were seated. "You are all aware that the 12th fleet is on manoeuvres along the border; you are all equally aware that the border is three hours away at maximum warp. I want as many strategies as possible to be developed on that basis: we have to at least survive until rescued by the 12th fleet in the event of an attack."

"Lieutenant DeColton, you are to analyse the Breen cruisers and battleships for any structural weaknesses. Lieutenant Remur will assist and provide a liason to Intelligence. If we are *extremely* fortunate they might be able to provide some information on Breen commanders and tactics. If not, expect the usual pointless platitudes." Savar paused and sipped from a glass of water. "I will be co-ordinating possible battle tactics and we may run some drills if the opportunity arises. That is all."

The Romulan walked back towards his office as his staff gathered their things and prepared to depart. He gestured subtly towards Lieutenant Nong, however, who quickly apprehended Savar's meaning, and followed him into his office.

"I have a special assignment for you, Lieutenant," tr'Khellian explained, moving around behind his desk and bringing online the display panel behind it. "Something that will allow you to use your particular talents and your.. unique perspective."

"I have informed the Captain that deterrence may be our best defense in the Breen system. We have to be capable of inflicting devastating reprisals on the Breen should they attack us, and then be able to demonstrate that capability. In human parlance, I believe the term is 'sabre-rattling'.

The screen began to display the hostile, blue-green world of Breen, spinning slowly on its axis. Scientific data scrolled alongside. "The initial science report drafted by Lieutenant Kara'nin has been fleshed out since our arrival at Breen," tr'Khellian noted, tapping at the console. Lines of dark red began to glow on the representation of the planet. "Of particular interest to me are the underground lava flows which keep this elements-forsaken ball of ice and rock alive." He watched the veined globe turn. "Intriguing, is it not, that a species which thrives on the cold should inhabit a world where molten rock could so easily burst to the surface?"

Tr'Khellian broke off and looked at Nong levelly. "I mention these two things simultaneously not on a whim, but because, as I am sure you have now fathomed, I believe the latter may provide a solution to the former. I would like you to carry this project forwards."

"Computer, suspend security sensors in this grid," Ven'r called to the ship's core, preventing what he was about to ask from being recorded. The commands to recognize his voice and perform a bioscan to identify him were still in the command subroutines. That way he only had to give code-signs for Intel-level access and commands.

+Voice recognized+ the computer responded pendantically, accompanied by the requisite chirps. +A higher ranking officer is present and therefore requires their voice-authorization as well+

"Recognise tr'Khellian, Savar: authorisation tr'Khellian-alpha-pi-352," the Romulan said, eyeing Nong.

+Confirmed. Security sensors disabled.+

"Are you authorizing me to make a foray onto the planet or would you prefer my... 'surprise' be prepared here on the Galaxy?" Nong cocked his head as he asked the question, his scalp twitching with interest as he surpressed his crest. His quick mind had already devised several possibilities for the assignment, from various angles. "Do you wish to have plausible deniability for the Galaxy with the cover of the possibility of a 'natural disaster', should the need arise or will that matter if our hand is forced?"

"Let me be absolutely clear about this, Lieutenant," Savar replied. "I want you to create a deterrent to any Breen assault on our ships. Once it is created, I want the Breen to know about it - that's how a deterrent works. Only in the event of their attacking either of our vessels would the solution be employed. Deniability, if available, would always be a bonus; but it is secondary. I believe Starfleet has its Academy to avenge, after all."

Nong nodded and paused, cocking his head slightly. "Starfleet does not seek revenge sir. It is a tenet; a regulation, is it not?"

"You don't seem to be understanding me, Lieutenant," Savar snapped, displaying clear irritation with the mongreloid's pedantry. "I want you to create a deterrent. I am not asking you to seek revenge on the Breen. The situation is this: we are stranded in the middle of Breen space, three hours away from rescuing forces; by which time, we will all be dead, should the massed Breen fleet decide to attack. I am asking you to solve this problem using the principle of massive retaliation: if they attack us, tens of thousands of their people die. Now, is that clear enough for you, Lieutenant?"

"No sir," Ven'r replied flatly, his treble-toned voice speaking in spine-shivering thirds, "I understand you perfectly. However, you made an observation indicating vengeance was a motivation to be considered. I wanted to make sure the motivation was clear. I will, of course," he replied with a nod of respect, "follow your orders. Is there anything else sir?"

Savar sighed at this robotic display from Ven'r Nong. He had still not fathomed the inner workings of the strange man's mind: having expected Nong to react with enthusiasm to this task, he was met only with Vulcanoid pedantry. "No, no," tr'Khellian said, wearily. "This is a classified assignment, Lieutenant. If you need additional resources, let me know. Dismissed."

"Patience Rewarded"

By
Captain Elaithin Jii

"Sir." the youngling strode forward, gathering his Commander's attention. The tall insectiod turned it's chitinous head in response, indicating the Adlan should approach.

"The devices are ready ahead of schedule. Our allies are prepared, and merely await our signal to begin the attack." the junior officer reported

"Excellent." Gr'Chinick breathed, as the T'Kith'Kin commander drew himself to his full height. "The Mr'Hata is prepared for battle. Send the initiate commands."

"At once, Commander."

It was time.

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

Lieutenant Shawn Faraday lightly drummed his fingers on the helm console in front of him. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why they even had to have a helm officer on duty while they were in orbit. It was mind-numbingly dull to simply go in circles around a large planet.

"Bored, Lieutenant?" Commander Brex asked from the command chair, offering his typically gregarious smile to the younger officer.

"Sorry, sir. It's just, that.. Well.. Nothing's happening." the helm officer repeated.

At the Tactical station, Lieutenant Circidon Yashanti's canine ears perked up at that, and she muttered a small curse. "Why'd you have to say something like that, Farraday? You've jinxed us for certain."

Shawn's only response was to roll his eyes at the Xanthe officer's superstitious criticism.

A sudden beeping started emanating form the science console where Lieutenant Cernu K'rn was currently stationed, drawing looks from all across the Pathfinder-Class starship's bridge. Circ shot a look at Farraday then, one that was promptly ignored.

The Bolian Executive Officer stood and tugged on the bottom of his jacket, and the moved to stand near the science console. "Report, Mr. K'rn."

~It is most curious, Commander.~ the Q'lrn exchange officer replied telepathically. ~There is a field of subspace distortions beginning to appear in large quantities of Breen space. I am at a loss as for an explanation of why.~

"Effect?" Brex asked, a most uncustomary frown decorating his features.

~It would appear to be a subspace null-field of some kind. If my postulation is correct, communications, warp drive, even your Federation computer systems would not be able to function in them.~

"That doesn't sound good." Farraday commented, stating the obvious.

"Quite right, Lieutenant." Brex replied, and turned to face Circidon. "Lieutenant Circidon, hail the Cap-"

He wasn't even finished speaking with the Tactical Officer's attention was drawn to her board and she quickly cut him off. "Commander, I have multiple contacts coming in from the sunward side of the system."

"ID?"

"T'Kith'Kin." Yashanti replied, meeting the Commander's gaze. "One command cruiser and three smaller vessels. They're coming in fast, and based on our past profiles, I believe their bio-plasma weapons are ready to fire. I don't think they're here to talk."

There was an intake of breath across the bridge, particularly from those who'd been aboard three years ago, the last time the Miranda had faced the T'Kith'Kin in battle. It had only survived by utilizing it's first deployment of it's MVAM capabilities - the previous two vessels to bear the name had met their end at the hands of the insectiod, paranoidly xenophobic species.

"Red Alert." Commander Jaxom called out, speaking up for the first time. "Senior officers to the bridge."

"Lieutenant," Brex replied, still speaking to Yashanti. "Alert the Galaxy, and our Breen escorts. And get me Captain Elaithin."

"The Breen have already raised shields and are moving to intercept." Jaxom reported, having taken over the OPS console from one of his junior officers.

["Elaithin here."] came the voice of the Captain. ["What is it, Commander?"]

"Captain, we have a situation up here."

"What's going on?"

"Multiple T'Kith'Kin contacts coming in, with weapons armed. Breen moving to intercept, but without assistance, they'll be wiped out." the Bolian reported.

["We've e just found out from the Breen that they've been under attack by hostile powers. They want us here because they don't want to fight us and them at the same time. Captain M'Kantu is in command, defer to his judgment. Let him know, however, that my recommendation is that we assist the Breen in any way we can."]

"Understood, sir."

["Keep me apprised, Commander. I'll try to coordinate things from down here. The Breen are bringing planetary defense systems online. Elaithin out."

"Commander.." Yashanti interrupted again. "Four more vessels on approach from the other side of the system, also running with weapons active."

"What?" Brex asked, whirling around. "Who are they?"

"They're..." the Xanthe frowned as though she was trying to be sure of their readings. "They're Hydrans."

Commander Jaxom frowned at that as he and Brex locked eyes. "No one's seen the Hydrans in.. decades. Why would they be here?"

"Somehow, Mr. Jaxom," Brex intoned "I doubt they're here to talk either."

"No doubt." the Trill replied, and looked down to his beeping board. "Captain M'Kantu's hailing."

"Put him on."

["Commander Brex, we received your notification. The Breen have issued a formal request for assistance. I was monitoring your discussion with Captain Elaithin, and I concur to a point. Unless we are fired upon - "] the African Captain began, and was interrupted as plasma fire shook both vessels.

"That would seem to settle the question of why they're here, Captain M'Kantu." the Bolian offered.

A saddened and grim look crossed Daren's face then. ["It would seem so. Follow my lead, Commander, and defend your vessel as best t you are able. Let's not do any more killing than we have to."]

"A sentiment I can agree with, Captain."

["Galaxy out."]

"Bridge to Commander Hammond, scramble Rogue Squadron." The Commander ordered, imagining that M'Kantu would be scrambling his own fighter squadron at that time as well. On the screen, it seemed the T'Kith'Kin and Hydrans were already launching their own versions of the same.

"You wanted interesting, Mister Farraday." the Bolian noted. "Attack pattern Romeo-Nine."

"I take it back." the pilot muttered, and complied with the command.

"Lieutenant," Brex said, now addressing Yashanti... "photons and phasers on my command."

"Ready."

"Fire."

Cold Preparation

Ven'r strode down the engineering deck workshop two and accessed the lock manually. He had reserved the space verbally and prepared certain holofiles in advance, ready to access them and built the models he needed.

Stepping in, the massive bulkheads closed and the security sensors deactivated, and the automatic file/security access monitors showed the files but not the contents. "Computer- access files Vehnahr-sigma-six through Vehnahr-theta-two and present the holographic data in series on the engineering table. Configure for touch interaction per my profile."

The computer, in turn, accessed the files and brought the images into being as semi-solid representations in miniature with much chirping. In a few seconds all of the devices were arrayed in a circular pattern.

"Remove outer representations," he ordered and with a chirp, the metallic and ceramic hulls of the devices were removed, revealing their internal workings. Waving his hand over the tri-C warhead, it enlarged by a factor of ten. Touching the warhead housing and the intermix housing, the illuminated in red. Waving at the warhead in the opposite move caused it to shrink back to its former size as he selected device after device, component after component.

"Computer take-" he began and the red alert claxon sounded. "Save program."

+Program saved+ the computer replied a second later.

"Status inquiry: tactical alert situation."

+Tactical alert status was called by Captain M'kantu+ the calm voice of the computer supplied even as Ven'r ran from the room to the lift. +Sensors show four approaching T'kith'kin vessels and four Hydran vessels, configuration are unavailable at this time+

"Bridge," he ordered the lift and staggered slighty as the ship shook. His senses told his it was a plasma weapon, likely the 'T'kith. The Hydrans used certain subspace-type weapons but they had not been a Federation issue for half a century. He hoped they hadn't discovered something too heinous in those decades. "Computer- status of tactical systems."

+Shields hold at ninety-eight percent, no hull or system damage is present. Weapons are charged and-+ Ven'r stepped onto the bridge and tapped his badge to close the channel, taking his position.

"I relieve you," he told the ensign on duty, touching the panel and allowing it to recognize him. He directed the junior officer to the secondary tactical panel to monitor shields and work with Ops. Tapping in a series of commands, he readied a 3C and several Q-heads for delivery and set the phasers prolong firing bursts by twenty-percent. The drain on the ship's resources would be minimal but it should also allow him to work out an advantage, or at least he hoped. With deft commands he established a tactical link with Miranda, ready to share whatever data either ship developed in response to these threats. He then tapped into the fighter-links, obtaining their tactical data and running it through a translation matrix so he could monitor and determine their effectiveness against their foes.

Then he sent his weapon's data to the Captain's Tactical overview as a recommendation: hard and fast, phasers and warheads on one ship at a time.

Lt jg Ven'r Nong
asst Chief Tactical Officer
USS Galaxy

*backpost: takes place before the away team beams down

"What Makes a Man?""

Principal Characters

Commander Arel Smith
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

*****

USS Miranda-B
Deck 52
Security Main

It was fascinating, Victor observed, to see the repressed embarrassment and guilt that Starfleet had towards the mere existence of the Security Division. On every single ship that he had served aboard, the Security department, despite sustaining heavier casualties in the performance of their duties than most other departments put together, had invariably been relegated to the lowest levels of the secondary hull, hidden away where no one would see them and be reminded that such a thing was still needed in the bright shining galaxy full of sheep that the Federation had made. The Miranda was no exception to that, as the numbers proclaiming him to have arrived on Deck 52 proclaimed when the turbolift doors opened.

He stepped out into the corridor and nodded to a pair of ratings waiting there, the two personnel staring at him wide-eyed, their conversation lost as his presence triggered signals from the primitive, animal parts of their brains that made their hearts race and urged their feet to turn and carry them away as fast as they could go. That had been the same aboard every ship he'd ever served aboard too.

Victor ignored them and turned to the left, following the directions he'd downloaded to the Miranda's Security Main. He'd missed the meeting the two Security Chief's had called to let everyone going down to Breen because of his newly-expanded duties in overseeing Sub-Commander tr'Khellian's safety, and had been forced to arrange a meeting with the Miranda's Security Chief outside his duty hours guarding the Romulan officer. This was better anyway, he reflected. He'd never been good with large meetings - too many reactions to try and deal with. Better to just meet the woman face-to-face and see what his presence would do to her.

He passed through the doors without breaking stride and stopped in front of the Duty Officer's desk. "Lt. Krieghoff to see Commander Smith. I'm expected," he told the Brikar stationed there in an oversized, reinforced chair.

After a few minutes of trying to calm down his fight or flight reflex, the Brikar went to go to talk to Arel. He came back shortly, waving Krieghoff in from the other side of the room.

Victor nodded wordlessly and moved across the room, filing the information that his presence affected at one member of the Brikar species. He'd never encountered one before, and would have speculated that their silicate physiology would be immune to the effect if he'd been asked. The door to Commander Smith's office opened at his approach, and he continued in without pause to stop one meter short of her desk.

Arel looked up from her computer PADD and her eyes widened comically.

Victor supposed it was too much to hope for that just once he'd encounter a superior officer that his presence didn't affect.

"You're...you're..."

Idly, Victor occupied himself by listing all the things he'd been called in similar situations in the past while the Commander made up her mind which one she was going to use.

"Real!" Arel exclaimed. She broke into a steady stream of Klingon before ending in Federation Standard. "I should have known the brat couldn't make an original character."

That was different. "Real, ma'am?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head to the side.

"Never mind." Arel said, her face slowly losing its animation and, hopefully, the blush she had felt creeping up. She had kissed this man! Or at least his hologram. She could see why Sam had used him though. Victor Krieghoff didn't disappoint, even if his presence did make her feel like clutching onto her mek'leth.

"I suppose you came here to give your formal complaint in person." Arel said in a neutral tone. There had already been three that she knew of from the Galaxy officers.

"Complaint, ma'am?" Victor asked, the tilt of his head increasing slightly.

"Knock off the ma'am crap, Lieutenant." Arel replied flatly. "I know your department recently lost a pregnant security officer. I dont mean to be rude but that's just too damned bad. I'm not going to sit on the ship twiddling my thumbs just because everyone assumes that I won't be useful down there. "

"You're a superior officer, ma'am, I'm required to use it. I can call you 'sir' if you want." He shrugged. "D'Tinya was a good officer, and she made good choices - even the last one. As long as you make good choices, it makes no difference to me if you're pregnant or not - I'm not in charge of this mission."

Arel raised an eyebrow. "You're really not here to make a fuss?"

"If I were here to do that, Commander," Victor said calmly, "you'd already know; I'm hard to ignore in such cases."

"Well, thank Kahless for small favors." Arel said. She then frowned. "What are you, Krieghoff?"

Victor frowned slightly. "In what sense do you mean that, ma'am?"

"I will not admit to fear." Arel said slowly. "But you make my skin itch. Are you human?"

"Ah. That would depend on what you consider 'human' to be, I suppose. The tests they did at the Academy said I was, in any case."

Arel grunted at that as she looked him over. She didn't understand the response her body was having to him. He was a good looking male but other than that....well, she'd faced the Borg for Kahless sake.

Arel wanted to roll her eyes at herself. Like that argument has worked wonders for you in the past, 'Rel.

"Will *you* make good choices?" She asked finally.

"I'll make choices. Whether they're good or bad will have to wait for their outcome."

Arel shrugged. "Then we shouldn't have a problem. Might even impress upon our Breen friends." She said the last part with a sneer.

"I doubt it. I walked up to one of the observers aboard the Galaxy to see if they reacted to me the way other races do - it didn't. I think their physiology and mental makeup is too different; they don't realize what I am."

"Too bad." Arel said with a small sigh. "I would have really liked to see them shit themselves with fear. Too few things make me laugh these days."

"Pointless," Victor observed. "In their life support suits how would we know?"

"Oh sure." Arel said. "Spoil my fun."

He shrugged. "I do what I do, I am what I am. If that means spoiling your fun, then that's the way it is, ma'am. I'm paid to die so the sheep I guard don't have to - or to make someone threatening my sheep do it first. I normally follow the second path. Acting like, or pretending to be, something I'm not isn't part of that."

She'd always appreciated blunt honesty. Well, for the most part."Krieghoff, I think we're going to get along just fine."

"I doubt it. Sooner or later I'll do something you won't like or agree with, or you'll figure out what I am. Everything will change then."

Then again, Arel thought.

"Kahless, you're a gloomy ko'tal, aren't you? Look, just don't kill me, any of my crew, any of your crew, and I shouldn't have a problem." Arel said. "By the way, why are you here?"

"I can't promise that, ma'am. If that's what I have to do, I will." He set an iso-chip down on the desk between them. "I didn't know if you'd get a copy of my file or not, so I brought you one. You need to know what's beaming down with you in advance. I wanted to do that, and to see if you could stand being near me enough to work with me. Betazoids can't, some others. Humans vary, but most can't be near me for long periods of time without it getting to them. We both needed to know which you were."

"So, do you think I'll do, Lieutenant?"

"I don't know yet, ma'am. Maybe yes, maybe no; I never know until it happens."

"What happens?" Arel asked curiously.

"You can't deal with what I am. Sometimes it takes seconds, sometimes days. Rarely, never - you'd need to be something other than human to stand a good chance of that."

She snorted. "It'll take more than you, Sparky, for me to bug out. Besides, my attention is devoted to killing a particular man and you're probably his exact opposite."

Victor's head tilted further. "So kill him if he deserves it. No sense taking forever to decide. I know some people can't do things like that and not have it bother them, but it never bothers me."

"You're lucky then," Arel said. "And anyway, it's too complicated to do it right now. It's probably going to be one of those fight to the death things and I'd rather not do it while I'm carrying a wide load. Plus, I don't really want to explain to my child why I killed his father."

"That's only a complication if you make it one, ma'am. Your child will understand why it was done or it won't; worrying about it now is pointless. If the man needs to die, kill him. Otherwise he never needed to die in the first place. Waiting solves nothing."

"I know that." Arel snapped. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Well, you've completed what you've come here to do. Go away now, Krieghoff. You're going to irritate me and we'll have plenty of time during the mission for that. Stupid waste of a mission as it is..." She broke off muttering.

Of course, ma'am," Victor nodded and started to leave. "I do that to everyone sooner or later." He paused at the door. "Ma'am?"

She didn't bother to correct him. Arel had a feeling that some things just didn't compute with Victor Krieghoff. "What?"

"Just so you'll know, you can expect that there will be problems with my being in close contact with the others. Especially if any of them have Betazoid ancestry, or are non-Vulcanoid telepaths." He smiled briefly, the room's temperature seeming to cool as something else looked out of his eyes for the few words that followed. "But the Breen observers don't react. I don't believe they know what I am."

"I have the feeling, Krieghoff, that before this mission is over they'll find out." Arel replied.

"The Fourth Volley."
By Commander Brex

The Bolian first officer sat in the captain's chair and watched the small groups of fighercraft launched from the Miranda, Galaxy, and the enemy vessel engage in dogfights and other point-to-point manoeveurs. But the capital ships were not spared from the engagement either - each side having launched their first, second and third volleys at one another.

".. port shields are holding at ninety-three percent," the Miranda's second officer reported from Operations.

Brex nodded.

The Miranda sent off several shots - striking one of the T'Kith'Kin vessels escorting what appeared to be their lead vessel.

Tapping in some instructions in to the small duty console in the armrest of the captain's chair he turned to the Flight Controller duty station. "Helm, take us in to pattern Beta-Three-Zero."

"Aye sir," Faraday responded as he entered in the new flight pattern.

The T'Kith'Kin were one thing - Brex's review of the Miranda's duty logs at the time of his assignment to the vessel more than illustrated an even match. What concerned the executive officer was the presence of the Hydrans - what technologies and weapons they had at their disposal could be cause for concern.

"Mr. Yashanti, have someone coordinate with Science and see if we can get a better analysis on those Hydran vessels," Commander Brex remarked, standing up from his position and looking towards the Xanthe security officer.

Yehenik glanced up from his console for a moment. "Aye sir."

"And Mr. Yashanti," the Bolian added, "feel free to indulge yourself ... fire at will."

"Hazard Team Tryouts #3"

Lt. Cmdr James Corgan
Lt. JG Claire Barnes
Ensign Zeke Wikkens
Ensign Paulo DiMillo
Ensign Tarin Iniara
Attaché Nyssa Alvarez
Pilot Voss 'Prophet' Ferris
Lt. JG Chase Remur

NPC's:

Ensign Chet Caldwell (Engineering)
Lt. JG T'lan (Security)
Lt. JG Shelly O'Rourke (Security)
Ensign Jeremy Showers (Ops)
Lt. JG Walter Marsh (Security)

"Computer, end program."

The orchard as everyone knew it to be was gone, disappearing into the yellow and black grid. The holodeck, now restored, also swiped away the Breen uniforms imposed on each officer, their weapons, tricorders, and the subspace transceivers in their possession. The officers were once again starting anew.

A jumble of officers were piled, chest high on a normal terran, wrestled with each other to get back on their feet.

"Marsh!" Ensign Showers complained loudly, "Hey! What the hell was that for? You had us strung up in the trees for an hour!"

Lieutenant Marsh, attending to Lieutenant O'Rourke with his comrade Lieutenant T'lan, shrugged his shoulders at the pile of officers (a good half dozen), all formerly cocooned with vines by Marsh himself. Being the survival expert and handy with traps, Marsh was under the baleful stares of the men and women he caught. Not that their disapproval bothered him too much. It was an honest mistake, and he was therefore unrepentant.

T'lan applied a pressure point to O'Rourke's shoulder, bringing out a yelp from the former legal expert. In the simulation, T'lan applied a Vulcan nerve pinch to her friend to stop O'Rourke from inadvertently fragging her.

Groggy, O'Rourke grumbled, "You didn't have to knock me out."

T'lan replied, "My method of neutralizing threats was... humane."

"I was a lawyer. We're never humane..."

Claire giggled from the side, seeing she had been one of the few who hadn't been trapped,

"At least you didn't get cooked in the forest fire I started."

She knew it wouldn't help their annoyance at Marsh though.

Remur, for her part, turned and grinned at Iniara. The second task had been a showcase for her particular abilities, which were more along the lines of technology and data warfare, and though she'd nearly been fried by the Bajoran, once they'd gotten together, they'd quickly taken the task to task.

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

Paulo and Alvarez got to the perimeter. Paulo's tricorder told him that the transmitter was inside, and he was going to get in. He had kept his eyes on his tricorder and found that a few of the dots, that he was pretty sure was the team, had disappeared. Paulo took it as they had gotten there.

Nyssa continued looking around the area, her senses open as she held the phaser that she had taken from one of the dead Breen that they had encountered. Her eyes caught Paulo's, they both stopped for a second as Nyssa nodded silently to him.

For some reason there were no guards, but Paulo didn't want to take a chance, so they entered slowly. His tricorder said there was nothing between them and the transmitter. Just a few meters from the transmitter a few dots appeared. Paulo and Alvarez ducked into a doorway. They waited a few minutes as the dots walked by, and they both jumped out, jumping the Breen and knocking them out. Paulo lifted one up as Alvarez opened the door so they could dump the Breen.

They crept along till they got to another door. Paulo scanned it with his tricorder. "I think I can hack in," Paulo told Alvarez as he started to work.

"I think you better hurry," Alvarez said from behind Paulo as she watched his back.

Paulo took a quick glance at her tricorder and saw what she meant. A few dots where moving their way, and quickly. Paulo went back to work, working double time. A few keystrokes later there was a clank from inside and the door opened...

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

Paulo and Alvarez looked around. The corridor they were in was gone, and three other team members where there. "Guessing we finished?" Paulo asked.

The holodeck arch reappeared, opening its doors. Corgan stepped out of arch, purposeful and full of smiles.

"Good work everyone." He congratulated the crowds, "That was a very difficult training scenario, designed not only to judge the combat readiness of a Starfleet officer, but also test their reactions by simulating a mental attack. You all might encounter psychotropic drugs, telepathic invasion, neurogenic fields... anything the enemy might pull out to mess with your heads. Many of you handled it exceptionally well, and even tried some tactics which surprised the hell out of me."

James scanned the room, locking onto T'lan. "T'lan, good work. You showed caution and awareness in spades. You were able to understand your situation, and try to contact others in the volunteer group." Then, James added to the chagrin of Lieutenant O'Rourke, "You neutralized your ally without lethal force when the attempt to contact her failed."

T'lan nodded, "Thank you sir."

O'Rourke snapped out of her melancholy, and defended, "I didn't know it was her, sir!"

To that, James replied, "Yes, you weren't supposed to find out easily. I said this before, this is a special forces grade trial. Not everyone will be able to pass. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to ask Marsh a question."

"Yes?" Marsh asked.

"You did well, quite well. However, you bound and gagged the wrong people without knowing it. As impressed as I was by the sheer amount of people you tied and gagged, and by how you and T'lan found your objective... I still can't ignore that gaffe. Be more careful next time."

"Yes sir." Marsh accepted without argument.

"Alright... DiMillo and Alvarez, you worked well, with a few kinks aside. Good job." Corgan congratulated the team, "Alvarez, DiMillo, you continue to exceed my expectations. For officers who are not specialized in combat operations, you've handled yourselves well. Though I must admit, I was worried when you decided to disarm yourself Alvarez. Why did you take that action?"

She looked "In the beginning the rules of the game were unknown, it wouldn't have done us any good to have been caught with federation weapons or equipment on us. So the weapon had to go until another alternative could be found." She stopped and thought about that "Plus there was no way of knowing If the Breen were able to scan us or not, I assumed they were not able to make details from the problems we were having, yet energy signatures would still be detected, so to stay alive it was only logical that the one power source that they could easily detect had to go."

"Hmmmm... still risky, but I understand. Next..." Hummed James, "We have Lieutenants Barnes Remur. Good work you two, I was impressed. Barnes... you did ok, but what is with you and fire? Your last two strategies involved a liberal amount of it, and I was afraid that you would burn the whole grove down on itself."

Barnes looked down on the floor uncomfortably.

"Alright... I won't go there. Next we have Ensign Wikkens. Lucky for you, you found the Breen's hidden base... mostly a matter of luck and the program's ability to send people on a random part of the grove. However, I have to ask, what did you plan on doing there?"

"I..." Ensign Wikkens stammered.

"However..." James failed to add until now, "I forgot to tell you all what the purpose of this base is! Lets play the blooper reel and find out its intended purpose!"

James snapped his fingers, and out appeared a vidscreen, hovering overhead of the volunteers. Within that screen laid the image of Ensign Zeke Wikkens, sitting on the 'command chair' of the installation, a small, portable outhouse sized pillbox concealed in the hills of the grove. Wikkens nonchalantly unfolded an alien newspaper, after unzipping and sliding down his pants (thankfully cut off at the equator).

The audio track blared out a noise best described as a 'violated trumpet', and the noise was drawn out for a long period of time.

"Corn cob again, Mr. Wikkens?" James sighed, bowing his head down in embarrassment.

"No. I only retain the corn cob inside my person for 2 hours after my shift. It is an old world remedy for constipation that was passed down to me by my third uncle Cyrus. He showed me such things in the barn often. For dinner I supped upon hog fat and raw wheat. Thy should try it."

"I... think I?ll pass on that one. Thanks." James said off to the side, "Well, it doesn't matter too much what you were eating Mr. Wikkens, because this next part, which you remember real well, could be best described as the scene were everyone learns why you should not use an alien restroom. Ensign Wikkens, since you've had first hand experience, tell me, what happens if Breen pull down their refrigerated longjohns?"

"Thy words are quite accusatory, Brother Corgan. I assure thee that I have never had relations with a Breen. Sure I have been accosted in a sexual manner by various alien species, yet the merciful ALL FATHER laid the cup of alien sodomy before me. From what I have read on the locker room walls, if a Breen removes their longjohns, they would be exposing their ice laden rods for all to see."

"Ok... you have it half right, Ensign. I'm not calling you gay, but ice laden rods do have something to do with it. The Breen have to keep themselves cold, or they will dissipate. And since the Breen have to pull down their pants to do their business, wouldn't it also be logical that they have to keep cool to save their lives?"

"When I was but a young lad, my uncle Mathiaas showed me how to wrap myself in a cabbage leaf. He said I should do this whenever I should find myself with sinful hooors. I would assume that in the event that there are hooors on Breen, that the Breen would need to have protection whenever they are exposed. Therefore, thy words may have a degree of truth to them."

"In other words... yes. THAT's RIGHT!" Corgan congratulated Wikkens, "As you'll see in this next clip, Wikkens discovers first hand what its like to be chilled like a side of beef! Roll it!"

The next clipped started normally, with Wikkens being finished. In the middle of reading the Breen sports section, Zeke turns his head to a beeping noise. A green light activates, and immediately jets of cold freon blast at his body. In seconds, Wikkens is turned into an icy cold corpse.

James explained, "Don't worry men and women. The only effect on him is a little chill, and his holographic Breen suit paralyzing him. At that point, he was out of the exercise. Oh... and I forgot to mention... Ensign, there is no plumbing in the holodeck. Where did you think it would go?"

Allowing that little factoid to sink in, various volunteers came to the realization, and wrinkled their noses in disgust, while 'ewwww'ing away the mistake.

"Don't worry, it's off to the corner." James answered, "Thankfully, we have to go to the firing range while maintenance cleans up Wikkens mess. Come with me, and we'll start the final phase of this exercise."

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

The firing range was the adjacent holodeck, and a short walk. A score of stalls was lined up at the front, but no visible firearms or targets were yet out.

"The final phase, then you get to know if you'll be the first members of our team." James Corgan swept his hand over the field, "This test will be to test your proficiency with Starfleet weaponry."

Iniara had remained silent since the second test had ended. Now, the corner of her mouth curved slightly. These tests just kept getting better and better.

Oooh... Chase's mouth did the opposite of Iniara's. While she was proficient in the use of many different weapons, she wasn't necessarily the most accurate. She was far better at hand to hand combat.

"You will be tested with various and random weapons presented in our arsenal. To be a Hazard Team member, you must have proficiency with not only our rifles and phaser pistols, but also the heavy squad based weapons more common on a marine squad. You will find that these weapons will appear in your stall randomly, and unassembled. It is your task to assemble your weapon, then fire at the targets being presented in front of you. This will be a time trial, so do your best. To this, I say good luck, and happy hunting. BEGIN!"

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

=/\="Type 3 phaser!"=/\ The computer's announcement brought about the firearms into each volunteer's target range stall, unassembled down to the circuits. With the parts of the weapons strewn about their area, the volunteers set to the task of assembling. The less than initiated fumbled through parts, scratched their heads, and tried to remember the vague moments during phaser training at the academy when their instructors assembled their phasers blindfolded.

Many failed. One of these people was Ensign Caldwell, who after attempting to slide a resonance coil into the firing chamber the wrong way, managed to have the coil pop out of the gun, his fingers, and a second chance of recovering the item in midair with his other hand. The coil skittered into the target range, out of reach.

Paulo walked up to his stall and grabbed the first weapon, an older type 3 phaser rifle. He remembered using this back in the Academy for training, as it was a simple weapon to use and to assemble. Paulo quickly put the weapon together, checked the charge and fired at the first target.

The target itself was a Borg drone from when they first contacted the Borg pre Wolf 359. Paulo fired the shoot and hit him, but the Borg had adapted already.

'Damn,' Paulo said to himself. Paulo quickly adjusted the firing pattern and fired again taking the Borg out. "I hate Borg," Paulo said to himself. He had never actually fought the Borg, but he had been on Earth when the Borg went back in time, but that was the closest.

Ensign Showers, through sheer luck, managed to assemble his phaser rifle, and started shooting at the cluster of dancing white lights. One errant shot struck the coil, vaporizing it to cinders.

As the other volunteers were, by now, tallying scores on the scoreboard behind them, Ensign Caldwell helplessly looked at his ruined, and essential, phaser part.

"Screw it." Caldwell threw his arms up in the air, and promptly quit.

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

As the phaser parts first appeared, O'Rourke looked down with fear, losing any vestige of self confidence she harboured before. Corgan swiftly beat out any pride she had in the exercises, ignoring how well she fought, or how fast she ran. He saw no good points in her performance, but instead lambasted her for the selfish, scatterbrained, cowardly way in which she conducted herself.

Then she realized the hours of practice spent on Starfleet's most numerous and oldest production rifle in service, and knew it was easy. Snapping the parts together was like assembling a puzzle of technological destruction. In under a minute's time, O'Rourke chased aside her doubt, and brought the hellish fire of her rifle to bear on a charging Borg drone.

The drone went down easily, yet to deliver its shielding.

Next was a probe, not one she recognized, but one she fired at nonetheless. Three shots whizzed passed the probe before O'Rourke could finally bring it down in a messy fireball.

She was about to fire at a skittering, mechanical spider, until the phaser rifle disappeared....

**********

Claire grinned, glad that her engineering training helped. Her time on the Victorious helped too, and she managed to put the device together with time.

She finished putting the weapon together and started firing, dropping to one knee. There were various targets, and she blasted away until the weapon was taken away from her, pouting.

**********

Fuck...

Remur knew she had done this fairly recently. When Commander Henderson had been the Chief Tactical Officer, he'd required all of his officers to be able to assemble, operate, and aim Type 2 and 3 phaser weapons. Unfortunately, that had been several months ago, and it remained to be seen if SubCommander tr'Khellian would be continuing the procedure.

Luckily, she also had a knack for technology, and after a few mistakes, she lifted the rifle to her shoulder and took aim at the Borg drone. When it adapted, she knew exactly what to do, adjusting the frequency and blasting the half human half machine into little more than atoms.

Switching over to the mechanical spider, she attempted a few shots, but found the skittering insectoid construct to be a far more difficult target than a six foot tall Borg that moved like a zombie.

**********

The assembly of weapons wasn't quite her area of expertise, but that by no means meant Iniara didn't know what she was doing. After only a split-second pause to orient herself, Iniara snatched up the parts of the rifle, quickly reassembling the weapon. In one fluid motion she powered up the weapon, brought it to her shoulder, and fired one lethal shot at the advancing Borg drone, felling him instantly.

A flying probe appeared next; Iniara took one second to line up a clear shot before blasting it into oblivion. A mechanical spider-thing appeared on the ground before the probe had even dematerialized. Once more she lined up the shot and fired, and small robotic bits scattered all around her stall. She searched for the next target, but the weapon had vanished before anything new presented itself.

**********

Nyssa looked at the parts of the phaser rifle, her years out exploring space came in handy since the most common and often used rifle was the type 3 rifle.

Nyssa quickly put it together and double checked all the settings, her fingers pressing the small button to turn the weapon on. A soft sound of the weapon powering up greeted her as she trained her eye onto the target of the first borg drone.

She kept her finger over the trigger as the drone approached, she hadn't needed to shoot anyone in recent years and the only practice she had gotten was at the mandatory 6 month weapon certification that everyone seemed to do.

With a final breath Nyssa pushed the trigger button and the steady stream of phaser fire left the barrel of the weapon, hitting the drone dead on in the center of his chest.

She looked up as a second target appeared, her eyes trained on the flying ball as she fired the weapon again. This time Nyssa swore under her breath as she missed the target completely, she aimed again and fired. The phaser stream hitting the target well to it's side but hitting it enough to bring the target down.

Nyssa jumped as a spider legged looking thing appeared close to her location, her eyes zoomed in on the target as she pushed the trigger button. Nyssa swore again having missed on her first attempt, and she was sure at the rate it was closing she was only going to get one final shot. She looked down the barrel of the rifle and fired missing it by a few feet. Within seconds the robot disappeared and she knew she had missed that target.

=/\="Type 1 holdout phaser!"=/\ Out of the highest scores, the one to beat was always the Vulcan.

Her eyebrow raised, perplexed by the sudden disruption of her phaser drill routine, Lieutenant T'lan snapped back to work, scooping up the parts of the tiny Type 1 phaser, and assembling the pudgy, wand like device in the palm of her hand. Nothing in the exercise challenged the Vulcan security officer yet, for none of Corgan's mind game laden exercises couldn't faze even a Vulcan child. With typical Vulcan aplomb, she slapped a power clip into her phaser, leveled the weapon, then let the gigantic floating yellow smiley face have all her crimson beamed wrath.

Nothing a Vulcan couldn't handle. T'lan was quite confident.

Paulo looked at it. This was a simple enough. Starfleet had made sure everyone could at least take apart and put together these old type 1s. Starfleet hadn't changed the design in years, and it was simple enough. Paulo snapped the last piece together and fired and the smiley face. 'Two yellow,' he said to himself.

Iniara worked silently, assembling the phaser in near-record time. Her right hand held the main body of the weapon while her left hand worked as if it had a mind of its own. The possessed hand popped the last piece into place and with lightning speed Iniara?s arm shot out from her body, right hand powering up the weapon and firing in a single uninterrupted motion. The joyful yellow face never had a chance.

Nyssa smiled as she looked at the hand phaser, her soft hands pulling the energy clip into the holder and locking it in place with a small 'snap' sound. Almost instantly yellow smiley faces appeared on the target range and with a few brief pauses Nyssa raised her weapon.

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

Remur assembled the holdout without too much trouble and powered it up, but as she raised the weapon to aim at the hideously bright face she found that her grip on the small, sleak firearm was too tight and it slipped from her grasp, propelled up into the air by her tightening grip.

~Panic! Don't want to be like Caldwell!~

Leaping forward she leaned out onto the range and attempted to catch the falling holdout phaser. Going up on the ends of her toes, she held her balance with an arm that was hastily thrown back.

Reaching out, she felt the phaser slip through her fingers.

Quickly she dropped to her knees and snatched at it again, this time catching it successfully. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

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

=/\="Tetryon Pulse Launcher!=/\ The parts and pieces of the newest weapon rained down on Ensign Showers (no pun intended). On his knees, the harried Ensign snapped together parts, twisting two cylinders together, then clicking in modules that piled on top of each other. He sweated, strained, grunted and panted, his eyes looking for the imaginary stopwatch that was reminding them of their fate.

Through adrenaline and a miracle, Showers had a Pulse Launcher in his hands. He hefted the metal monstrosity on his shoulder, feeling the weight and aligning his eye to the sight. In his target range, a simulated Maquis raider floated lazily in an alien atmosphere.

"Nice..." Showers whistled as he loaded the weapon, pulled the trigger, and let fly a glowing, amber ball of energy. The weapon whined and howled out its shot, and the energy ball shrieked as it flew at supersonic speeds. He was then rewarded by a yellowish plume erupting from the raider's left wing, then a crash partially obscured by oily smoke.

Showers jumped up in the air, yelling, "YEAH! COME GET SOME BABY!" Loading another round into the launcher, he then looked for another target.

What came next did surprise him so much that he fired out of gut instinct. The smiley face he saw before in another volunteer's target range popped out of nowhere; big cartoon hands tried to envelop him in a garish bear hug.

By gut reaction, he did pull the trigger. A simulated flash and a ball of fire going off in front of his face, Showers tumbled to the ground in surprise. His weapon shimmered off his shoulders, and his target range shut down.

The text message, =/\=Failed=/\=, in bright red and bold letters, stared down upon him.

"Awwwww man..." Showers bemoaned his loss.

'Crap,' Paulo thought. This was a new weapon. He of course had gotten the specs on it, and he had fired one once, but he had never put it together. He started snapping things together. He was about halfway done when he realized he forgot to put a coil into place, and had to take half of what he had done apart.

A minute later he had it put together. He fired, but nothing happened. He checked the power cell and the main discharge coil then tried again. He looked back at it, and then on the floor. He picked up a small chip and realized what he had done. He had forgotten to insert the chip at the beginning, and without it, it wasn't going to work.

The weapon shimmered out of his hand as the next weapon moved on.

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

Claire grinned happily when she heard the pulse launcher listed. She had been training with one of them back at the academy before she came to the Galaxy, and found them quite useful.

Visualising the internal works, Claire closed her eyes and began using just feel to snap the components together. Opening them up, she noted that there were no bits left out and cranked up the power.

Strapping it on, she began aiming at some small creatures sent out at her. All of a sudden, she saw a group of hefty green aliens appear.

Charging towards them yelling, she dropped to her knees and rolled before shifting it to auto-fire. The aliens went down in a blaze of fire, along with trees, which promptly started spreading.

Groaning when another nearby holographic tree caught on fire, she knew the chief was gonna yell at her.. Or arrange for mandatory counseling sessions for being a fire-bug.

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

This was a pretty new weapon for her, Iniara realized as the pulse launcher was announced. She took a moment to scan the parts until her mind automatically told her hands where to begin. By now she was running on instinct, adrenaline and the will to succeed fueling her every motion. If asked later, she would probably have a much harder time assembling this weapon.

The weapon came together nicely, if not without a little added effort. Iniara hefted the weapon to her shoulder as she took a knee, aiming and firing confidently at each target the computer presented. A pleased look emerged on her face as the weapon did its duty. She was definitely enjoying this.

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

Nyssa looked grimly at the weapon and simply turned around and announced to everyone close by. "I have No idea how to put this weapon together, I've never even seen if before and before today never even heard of it. I am sorry but for this weapon test I will not be able to complete it."

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

Remur was flying.

Relying on her natural knack for technology alone, she managed to pull together a working pulse disruptor and raise it to her shoulder. Aiming carefully at the incoming vessel, she pressed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Lowering the weapons, she spun it in her hands to check the underside, where the clip was inserted. There it was. Spinning the weapon again, she checked the alignment on the barrel. That was fine too. Frowning, she glared at it and realized that in her haste, she'd neglected to power it up.

Chase knew that in a live fire encounter, she'd be dead now, but she chose instead to stubbornly press on, powering up the weapon just in time to dodge the flying golden smile that jumped out of knowwhere at her. Waiting for it to circle out of her immediate space, she opened fire, dropping it.

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

=/\="Photon rifle"=/\ The firing range turned into a starfield, and the ground the hull of the Galaxy. Moments after the new environment materialized, photonic bursts swatted humanoid targets off their magnetic boots and into space.

Not many people were around at that phase of the test. Six were still around.

O'Rourke, who was fumbling still to assemble her weapon.

Marsh and T'lan, at a dead tie and leading the firing range test, swatted aside their targeting drones with impunity. Barnes, Remur and Tarin, through the speed of assembling their weapons alone, held out well in the contest, trailing not far behind. Alvarez's lack of experience with weapons and DiMillo's mistake with the photonic launcher kept them behind, but still qualifying.

Nyssa stood up and approached the rifle, she had used this weapon once before when she was back on earth. She took aim with the rifle and fired upon the targets that had appeared, Nyssa smiled as a bead of sweat dripped off her forehead. She blinked seeing the targets she had downed and was happy that the 10 that had appeared she had scored almost 6. She knew in her heart that she was above proficient in the common Starfleet weapons, but she knew she was starting to reach the limits of what she had come across.

=/\=Type 2 phaser=/\ A crowd gathered at the last remaining people, watching as their phasers snapped together. A few more enterprising ensigns were taking bets with food ration credits.

"Go T'lan!" One of them cheered out.

"Keep silent." Corgan commanded in a booming voice over the firing range intercom.

The weapons had been steadily increasing in complexity, and the considerably less sophisticated Type 2 had almost thrown Iniara off. It hardly seemed to affect her as she reassembled the pieces and took aim at the newest targets. Smirking, she tossed the phaser from her left to right hand with each shot, even firing behind her back at the last target.

Chase had to restrain herself from laughing when the hand phaser appeared. Slapping the power pack and energy cell into place, she didn't hesitate as she opened fire, and though her aim was often a little off, she was doing far better than she ought to have been.

Nyssa looked almost shocked as the weapon before her turned into a Type 2 phaser pistol, the thing sat there looking at her for some time before she was able to smile and pick the weapon up in her right hand. She place the power clip into the holder and fired a few shots at the targets, she was happy to be back in something more her knowledge.

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

=/\=Type 3d Pulse Phaser Rifle=/\ Fatigue was beginning to creep in, and Iniara was wondering how many weapons were left in this test. But when the pulse phaser rifle was announced, Iniara?s mind surged with renewed energy. She went into a semi-trance then, all her memories of the weapon flooding back as her fingers danced over the pieces with increasing speed.

Iniara was caught in a momentary reverie as she admired the weapon, stroking it lightly with one hand. Then in an instant she snapped into position, targeting drones once more tasting her wrath.

As the crowd was weeded out further, more gathered to watch the survivors duel it out. An excitement, an electrifying buzz circulated the air, as everyone bit back celebratory cheers to watch the contenstants rack up ever increasing scores.

All except O'Rourke.

She was about to concede defeat. Her fingers would not obey her commands to assemble and fire. Her eye failed to line up the shots properly. The targets moved too fast. The weapons were always too disassembled to piece together properly.

Her score was also abyssmally low. Nobody noticed her sorry performance, instead focusing on her 'perfect' Vulcan friend, T'lan, and her equally adept aquaintence, Marsh. Their scores were still tallying, as if the numbers never stopped moving. Their shots always lined up perfectly, and their targets always fell. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever her other security 'friends' performed, for it always seemed a better show of skill.

"I'll show them!" O'Rourke grabbed at the rifle parts with fervor. Just like her friends, she snatched up the rifle buttstock and handle, and tried to expertly snap the two pieces together.

Only they would not come together. Smacking the two pieces into each other repeatedly, O'Rourke tried to force the pieces to join, yet the stubborn pieces refused. Whacking on the pieces like bludgeons, she used the table to project more abuse on the rifle parts, and still, they would not come together. A ruined rifle piece disappeared from her trembling grip as the next phase came in.

"Forget it!" O'Rourke growled out, "I give up! Screw that perfect little goody two shoes Vulcan and that stupid bush baby! And screw the pyro b*tch that gives me nasty looks! I GIVE UP!"

As a final insult, James boomed out, "Quiet! Exercise in progress!"

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

Nyssa had picked up the pulse rifle and raised the small targeting sight along the barrel. She watched from the corner of her eye, admiring both the Vulcan and the other man who seemed to be shooting with amazing precision and skill.

She raised the pulse rifle up and took aim upon the targets, knowing that this time around she was going to have a horrid score. The weapon simply was too unfamiliar and Nyssa was starting to get tired from the concentration that was needed to constantly acquire and shoot the new appearing targets.

Indeed it was no surprise to her when someone in the group had shouted that she had given up. Nyssa paused for a brief moment before continuing to fire on the random targets.

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

=/\=Romulan Disruptor Rifle=/\ Inwardly, Iniara groaned as she heard the next weapon announced. She had fired more weapons in her lifetime than she could remember, but firing and assembling were two entirely different things. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to slow down and concentrate on the principles of the weapon. Disruptors were disruptors after all, and if she had learned so much about Cardassian and even Klingon disruptor technology through the years, she should be able to apply that to a Romulan disruptor. Without a second thought, she got to work.

Suddenly, she was crouched against a dank cave wall. She pushed an invisible strand of flame red hair out of her way, her concentration still unbroken as she assembled the Cardassian rifle. That one word kept repeating in her mind. Cardassian.

In her stall, Iniara finished assembling the weapon and then took aim at her first target. In her mind she was still back in that cave, taking aim at a lone Cardassian who had appeared in front of her. His hands held an identical rifle and his thin lips were arched into a sadistic smile as he approached. Iniara recognized him immediately.

?Taste this, Marcin,? she hissed as she took out the first target cleanly. A new one took its place, but to her eyes it seemed the Cardassian had suddenly jumped to the right a few meters. Undaunted, she took aim and fired again, then again, repeating the process as she shot her most hated enemy square in the chest each time. With each shot he reappeared in a different location, thoroughly incensing his Bajoran opponent.

Iniara's teeth were grinding in her skull and her lips were pulled back in a feral grin as she took out the targets one by one. If it were possible, her aim was actually improving. Unbeknownst to the other competitors, she was in a far away place, taking revenge upon a very distant enemy.

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

"You will not beat me. My reflexes and motor skills are superior." T'lan flatly stated.

"I still have more experience than you, T'lan." Marsh retorted back, "You're not even blooded."

"I am still superior. I am Vulcan."

"I am human. I don't give a damn."

The two security officers, by far the top runners in the group, traded barbs as easily as they disintegrated the can-can dancers on the firing range. The dancers gave way, as instantly a carnival shooting range took its place. The frightened carny manning his game ducked the table to avoid the emerald death circling through his game table. Hapless bunnies and ducks, all sporting bullseyes on their bodies, popped and spun back into place upon impact, with little in the means of escape than the belt pulling them along.

T'lan and Marsh pinged their targets with frightening accuracy. No shot missed. None dared to miss, or lose the upperhand permanently.

"I am still superior." T'lan shot her targets at ease, her voice flat and emotionless in Vulcan fashion. "My skill is rated as advanced in marksmanship."

More grim and passionate, Marsh retorted, "So am I. And unlike you, I have experience on the field."

"Experience will always hit a wall of pure genetics. My potential is so much more, Lieutenant." She yelled over the noise of her crackling weapon, as a score of ducks and bunnies fell, "Accept defeat. I will outlast you."

"Yeah... well... I love you!" Marsh quipped.

Remur finally broke out laughing, allowing the barely assembled rifle to dip slightly from it's target, and causing her another miss. ~Oh well,~ she thought. After a quick glance at the scoreboard, she was pleased to see herself ahead of DiMillo and Alvarez. The others she knew where better than her in the first place.

T'lan flinched at the last second. Her indefeatable Vulcan concentration waivered, and with that, so too did her phaser rifle. Her finger hesistated to pull the trigger at the last second, while Marsh fired a last shot into the carnival game, hitting a bullseye on the last bunny.

Nyssa took a long time to put together the rifle and admittedly looked to the others for silent help. The moment of truth came as she turn on the weapon, a high pitch whine came from the rifle as she quickly powered it down and looked to the others. "Well that's another weapon I have no clue on" she said with a smile removing the power clip before it could do any further damage.

=/\="Exercise complete."=/\ The carnival game disappeared. Then, so too did the rifles, the carny, and the other target drones. The holodeck was scoured of phaser burns from errant shots. As pure as it was before the exercise, the volunteers were left in a gridfield once more.

"That was an illogical statement." T'lan nodded her head at Marsh, "What prompted you to perform such an irrational emotional outburst?"

Marsh held a large grin on his face, as his finger pointed to the scoreboard.

T'lan: 1082 Marsh: 1083

"Gotcha." Marsh grinned.

Her face flushed green and her fists quivering, T'lan spoke in a less approving, harsher tone, "Such an illogical tactic. It had nothing to do with marksmanship. My superior skill should have defeated you."

"Hey, it worked." Marsh shrugged.

"A most irrational use of emotion. It did not work. You... merely distracted me." T'lan faltered.

"Sure I did." Marsh agreed, nodding his head, "I distracted you. Not like I meant anything by that. You would have to be emotional to be truely embarrassed by that."

"I am not emotional." T'lan insisted. "I'm not."

"Sure you are, T'lan. But I still won." Marsh walked away, leaving T'lan to work out, in the framework of Vulcan logic, how she could have lost.

"I should have won." T'lan concluded.

O'Rourke stated, "Marsh, teach me how to get under T'lan's skin like that."

"Anytime, Lieutenant." Marsh joked.

T'lan argued, "He did not get... 'under my skin', I merely."

The arch appeared, and out of it came James Corgan, clapping his hands. "Congrats everyone!"

"Congratulations everyone! Now... ATTENTION!"

Corgan ceased to clap his hands. His aviator glasses hid the expression of bemusement in his eyes, though the smile on his face showed how pleased he was with the exercise. The volunteers lined in rows, not even coughing out a sound.

Running the Hazard Team volunteers through the strangest exercises James could conjure up while watching from above in the observation lounge, he felt a sense of satisfaction.

There wasn't enough volunteers to fill the Hazard Team, but would do in the interim.

"Again, congrats. I was satisfied with your efforts. Many of you put a great effort in this exercise, and to those who did, I thank you. However, not everyone can pass this exercise. I made it purposefully tough to weed out those who have yet to meet the Hazard Team's standards. Therefore, I have narrowed the field down to the following officers:"

James unfolded his arms from behind his back, reading off from a PADD he concealed, "Lieutenant jg. Chase Remur. You've shown versatility and intelligence out on the field. You have great instincts. Hone them and your skills, and you'll be unbeatable. Welcome to the team."

"Lieutenant jg. Claire Barnes. Believe it or not, an interest in fire can be a good thing in this job. Your skills as an engineer and a security officer will be invaluable. Welcome to Hazard Team."

"Ensign Tarin Iniara. I've seen enough of your record to see you have more than enough life experiences to help the Hazard Team. Your use of your telepathic powers on the Breen scenario impressed me, as did the amount of passion you threw into the third exercise. Congratulations for passing the exercises. You're on the team."

"Ensign DeMillo, you've shown yourself to be a capable officer, and I have no doubt you'll be an asset on the field. Hazard Teams have never used an Intelligence Officer before, but I have no doubt that I can integrate you into the existing Hazard Team structure. Welcome aboard."

"We have Attache Alvarez. Attache... you have guts coming here. I didn't expect a diplomat to go this far. You have skills that can be utilized, however... there is a problem. A complication, more apt to describe what we have here. You lack the proper certification to be on a Hazard Team."

Before Alvarez could object, James added, "However, I have a proposal. You are talented, no doubt about it. You'll need to pass the Starfleet Academy Security Training Course. You can take it by correspondance, take all the tests in the holodeck, and even train with the Hazard Team. Consider your membership into the Hazard Team as a practicum. Congratulations."

"Lieutenant jg T'lan, you have shown yourself to be an exemplary officer during the last two years. Your combat skills have greatly improved during this time. You have also shown exceptional awareness during all the exercises. You are now a Hazard Team member."

"And finally, Lieutenant jg. Marsh. Vacation hasn't dulled you a bit. Looks like you've learned a few new knots. A few techniques on how to truss up humanoids. You even beat T'lan in the firing range. Consider yourself part of the hazard team."

Pacing up and down the group, Corgan finished, "Well, thank you again for coming by, and showing your stuff. I don't consider anyone a waste here, but not everyone can qualify. If, for those of you who fell short today, still feel they have what it takes to become a member of the Hazard Team, I will allow you to take the test again when a position needs to be filled. But now that you know we have stringent requirements, you will be able train and prepare."

"As for the rest of you, the ones who have succeeded, I am proud. You will still perform your regular duties on the ship; abeit a couple hours less than usual. As Hazard Team members, you will train in combat operations extensively, until squad tactics become as easy as breathing. Outside Hazard Team, you'll be a regular officer, doing your duties, keeping up with developments in your field so that you'll continue to be an asset to our team."

"So far, we have seven. A standard Hazard Team consists of twelve members. The rest i'll request from BUPERS, so we'll have to do. Go home, get some rest. You all still have the option of opting out of the Hazard Team, so think about it for a bit before you join."

James announced, "Officers... dismissed!"

The volunteers marched out, keeping their conversations hushed. Corgan called out, "Wikkens, O'Rourke! I need to speak to you both about your performances... in private."

As the volunteers filtered out of the holodeck, James silently took Wikkens and O'Rourke to the side.

"Wikkens, I did have high hopes for you. Everything in your profile indicates that you would be a great soldier. I know you are great with a weapon. You have all the skills you need to be on the Hazard Team. However, I am seriously doubting that you take these exercises seriously. On all three exercises you have failed spectacularly. The firing range exercise was so bad that I didn't even bother to show the rest of the volunteers the blooper reel! For god sakes, shape up."

Turning to O'Rourke, he said, "O'Rourke, you're capable of alot more than that performance."

Stunned faced, O'Rourke stammered, "Sir... I didn't even want to. T'lan convinced me to..."

"I didn't ask for your opinion!" Commander Corgan snapped, "You're the leader of your goddamn clique in my department. I thought you had what it takes to lead, but every time I try to give you responsibility, you weasel your way out of it! I give you a task and you barely go to do it! I hear so much whining coming from you that i'm tempted to toss you a brick of cheese to shut you up! This time, i'm not going to stay silent."

"Sir!" O'Rourke choked, "Permission to speak freely."

"Granted."

"Who are you to tell me what I should and should not be doing? I follow your orders. That's all you should expect from me. I don't see why people such as you and T'lan keep trying to get me into these situations. I just want to do my job, that's it! Please stop trying to force me to do something I don't want to do."

Corgan shook his head, "You're missing the point, O'Rourke. You're slacking off. You're doing the bare minimum where everyone else is working their ass off to exceed expectations. I don't just bring anyone into this department. I have to recruit high calibre officers because due to our mission, we can't afford to have lazy officers. Now start trying for a change."

"No..." O'Rourke snarled back, running for the expert, "You start trying... to get off my case!"

O'Rourke ran out of the holodeck. T'lan and Marsh halfheartedly exited, following their chastised comrade. James kept his position, watching her leave, still disatisfied with her performance.

Wikkens was still at attention.

"Dismissed, Ensign, and not a word out of you." James sighed. Wikkens saluted and left.

1571