"Take My Bio-Mine...Please"
Part of the whole "Shhh.we're hunting bio-mines" scene.

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell,
USS Galaxy, Engineer
Ensign Ry'shan Nadene Hhanna,
USS Miranda, Medical Doctor
Lieutenant, jg (Dr.) Phoebe Ivers,
USS Miranda, Science Officer
Lieutenant, jg Dr. Klaus Feinberg,
USS Galaxy, Medical Doctor.

Meanwhile aboard Vr'lu the Away Team converses on talking to plants and bio-mines.

Nara looked at the equipment. "It could work if we know what we're doing." Nara shook her head. Another cold reaction. What was with her? She sighed and tried a save, "Which I'm sure we do. Especially the creator of this equipment." She smiled at Klaus when she said that. "The issue is, we're dealing with a bio-ship." Nara wasn't much sure of bio-ships. She saw them more as plant than animal. No brain, just reacting to stimuli. "It could reject it. I'm not sure how it would react to unwelcome elements. On the other hand -- and this what we hope -- it will allow such a grafting. " Nara touched the floor. "Will you cooperate?" Nara giggled as she looked at the others, "Ever talk to plants? There's a theory saying they react more favorably if you talk to them."

Ry'shan giggled as well, caught up in Nara's enthusiasm. "Talk to plants, I have. Mother used to have plants that followed her voice."

"I have also heard they like to be sung to." Phoebe commented. "But, I seriously doubt Vr'lu would enjoy my throaty tones."

Ry'shan looked at Phoebe with concern. "Tones? Tones are what? Perhaps help you I can to remove them." She reached for her med kit.

"The sounds I'd make, when singing." Phoebe answered. She demonstrated by doing a kind of humming routine through what she thought was the musical scale. She wasn't bad on holding her key, but her voice was a bit big, or deep, for a woman. At least as far as singing went.

If there had been anyone there familiar with late 20th century music, they would have thought, immediately, of a singer called Cher, and how her voice sounded, as she got older.

"I don't think you can do anything to grant me singing talent." Phoebe said, to Ry'shan, after her impromptu demonstration. "But... thank you for offering."

"Well, at least you haven't gotten drunk and sang opera in German to a spider plant." Klaus snickered.

"Singing is not well for me," Ry'shan said to Phoebe. "Dancing is well. And fun." She looked thoughtful. "Never danced for plants before."

Nara suddenly remembered something, "Cernu said...well thought...um.something about there are ports for our equipment...and he'd rather not hard connect anything else." Nara looked at the ship, "Wonder why it would matter. If anything we maybe just bruise a 'leaf' or something."
Nara shrugged and turned to look at the ports available and reviewing the equipment again.

"Well, Dr. Fienberg..." Phoebe continued, "What items do you think you'll need set up the most- we can try and get your equipment running in order of priority."

"Well, I definitely need my Instrumentation set up. My Myriads of instruments and meters. I don't want to accidentally set something off by accident."

Ry'shan watched them as they continued with their work. At the moment, all she felt like was an outsider only because her task wouldn't be until the bio-mine was brought aboard. Then she would have to extract some samples - only if it were safe to do so without endangering the ship and crew on the mission. So she stood there until her curiosity got the better of her.

She walked over to the wall and peered intently at it. The wall was organic somehow and tentatively, she put her hand very close to it, but she stopped before touching. Then, she brought her face close to it. "Sorry am I," she whispered. "Intrusive I don't mean to be." She didn't expect an answer as she turned to face the others.

Nara looked over to Ry'shan, "I've prepared some scans. Are there any elements you expect we should look for?"

Ry'shan approached Nara, excited about the prospect of working. "Bio-mine must have genetic code. This is a start if tracing code in computer for matches, or if it is new code never seen before. Elements in DNA scan would be well to search for." She smiled and put her hand on Nara's arm. "Thank you."

Nara smiled and nodded at Ry'shan. The woman seemed excited about this mission. There seemed to be a mix of apprehension and excitement here among her mission-mates. Nara knew that she was just plain nervous. Perhaps when she had a chance to be by herself and collect her thoughts and get used to the place, she would be better. Right now, the task at hand simply covered over her anxiety. Nara stood and walked back over to the control panel where it had once again turned black. Nara wasn't sure what she thought of this. What if she touched a wrong area? Well, maybe there was a stall on it where first touch only awakened the panel and only after than were you actually touching "buttons." Nara held her breath momentarily touching it, "Wakey wakey, Vr'lu." The panel lit up and Nara started configuring her scans to search DNA. From generic to several specific kinds she knew of biotechnology. Which wasn't much aside from gel packs.

"What if there was a way we could use the DNA of the probes to our advantage?" Phoebe asked Ry'shan. "Could we synthesize some kind of virus, or something...weaken the probes on a genetic level, and make it possible for our ships to even destroy them?"

Ry'shan pursed her lips in thought. "Mmm. Possibility this is...but perhaps do tests or... simulations on commpooter. Virus may cause the big boom." She was referring to detonation.

Nara spoke not looking up from the panel, "Physical tests obviously have to wait until we actually get the mines here...that is if we get them here before they explode." Nara turned then to the others, "Which brings me to the need of a containment field. I don't know how strong it will have to be, but it would be an utmost safety precaution to build one into which to beam the mine in. If it explodes, then we should have minimal damage. If it does not, then we can scan it and get more details before anyone actually physically does anything with it." Nara turned back to the computer, "Till then, I'll see about the simulations." Nara turned and smiled to Ry'shan, "Would you assist me? I have a feeling you know more about bio-technology than I do."

"Assist you, I will," Ry'shan responded cheerfully. "Though technology is not my specialty. However, perhaps we can put both of our heads together and think as one for solution."

Klaus had been left out of the loop, working on something on the mysterious PADD he tried so hard to hide.

"Since we're dealing with biological material, a containment field based on an enhanced transporter containment might work." Phoebe offered, as she caught site of Dr. Fienberg, his eyes locked onto his PADD; "What have you there, doctor?" she asked. "Anything that would be of help?"

"Nothing important. A piece of research that was really the only original reason I learned what got me on this damn bio-ship."

As Klaus spoke she drew an isolinear chip from a small pocket on the fatigues she was wearing. She rolled it over between her fingers.

Nara had looked over hearing Phoebe ask Klaus about something and questioned Phoebe, "Speaking of anything that could be of help..." Nara nodded toward Phoebe's hand.

"Oh, some data on the bio-mines." Phoebe answered. "Some that Lieutenant Reed- a scientist aboard the Miranda- downloaded, and some simulations we ran. There are also records of a few of my own simulations. I was trying to work from an engineering principal..." here her dark eyes settled on Naranda. "I had a theory that we could create a shield bubble around both the Miranda and the Galaxy, and use that as protection from the mines." she passed the chip to Ry'shan, who was standing closest. "You might find some of the information useful."

Ry'shan took the chip and glanced at it curiously. Then, she handed it to Nara, who was closer to the port for it. "This is well," she said with a smile.

Nara nodded, "Sounds like a good theory, if we can just figure out what signal to set the shields to." Nara then searched for a port to insert the chip.

Lieutenant Commander Ethan Suder
Chief Engineer

"The Sound of Silence"

Ethan paced in his quarters. A slow relaxing pace. He felt a little tense and tired. The view out into the universe was doing little to take his minds off things. He slipped his duty jacket off and threw it on the back of his leather couch. Rolling up the sleeves, he strolled over to the replicator.

Pushing a button, his usual drink appeared. For a few seconds, he let the thick blue liquid glide down his throat. The taste was just right. The exotic Betazoid beverage wasn't as good as the real thing, which he had a couple of bottles of behind his desk. He considered opening one then thought otherwise.

He placed the glass on the side of his desk and took another glance out of his window before sitting at his desk. "Computer, time?" he called out.

"The time is twenty-one-thirty five." the Computer replied plainly. Several minutes of silence passed before he strolled into the next room.

A short time had passed when he realised he was staring at himself in the mirror. That was when he realised how quiet it was. The slightest sound seemed so loud.

He lowered his hands into the basin and allowed the water to flow over his hands. After a few seconds, he splashed some on to his face. Looking back into the mirror, he sighed and shook his head. ~Getting old~ he thought to himself.

He grasped the curve blade on the side of the basin and raised it to the lef thand side of his face. Resting it gently on the top of his cheek, he brushed downwards, shaving his slight beard off. The scratching noise that followed, like most other noises seemed loud and echoed through his ears. A few more strokes and he had finished shaving one side of his face.

He began the other side. Gliding the blade up the side o fhis neck, he paused and splashed the blade into the water. Glancing down, he saw several drops of blood fall into the water and slowly mix. Looking back up into the mirror, he raised his head and looked at his throat. A slight cut.

"You never were good with that side." a voice called out.

Ethan glanced into the side of the mirror, looking behind him. The blonde friend of his was there, watching him, a relaxed look on her face and a slight smile.

"Maybe you should do it for me." he replied. He turned around and looked at her. The light seemed to bounce off her lips. Her hair curved around her face and klingon head with such grace. As Ethan just looked at her, if at all possible, her slight smile seemed to wrinkle her nose even more. "So what brings you here?" he asked.

"You do." she replied.

"Is there a way round that?" he asked wiping his face down with a towell and moving back into the main room. "I mean what does it take? A trip to the Klingon Homeworld, if you're still there, a message, a subspace chat?" he asked.

"Any of them would probably do it." the woman replied.

"True, but then knowing my luck, you'd get a message from Casey first.
Being the great friends that you were, I'm sure you'd send him one and forget about mine. Well, maybe not forget, but it would be secondary. And let's face it, might be a bit much for you to take, you know? Old Engineer on the other side of the galaxy with a crush. Just what you need huh?"

"Could be." she replied.

"You're only saying that because there's a small part of me that would like to think that and wants to hear that."

"How is Deiran anyway?"

"Dead!" Suder shot back. "Well, that's probably not true, just wishful thinking."

"You never did like him did you?"

"Never." Ethan said, looking out of his window again. "I don't know what it was, the fact that maybe he just had a friendship with you that I would have liked myself, maybe it's because he was a snob and daddy's little boy..... or maybe because he cheated on his wife and risked his family..... There's a lot of reasons...." he trailed off.

Turning his attention to a shadow from the door leading to his bedroom, he frowned to see through the darkness.

"I take it by the look on your face you weren't expecting me?"

Ethan half smiled. The man stepped out into the light with a smile of his own. Suder slowly strolled over to the man and gave him a handshake, followed by a hug. "Lon!" he said at last.

"It has been a while hasn't it?" his older brother asked.

"Too long." Ethan replied stepping back, a hand on his brothers shoulder. "Looking good for an old man."

"I was going to say the same." Lon replied. He strolled over to Ethan's desk and examined the glass on the side. Been up to much?"

"Ah, you know," Ethan paused, "the usual. Being head of a department means plenty of work to do. Always people to impress."

"But you don't do it to impress." Lon replied with a smile.

Ethan chuckled. His brother looked the same as when he last saw him. His grey hair, slicked back, not a strand out of place. His black eyes making him look cold. Yet for Ethan, it felt familiar and relaxing.

"He never did." another voice called out.

Ethan turned with raised eyebrows. Another woman had entered the room. Her dark red hair flowing over her uniform. Her eyes sparkling in the light.
"Adrianna." he whispered.

"Hey Lieutenant, or should I call you Chief now?" she asked.

Ethan turned from his old boss, to Lon, and back to Adrianna.

"What is it?" Lon asked.

"I don't want to leave here." A lump had formed in Ethan's throat, but he swallowed passed it and stepped over to his desk. "You guys."

"You didn't leave us." the blonde woman said.

"Didn't I?" Ethan almost snapped back. "I mean, I should have been there for you guys! I should have been in the conduit!" he said pointing at his first visitor. "I should have been with you in the Delta Quadrant, I should have been in the control room!" he said pointing at Adrianna.

"Why are you upset?" Lon asked.

"Because I never got to say good bye!" Ethan almost shouted back. "You were only 65 years away!" Turning to Adrianna, he frowned. "And I said bye to you, but you shouldn't have gone away! If Price had done his freakin job, you'd be Chief somewhere by now." He strolled over to the couch where Kay was sat and knelt down next to her. "And I should have seen the EPS conduit readout, seen what was going to happen. Maybe been there with you, could have done something perhaps. But I let you down," he continued as she shook her head, "but you don't even realise it. I never got to tell any of you anything. How I feel. For my brother, my good friend, and you." his eyes sparkled in the light as a single tear strolled down his face. "I've seen a lot of people come and go, a lot fo friends, family. But you're right there. A message away..... So what is it that stops me?"

Kay got up and strolled over to Ethan's desk and picked up his glass and looked out of his window for a while.

"Because you're afraid of what's changed." Lon said resting a hand on his siblings shoulder. Ethan turned his head and looked at the back of Kay.

"Afraid that maybe she's happy, maybe with somebody. Maybe married, a family, a pet targ that she takes out every day." Adrianna added as she too strolled around the couch.

Ethan rubbed his cheeks, wiping away the tears. Standing up, he looked at the people around him. "And if she's not, what would I expect, her to spend a happy life with me? She doesn't even know me. How could she? Move back to the Galaxy, how about I move into Klingon space and set up a home on their homeworld? Seems a bit of a drastic commitment."

For a while, everyone remained silent. Ethan looked at everyone. Their calm expressions so relaxing. His shoulders slumped. He stepped back and sat on the back of his couch, facing Kay who remained staring out at the windows.

Slowly, she turned around. He watched intently as she did so, still holding the glass.

She looked at the floor for a while and then met Ethan's gaze. "You're going to have to make a choice soon."

"I know...." he whispered.

"And you know what will happen...." as she spoke, the glass slipped from her fingers and slowly tumbled to the floor. "I...." Ethan's eyes followed the glass down, then jumped back up to hers, "Will..." she managed to say until the glass shattered on the floor.

Ethan jumped and almost fell out of his chair. His elbow had slipped from the arm of his chair. He quickly looked around his dark quarters, but saw no one. He stood up and took two steps to the end of his desk and knelt down, examining the broken glass. He hadn't knocked it, so what had caused it to fall?

He stood up and turned around, rubbing his face as he did so. Noticing that he hadn't shaved, he sighed and raised his hands, resting on the window.
For a long time, his stare remained locked on something so distant, he wasn't sure what he was looking at. His shoulders slumped as he lowered his head, and closed his eyes. "Computer.... time?" he asked.

Promptly, the computer replied, "The time is twenty-one-thirty-nine."

Suder's head raised slightly and he slowly opened his tired eyes and looked out once again at the darkness.

"The Click"
Captain Elaithin Jii
Commander Jaal Jaxom
Commander Felicia Khatroweena

Jii wasn't surprised as he exited his borrowed starfighter that Cat had enacted quarantine protocols for the diplomatic team and the embassy staff. Force fields directed the evacuees from the Breen embassy to a single bio-airlock, where they were quickly cleared of contagion.

The Captain was the first through, and he found Cat and Jaal waiting for him. He sized up the Caitian's body language, and knew it would be no use to argue with her that he was needed on the bridge. "Allright, Cat. I'm not going to argue, but let's make this quick?"

"Yes Captain. Thank you." Cat already had the Medical Peripheral in her hand and was slowly scanning the captain. She watched the readouts on the Tricorder, there was nothing that would keep him from his duties.

Curiously, he found himself wondering why Brex wasn't there. Naturally, it was his first question, and he directed it at his second officer. "Where's Commander Brex?"

Cat looked at Jaal for a few seconds who returned the look, both not sure how to answer the captain's question and then returned her attention back to her scanning.

Jaal let out a small sigh. Guessing it was up to him as the ranking officer on board the Trill explained, "Brex got hurt during the ambush above Breen... bad. He's ... in a coma right now." 'Along with some others,' the second officer thought without mentioning it out loud.

Elaithin's eyebrows drew together at that, and he let loose a sigh. He felt a lump grow in his throat, but pushed it aside. Brex was a good man - he deserved better than a coma - but then, didn't anyone? "I think you'd best bring me up full speed, Jaal."

Jaal swallowed. After letting out another small sigh he started. "Okay. We got ambushed by a small T'Kith'Kin and Hydran force. We fought'em back but not without some serious damage and injuries. Brex you know about, Taalis and Gywin are also unavailable at the moment." His voice broke slightly at the mention of his wife's name. He persevered and continued his report.

Jii turned his head at Cat's direction as the Doctor instructed him too, and he felt sympathy for the Trill. "I'm sorry." he said softly, laying a hand on Jaxom's shoulder.

Jaal went on about the status of the ship, the crew, Lieutenant K'rn's and Lieutenant Ka'ranin's missions to grab a mine or two, and the fighters and Hazard Teams on patrol looking for their current target. He finished with, "There's been a lot of chatter between us and the Galaxy's staff about the possibility of a conspiracy between Breen, Hydrans, and T'Kith'Kin. If you watch a replay of the battle a fairly strong case can be made."

Flicking the tricorder shut, "I want you to see me before the week is out Jii," Cat interrupted. "You're ok, but I want to make sure we don't have problems with delayed conditions."

"I understand. Prophets willing, that'll be one of our biggest concerns. It's sounding otherwise, however."

"Let's hope you're right, Jii." Cat replied quietly. Her sickbay had been quite busy enough lately.

"Jaal, I think you may be right. Thot Gor was very quick to throw his little coup as soon as everyone was distracted by the battle in orbit, and I still think the Hydrans and the T'Kith'Kin gave up far too easily. Were we able to make any contact with them at all?" the Captain asked, starting to pace as he started trying to put the pieces all together.

"Then we were right in the first place. This trip was a setup." the Trill offered, feeling a certain amount of vindication.

"I think the entire thing was staged. I was watching the battle from the surface, and the actions of the ships that were destroyed were very odd." He said, and his and Jaal's eyes met as they both came to the same conclusion.

"As though the ships were remote controlled." Jaal muttered. "Should have thought about it sooner."

"We didn't have all the pieces then, Jaal. We've been set up here form the very beginning. Gor manipulated Governor Born into inviting the Federation here, even specifically requesting our two ships. The T'Kith'Kin definitely have a grudge against this ship. Captain M'Kantu and I were speaking back on Starbase 212 about how many of their missions have had a silent hand pulling the strings behind them. He thought it might have been Admiral Hoth and his hawks - but what if it was someone else?"

"Like the Breen?" Cat asked, her ears flicking and turning inwards slightly as all three were trying to put everything together, her normally swaying tail stayed still.

"No." Jii said, absently rubbing his several-day old stubble. "No - it doesn't quite fit. The Breen were the go-betweens. It had to have been the Hydrans. They must have been setting things up for years, trying to get the Federation exactly where they want it. This must have been the next stage of their plan - the capture of two premiere Federation starships. It all fits. Throwing the Diplomatic and Intelligence services off the scent by involving the Breen. Dangling the carrot of a peace treaty to get the Federation to send whatever ships they requested. The attack in orbit - to gain some amount of trust - and Gor's price for his participation - a diversion for his coup. Most importantly, the mine's - they're the key to the whole thing. With subspace blocked around Breen space, we can't get out - and more importantly, we can't talk to anyone."

"There's all sorts of secrets in our ship's computers, and if they wanted, they could use our ships as Trojan Horses." the Ops Manager observed, even as all three officers started to realize the full scope of the events they were now caught up in.

And the final click came, and Jii felt a horrible feeling of recognition come over him, even as he knew he was right as Cat spoke the words - "October First was the start. All of those attacks! The assault on Starbase One, the bombing and destruction of the Vulcan Science Academy, the plague in New Athens on Alpha Centauri. No one believed that it was concidence, but no-one could work out who or why."

"Captain," Jaal started. "I think we've found ourselves right in the first act of an invasion."

"That's an opening night I could do without," added Cat.

Elaithin muttered several unflattering curses under his breath in Bajoran. "I think you're right." he said, and rubbed his nose for a moment. "I need to talk to M'Kantu. Jaal, get the ship ready for a fight. Cat, get all sickbay's fully staffed and prepped. Everything's going to depend on the Hazard Team knocking out that mine field as quickly as possible, and picking up some kind of evidence from whatever installation the Hydran and T'Kith'Kin's have. There has to be a fleet around here somewhere, and we're going to have to distract them while Darion and Dallas do their jobs. It's going to be rough. There's only one thing up our sleeve that our enemies haven't taken into account."

"What's that, sir?" Jaal asked, eyebrows knitting together.

"The 12th Fleet. We've certainly missed the check-in by now, and the moment that field comes down, they'll be high-tailing it to our current position. Our two ships are going to try to take on an invasion fleet - but we don't have to win. We just have to keep ourselves alive."

"Let's hope the calvary arrives in time," sighed Cat.

Jii caught their eyes as the turbolift doors swished shut around him and he headed for the bridge. "Let's hope."

"Called to shuttlebay"
by Koen as James A. Brooke

He had just finished with Circ and Miranda, and he was trying to get some sort of sense out of the readings he had from the little girl, when Cat's call came in. "You stay here," Brooke said to another doctor. Someone had to stay here, and while Brooke was technically not alpha shift, but beta, no-one but Cat could prohibit him to go to the shuttlebay, and she was there already. His wife would be coming back, and no-one would keep him away from that bay. So he went, and a doctor from alpha shift stayed in sickbay.

As he arrived, after a turbolift ride that seemed to last forever, he saw that Cat had started setting up quarantaine fields. So he helped her, while looking at the exterior doors about every five seconds. Finally they retracted to allow the shuttlecraft to pass through, and Brooke wondered how Shinta was doing.

Quite well, it seemed a minute later, as he saw her sitting at the controls of one of the shuttles. He sighed. It had gone better then he expected. How wrong he was, he wouldn't know untill she stepped of the shuttle.

"Too Damn Big"

Ensign Sh'laran
Flight Control Officer, USS Galaxy

Despite the obvious agitation he was showing, Sh'laran felt like he was doing remarkably well under the pressure. Twenty-fourth century technology still baffled him (he still had difficulty telling the differance between an isolinear chip and an isodyne relay), and the tools had essentially the same problem; one was little differant from another. Life was simpler with a plain, old-fashioned screwdriver and a hammer.
The hammer had worked wonders in all societies for millenia, so why in the hell did someone see fit to change it?

What it really came down to, however, was just one detail; deflector control was, quite simply, too damn big.

Mind you, he felt the same way about his quarters. For that matter, he felt the same about every part of the Galaxy. Things seemed so impersonal onboard a ship with over a thousand souls. One could walk the corridors all day and never see the same individual twice, much less anyone that he knew. Ont the old NX's it was easy; he recognized all eighty individuals by sight. Here, he wasn't even sure he could remember the names of the members within his own department, and it was one of the smallest.

Glaring at one of the crewman on the catwalk above him, he wondered how in the hell anyone could be expected to aid in the repair of a deflector that, on its own, was bigger than the entire NX-07. Somehow, the enlisted personnel were managing it, crawling about the area rapidly, attempting to keep the ship's navigational sensors and deflector subsystems online.

Smiling, Sh'laran shook his head; one thing never changed. Enlisted personnel still did all the work necessary, without the interferance of some officer. Smirking, the Andorian turned out of the large room and headed back to the bridge. There was little he could do to help, and it would be far better for him to return to the upper decks, where he might, at least, be able to look like he was doing some good.

"Grim Realities"
Captain Elaithin Jii
Commander K. Jordan Elaithin

As was becoming usual, Jordan was feeling rather shitty. Her blood sugar was low and her throat was tight, as was most of her chest and her head felt... odd was the only term serving to explain it. She'd received the notice that the away team had safely returned to the ship, which was both surprising and not. With a hand trailing along the wall, she moved toward the air lock where her husband and the others were being held -- just in case. Just in case what, exactly? She didn't really understand.

But they were already gone. She sighed. She just wanted to pass out somewhere. "Computer -- location Elaithin Jii."

"Captain Elaithin Jii is on the bridge."

"Right. Of course he is."

She muttered to herself as she leaned against the wall a minute and then turned, heading back out and into the turbolift. She then stepped out onto the bridge, looked around, and mentally sighed again. Ready room. The man knew how to move, that was for sure. But hell, at least she could sit easier in the ready room.

"Hey buddy, thanks for the 'yo wife, I'm doin pretty well, 'how 'bout you' heads up."

Jii had just flopped himself down on the couch with a plate of hasperat and a steaming raktajino. He hadn't eaten in days - what the Breen had supplied them really couldn't be considered food. He needed to refresh himself for a few minutes before getting on the horn with M'Kantu. The implications from his conversation with Jaal and Cat were still staggering through his mind. "Jordan. I was just about to call you." He'd removed his torn uniform jacket and tunic, and sat wearing only his undershirt and slacks. It was oddly comfortable, actually, though the fact that he hadn't given Cat enough time to heal his various cuts and bruisings was imminently obvious.

She sighed and, hand still along the wall. She smiled slightly at him as she bent and opened the drawer and took out the small medical kit there.
She then sat beside him and calibrated the regenerator. "It's fine really, didn't exactly expect you to, you never do. Come closer, let me take care of some of those bruises."

"I'm fine, really." he replied "I just need to get something to eat, then I've got to talk to M'Kantu." he started, then looked at his wife for a moment. "He'll have to wait, I'm guessing. Did you want to fight about whatever's bugging you now, or save it for later?"

"Nothing's bothering me," she said, her voice tired and flat, "and I definitely don't want to fight. I just want to fix you up, you look awful, it's hard for me to look at."

He closed his eyes a moment, and muttered a rather unflattering Bajoran word at himself. "I'm sorry. I wanted to get cleaned up before I saw you."

Jordan only shrugged as she managed to get everything working and she slid the healing beam over his chest and arms slowly, her hand smoothing over his skin, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying. "I wish this didn't happen to you," she whispered softly, not really meaning for him to hear it, but really unable to stop from thinking out loud. "Ever happen to you. Before. This time. Anytime. I hate it. It hurts."

"Not terribly fond myself" he said fliply.

"No, can't imagine you would be," Jordan murmured, clicking off the regenerator. She looked at him carefully, eyes focused on his. "I worry about you more every time it happens" She brushed a piece of hair from his forehead and smiled slightly.

He had to laugh a little at that. "It was worth it this time." he said. "Answered more than a few questions. Amazed you haven't asked me how it happened, yet."

She moved and cuddled against him, closing her eyes a minute coasting on the bizarre dizziness. "I don't know I want to know."

"Odd trait for an Intelligence officer."

"Maybe," she said, "but perhaps a typical trait in a wife?" she questioned. "I'll read about the stuff I need to know in some sort of formal, removed, impersonalized report through Starfleet intelligence in a few days. And maybe that's all I need. If you need to talk about... it. I'll listen, hon, you know I will, but... I don't know I want to know anything about it right now."

"I'll just say that Thot Gor and I had some philosophical differences then. " Jii replied. "And that the last time I saw him, he had a phaser set to overload sitting on his chest." Jii tapped his chin absently a moment. "You know, I think I need to mention to Darren that Kreighoff deserves a medal for what he did down there. He's a good man."

"Some wonder," she murmured. "If he is a man. But I'm sure he was... amazing. I'm sure you were too. Did you wish I was there? Like I told you you would?"

"No." he replied, laying a pointed hand on her abdomen, and the unborn twins laying inside. "I'm rather glad you weren't. I know you weren't any safer on the ship, but call me selfish... I'm glad you weren't there."

"I am too," she whispered, resting a hand over his before interlacing their fingers. She lifted her head and opened her eyes and traced his face with her other hand as a tear dropped from her eyes; she wiped it away quickly and stood, squeezing his hand that she still held. "You just keep coming back to me," she said, smiling slightly. "I knew you would. And you better keep doing it."

"I promised you on our honeymoon that I always would" Jii replied, offering a bit of that old impish smile - the one that had a great deal to do with his winning of her heart. "Haven't broken it yet, now have I?"

"No, you haven't," she said.

"On to business, then." he finally said, after they'd enjoyed a moment of silence together. "Cat, Jaal and I came to some rather alarming conclusions."

"Oh?"

Quickly he sketched out what the pooling together of information had resulted in, from the Breen's role in luring Miranda and Galaxy here, to Miranda's own repeated conflicts with the T'Kith'Kin, and Galaxy's apparently similar conditions with the Breen.

He described out the mine was a trap for their vessels, which were likely intended to be captured for their strategic value, and then to be used as decoys in, most likely, a three-pronged invasion of the Federation. Finally, he came to their most critical discovery - the revelation that had eluded the Federation for a year or more, that the Hydrans and T'Kith'Kin were most likely the culprits behind the horrible terrorist attacks of October 1st, 2380.

"It's the only thing that makes any sense. It's why we haven't found anything that points us towards the parties responsible - we were looking in the wrong damned place." She frowned, her forehead creased. "Well, that makes a tremendous amount of sense."

"Not to mention that everything they've done has been directed at capturing us. Some of the things Gor said led me to think they want our ships for more than our computer cores."

"Evidently. But what are you thinking? Other reasons why, anyway?"

"I don't know." he replied in frustration. "It's almost like there's something we still don't know. I'm hoping the Hazard Teams can retrieve that information when they run their covert op on the base." Checking the chronometer, he frowned again. "I've got to talk to M'Kantu. If the timetable Jaal gave me is any indication, we don't have long until the Hazards make their assault, and we still have to draw the invasion fleet away from the base. And we don't even know where they are yet."

"Okay. Well. I'm going to go and find Jerri. Maybe I can help her, or something."

"Allright. Tell the other senior officers to be on the bridge in an hour. We've got some work to do. She nodded, and then gave an echoing frown. "Not the briefing lounge?"

"The briefing lounge is for discussion. I'll be issuing orders. Right now, the Miranda and the Galaxy are all that stand between the Federation and an open war that could devastate two quadrants." he said grimly. "We don't have time for discussion."

"I couldn't agree more," she said. "But you know my feelings about staff meetings. I'll let Jerri and everyone know."

"Good." Elaithin replied, slipping his uniform jacket back on and sitting down behind his desk. It was time for him to call M'Kantu - for a council of War.

"Field of Deception"

Major Wes 'Phoenix' Hammond,
Rogue Squadron CO/Rogue 1

Flight Officer Jasmine 'Jazz' Heloi,
Vanguard Squadron XO/Vanguard 5

Flight Officer Pikarr 'Hasperat' Ekrayn, Flight Officer/Rogue 2

Sub-Ehdaq Var'Dyrr,
Elite T'Kith'Kin Triquadrant Leader

unauthorized mention of...

Pilot Tyten 'Blue'
Flight Officer/Vanguard 6

****

Deep Space,
Havras System,
Breen Sector

Wes brought his fighter in a smooth, banking turn around a rapidly spinning asteroid roughly the size of the state of Texas, on Earth. Wes hated asteroid fields. They were perfect. Just perfect. Perfect for an ambush, with enemy ships powering up all around them and swooping in with overwhelming numbers.
Perfect to conceal ships and bases that shouldn't be found.

Which was why Wes had a deep suspicion that they would find the Hydran and T'Kith'Kin's main force in the Havras System, which was largely just that, an asteroid field. The EM radiation that was given off by the majority of the asteroids, as well as the space taken up on sensors by the field itself, made it the perfect hiding place for their enemies.

As he rounded the far side of the asteroid, Rogue 2 tucked in neatly behind him. So far he'd been impressed by Pikarr Ekrayn. She'd managed to get through the last fight without too much help from her comrades, which was important, since he'd been on the Breen cruiser during that battle. For the amount of terror the simulators reported on her biological readouts, she was a fine pilot.

"Phoenix to Hasperat. How many more sectors?" Wes asked. He'd put the mousy Bajoran girl in charge of keeping track while his computer did other things, like mapping the asteroid field. So far they found a disabled freighter, some unidentifiable space debris, a dead cow, and an abandoned asteroid base. The field had obviously seen some use.

"67, Birdbrain," the retorted. Oh how she loathed that callsign. Of course, he'd been there when the Starhawks had decided to start calling her that. At the time, he'd stuck with her self chosen 'Spirit'. Now he was more inclined to call her Hasperat as a private joke. It had stuck with the rest of the squadron, though. He'd apologized, and she'd accepted, but she wasn't above her own verbal sniping."I just told you that."

"So you did," he said, recalling that he'd asked her before they'd split up. I must be getting tired, he reasoned. After all, it had been something like 113 sectors already. Monotonous didn't even begin to cover it. He added recon to the list of things he didn't like, so it could keep asteroid fields company.

"You're slipping, Phoenix," she said wryly, though she knew that Hammond was probably just teasing her.

Wes laughed in response, "Sure I am. You never had it to begin with. Follow me through this." He twisted the fighter upside down and through an asteroid's hollow interior. Pikarr followed, engines hot, on his tail.

"We're coming up on Vanguard Squadron's wingpair," Ekrayn said as she brought her fighter back into line behind Hammond again.

Wes thumbed the 'click' button his comm, sending a noise that meant a confirmation, then switched over to channel 1. "Phoenix to Jazz, find anything yet?"

****

Rocks, and more rocks. Rocks to her left, rocks to her right, rocks in front, and rocks behind. It was a classic set up of rocks, rocks, rocks...and oh, look, more rocks. Well, to be scientifically accurate, they were asteroids of the common stony-iron type, but...she was sticking to calling them rocks. They made EM shadows that were playing hell with her instruments - to boost the gain, she had to hook together both her own and Tyten's sensors. She just hoped that her sensor readouts were not lighting up their enemies' viewscreens like so many 'christmas lights' as one of her old instructors used to say.

"If you call rocks 'something.'" Jasmine replied as she nosed her fighter over the edge of a particularly large asteroid that looked like something straight out of the mind of a classic horror director. Now all that was needed was some suspense music as a soundtrack and wallah. She was back in the movies. "There's something in these asteroids that are playing hell with sensor readings."

"Yeah. Hasperat and I had to rig our sensors together. She's monitoring them," Wes said as Pikarr sent him a sensor update.

"Great place to hide an armada," Jazz commented as the latest sensor shadow seemed to dissipate, "You could loose entire fleets in here with none the wiser."

"Yeah. We're going to have to continue the visual search for the other 67 sections," Wes frowned, "Maybe the Corps of Engineers should try to find a way to use the scrambling effect in hull plating."

"I think they already are on some of the newer starships...at least I seem to remember hearing about it somewhere. Something about it being 'stealthier than stealth.' But the details are classified. Well, from my recollections, you're on almost the opposite side of the field from us. We can probably coincide our search pattern to meet up somewhere near the middle section. Then we can high tail it out of here and report back."

"Sound like a plan. Take sections one through thirty-four. We'll take thirty-five to sixty-seven. I'll see you in the center," he said, though if Jasmine flew the way she normally did, her newer Banzai would probably outpace his Dominion War Era Rogue. Being commissioned more recently had its advantages for a squadron. Wes and Anton had long ago decided that the Rogues were crap.

"Roger," Jasmine replied, vaguely wishing she could talk to him mentally. However between the distance and not being sure exactly where they *were* that option was definitely out. "Tyten," she keyed her ship-to-ship coms, "You heard the good Major. Let's get this ball rolling." As one, the two Banzai fighters angled deeper into the asteroid field attempting to make certain they tried to scan over the next asteroid each time they passed one.

****

Thirty minutes later and Wes Hammond was certain they were closing in on something. They were about to meet up with Heloi and Tyten to search the middle nine sections. He was just about certain that they were closing in on the enemy fleet. Ekrayn had been reporting more and more potential contacts.

As Wes ducked under another asteroid, the less experienced pilots voice suddenly filled his cockpit. "Hasperat to Phoenix, I have multiple contacts bearing 12 point 2 mark 11. Attempting visual confirmation..."

Wes' eyes widened as the asteroid passed from in front of him, "There's nothing to confirm, Hasperat..." Her fighter tucked in behind him, and he could envision her staring up at the enemy fleet arrayed before them, shaking as she had a tendency to do when terrified.

Before them were an array of approximately sixty Hydran and T'Kith'Kin capital ships, swarming with smaller escorts and fighters. "Begin recording, and follow me." Hammond banked away immediately and turned back into the asteroid, letting the computer take imagery of the ships for further identification efforts.

"Phoenix to Jazz, form up for the hightailing efforts. If you haven't seen them yet, they're at 12 point 2 mark 11, grid 41," he brought the fighter low under another rock.

And there they were.

It had been an ambush. He wasn't sure how long the T'Kith'Kin had been tracking him, but a squadron of Biofighters were waiting for them when he came up again. They'd been powered down what was now the near side of some rocks they'd passed, their mass hidden by the EM scramble.

Jerking the stick to one side, he took evasive action by instinct, "Phoenix to Group, am being engaged by multiple enemy fighter craft. Will attempt to lead them away from you. Scatter and get back to the Task Force. One of us has to report the location of the enemy fleet."

He watched Pikarr pull away from him, a flight of enemy starfighters on her six. Swearing under his breath, he concentrated on his surroundings, engaging the thrusters and taking himself deeper into the belt. The purple biofighters, lead by a lone red one, for the most part followed.

Jasmine's fighter sped at a reckless pace through the asteroid field with Tyten glued to her wing. After hearing Wes' call, she knew that they needed to get out, and get out now. The shear mass of starships hidden within the field as revealed by her now working scanners was astonishing, not to mention worrying. That many ships...this entire ploy...she gunned her fighter up a notch in speed as she sped around asteroids and away from the enemy.

Wes and his wingman were just ahead and to the right of them, obviously followed by enemy fighters. "Jazz to Phoenix, I see you've picked up a few stragglers. You've got six bogies on your tail. Blue and I can take care of a few of them. These Banzai's have a greater advantage in speed, so get a head start."

"You're clear to engage, and much appreciated, Jazz," he said, spinning his fighter again as he lead six of the biofighters, in a mad dash through the asteroid field, away from Ekrayn, who had shifted virtually all of her power to engines and was pushing for deep space.

"Roger that," Jasmine replied through clenched teeth as she led one of the enemy fighters on a roller coaster ride that stretched the inertial dampers to their maximum rated potential. Ripping out of a maximum g dive, she pulled her fighter into a tight arc over the "top" of the enemy fighter. This left her with a clear shot straight up his 'exhaust ports.' "Vanguard Five, fox two." A bright bulb of light sped from the torpedo port on her right wing. The torpedo aimed straight for the T'Kith'Kin fighter's fragile nacelles. A few moments later, Jasmine's fighter sailed through a the exploding remnants of the other ship.

****

Wes brought his fighter screaming through a climb that pushed the limits of his rickety old Rogue IV. Wes knew the limitations of his fighter, and used them to his advantage. As soon as he hit the point in his climb when the Rogue would reject it, he allowed the slight dip in the nose to send him into a spinning turn behind an asteroid. One of the T'Kith'Kin pilots overreacted and his biofighter exploded in a ring of fire that was rapidly extinguished by the vacuum of space. His left nacelle had caught the asteroid as he overcompensated.

Not allowing himself a moment to savor the victory, Wes immediately changed directions. Purple darts of supercharged bioplasma rippled space behind him as he pushed the aging fightercraft through another doughnut-hole asteroid, dodging side to side to avoid ridges in the vaguely oblong iron-filled rock. Two of the T'Kith'Kin fighters decided to follow him in while a third moved to the far end of the asteroid, faster than Wes could manage while maneuvering.

Pulling up ever so slightly to avoid a stalagmite just a meter too tall, Wes cruised out the far side. The pursuit was not so lucky, as the first failed to notice the rock formation and vaporized himself, and the second, whose light dampeners were overwhelmed by the proximity and intensity of his compatriot's demise, slammed into the far wall, missing the exit by a mere meter.

Unfortunately, Wes wasn't as out of the fire as he'd hoped. As he exited the far side of the asteroid, two more fighters rushed in from the far side, bracketing his fighter with their weapons while a third attempted to get a torpedo lock.

Accepting the fire, Wes threw his Rogue into a dive. The whine of his shields as they took hits filled his cockpit, but they held and he broke the lock. "Phoenix to Jazz, I have three on my six. I'll keep them there if you'll relieve me of them."

"And a nice six it is," Jasmine teased, "Don't worry, we'll get them off your tail."

"Much appreciated, sweetheart," Wes replied, maneuvering around another series of asteroids, the three fighters in pursuit.

Straightening his fighter out, he allowed the remaining trio of purple fighters to follow him, keeping his evasion just good enough to outdo their weapons capabilities, but not so good that they'd be moving around too much.

Approximately five long minutes later, all that was left of the three enemy fighters was a slowly expanding cloud of particles. "Jazz to Phoenix, let's get the hell out of here." She repeated an oft used line in starfleet history as she keyed up her fighter's engines towards the exit of the asteroid field.

"Absolutely," Wes said, bringing his fighter around. Looking down, he checked the sensors for Ekrayn and was satisfied to see her battered fighter crossing the warp threshold. ~Good girl,~ he thought. She'd followed her orders, so even if he and Jasmine were ambushed again, the Miranda and Galaxy would be warned.

It took an excruciating fifteen minutes to leave the asteroid belt at full impulse, jumping at every sensor ghost that could be an enemy fighter. Eventually though, they cleared the field. Wes breathed a sigh of relief.

"Phoenix to group. So much for the T'Kith'Kin technological superiority. Nothing tops good training. Warp on my mark," he said, setting the craft to auto-align itself for warp.

Suddenly, red bioplasma beams split space near his fighter, and he only avoided destruction be unlocking the computer and rolling to the side. The red biofighter, which Wes could only assume was the enemy group's leader, flashed past his cockpit canopy. His mind raced and he came to a decision, "Continue exit pattern, Jazz."

"But.."

"Don't. I'll distract him while you two get out of here. It shouldn't take me long," he said, choking back on the stick to force the Rogue IV into a long, sweeping climb. The T'Kith'Kin followed him through it, and Wes cut to one side just as his enemy fired, again avoiding the red bioplasma weapon. Behind him, Jasmine and Tyten leapt to warp. It wasn't a decision he'd wanted to make, but he had a responsibility to get them out.

[You should have run when you had the chance, Starfleet,] a voice crackled over his communications, roughly translated from T'Kith'Kin. The enemy was broadcasting on an open channel. Only the T'Kith'Kin leader would have the balls... or whatever made for balls in their physiology. Wes ignored it. He didn't need the distraction.

Formulating a plan while you're being shot at isn't an easy thing to do. Luckily, Wes Hammond had been shot at a lot over the years, so it wasn't anything new. It didn't take long for him to make a decision.

Leveling off, Wes dropped his countermeasures, setting them to detonate immediately. The result was a cloud of red EM dust, temporarily blinding the T'Kith'Kin leader. Wes followed up by dropping a couple of unpowered torpedoes in his wake. Hopefully the enemy fighter would burst through the cloud and slam into the torpedoes.

The T'Kith'Kin wasn't fooled so easily. His opponent did choose to burst through the cloud instead of swinging around it, but was ready for the torpedoes to be there, swinging sharply to the right to avoid them. Wes remotely detonated the warheads, just in case he could gain an advantage, and managed to singe his enemies shields.

However, the T'Kith'Kin had been forced to cease his relentless pursuit, and that allowed Wes the opening he needed. Ignoring the red biofighter, Hammond switched over to autopilot again and leveled out for warp.

His enemy was good, and the red biofighter whipped around to fire at him again. The shots were hurried and missed, barely dimming his shields. As the stars elongated into warplines, Wes grinned. He'd beaten the odds again, and the Miranda and Galaxy had been warned.

Behind him, Var'dyrr of the T'Kith'Kin Hive turned his fighter back to the fleet, seething with rage.

"Agenda"

Ensign Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

In the end, much like the beginning, it was always the agenda.

Sometimes, I chase it. Sometimes, it chases me.

Personally, I don't see why people need agendas. In this modern era, a Federation citizen can live his life and survive without pursuing anything. Becoming a manager or a leader, earning degrees, gaining fame, finding the 'right one' to marry, taking revenge of some sort… all these are very nice agendas, but please, you can live a fine life without doing those.

Some of these might earn you, say, more possessions or supposedly make you happier, but you can get along pretty well without wasting energy on those.

Sounds strange when an ambitious man like me say that, doesn't it?

Wish my case was that simple.

At any rate, it was the agenda which brought me to the Galaxy, for what may become the final year of my life.

****

So far, Saul was very satisfied with his new post. Not long after he boarded the ship, they found themselves involved in battle, following by a frenzy in the Intelligence department trying to grasp and comprehend all the events leading to and from the battle.

There were hostages, there were Breen, there was a fair amount of pretty girls at Ten-Foreword – Saul definitely had no complaints so far.

He found himself working on some data with a Lieutenant Remur from Tactical. She was a very hard-working person and left Saul with very little time to rest – which was OK, this was the work style he was most accustomed to.

However, when she was summoned by the Executive Officer who was just paying a visit to the Intelligence department, Saul was quite glad to take a momentary break. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing the pile of PADDs in front of him. It reminded him of different pile of PADDs elsewhere.

****

Lieutenant Commander Stom was a 'Desk leader' at Starfleet Intelligence. After fifteen years of service, he was quite satisfied with the position he was in. He had the respect of his fellow middle-ranking Intelligence officers, an interesting role in Starfleet's effort to form a good 'Intel Picture' of the universe, and a crew which he enjoyed working with, most of them hand-picked by him.

Ironically, the most talented of the 'desk members' was both the youngest and the most troublesome. Stom gazed at the pile of PADDs on his desk, wondering if he was doing the right thing when Mr. Bental asked permission to come inside.

"Come in, Saul."

The Ensign marched in, sitting on the blue chair across the table. "Ya?"

"I'm having trouble with the Driznok situation. I wanted your point of view." Said Stom. With a gesture of his hand the lights was darkened and a holographic image appeared. "This is a Timtumation frigate."

"I know already – twenty of them were stolen on their maiden voyage, they just left the Driznok's primary shipyard, and poof – hijacked, skeleton crews being left in escape pods." Saul interrupted. "Not that rare on the Outlands."

"And yet, I have a report here saying that two of these Frigates attacked a merchant ship belonging to another species. All this occurred not too far from our Outposts on the Outlands. Starfleet has better things to do than handling another case of piracy."

"I don't think the Federation will be affected if the Driznok know what's good for them."

"Oh?" Stom rested his chin on his hands, watching Saul with anticipation. The young Intel officer was always full of surprises.

"Staging an operation such as the kidnapping twenty armed ships requires lots of information, even if the execution isn't very hard once you know what's going to happen." Saul began. "We intercepted a message from the Security sub-minister of the Driznok to a ship belonging to the Orion Cirentus-Ta cartel. Of course, it was encrypted using a dictionary which we do not have and isn't important enough to start pulling specialists to decrypt it, but the fact is there's a message."

"So you think that the Orion cartel bribed a Driznok official, and are now trying to use the stolen ships to expand their operation?"

"Au contraire, however you say that in French." Saul dismissed the idea, "Although this would be my second assessment if the first one fails."

"And the first one is?"

"How good is your knowledge about Earth's history?"

Stom, being a Bolian, frowned. "I know you guys were pretty barbaric until the Vulcans came and threw you to space. Then, you did one thing right and helped establish the UFP."

Saul ignored the insult aimed at his entire race. "Shortly after the continent of America was settled, piracy in the 'new Oceans' became a common thing. Privateers sailed the seas, and bearded buccaneers looted and terrorized entire regions of the new world."

"I can believe that." Stom commented.

"Would it interest you to know that some of these pirates were sponsored by some of the colonial superpowers of that era, and were ordered to raid freely the colonies of those superpowers' enemies and weaken them? Without having any apparent relation to the sponsoring nation of course."

Stom's eyes lit. "So the fleet wasn't kidnapped, it was practically given to the Orions in order to commit raids on the Driznok's neighbors, weakening them without staining the Dirznok's reputation."

"And the Driznok people are not the kind of people to make a fuss about some kidnapped military ships, most of them are more interested about other things. So that would be my first assessment. Would you like me to file a report?"

Stom sighed. "You won't have time for that. I'll do it."

It was Saul's turn to be surprised, but there wasn't the slightest shift of his expression.

"Do you know what the difference between strategy and tactics is?"

Saul replied. "Tactics – you have ten ships, the enemy has ten ships, there's a battle, you have to win with minimum losses. Strategy – one level above, the grand scheme which eventually leads to separate tactical encounters, or avoids them. Planning, plotting, managing resources and forces, diplomacy, etcetera."

"Here at Starfleet Intelligence HQ, you're sitting on the bottleneck of Starfleet Strategy. Even a green ensign like you can find himself influencing the UFP's strategy toward, say, the Driznok."

Saul nodded. It wasn't new to him.

"On a Starship, however, your role is purely Tactical. You either collect data or analyze the processed data provided by Starfleet Intelligence – whose core is surrounding us right now. I—"

Saul bolted upwards, grinning. "You finally approved my request to be transferred to a ship. You're numero uno Stom, mispar ehad!"

"Yes. I can find a hundred good men who would love to take your position, all very talented and motivated. Why would I keep someone who constantly asks to be reassigned to an inferior role?"

Saul shrugged, the broad grin still present.

"Explain to me one thing." Stom continued. "Why?"

"Because you have to taste everything life has to offer. I am going to have about fifty years of this, I reckon." Saul gestured at the office around them, with all of his maps, panels and cabinets. "I don't care delaying my career for a little longer in order to try ship life."

"But now?"

"Tell me the truth, Stom. If you wanted a transfer to a Starship now, what would happen?"

Stom knew where this was leading. "It would've been declined; I'm too valuable where I am."

"Too experienced. It would be a waste to send you to space at this stage." Saul added. "See? Now is the best time for me to ask for a post on board a Starship. I'm not going to get another chance latter."

Stom gave up, and accepted the fact that he was going to search a replacement for Bental.

"There are several starships which need personnel.", he said, gesturing at the PADDs on his desk. Each one of them contained information about a potential posting. "You can take them and sl—"

"I'll take the Galaxy." Saul said sharply.

"Huh?"

"It's there, right?" he pointed at the PADDs. "The USS Galaxy. They have an opening in Intelligence. I checked on my own which ships need personnel."

"Well, you got it. I'll let Lieutenant Dobryn know she has a new subordinate and handle all necessary arrangements." Stom concluded, handing the PADD to Saul. "Dismissed."

After the Ensign had left, Stom picked up one of the PADDs. It was the latest. It contained the USS Pavishel's opening for a new Chief of Intelligence. It was a small ship, with a department of three people, so Saul would've been a good candidate with his experience. Had he taken the job, he would've been promoted to Lieutenant J.G. and given a department head's position.

Was Saul aware of that option?

And if so, why didn't he take this great opportunity with both hands?

Stom decided not to chase Saul and ask him about it. If they boy gave it up knowingly, he had his reasons. And if not – well, by this age he should've known not to choose before all options are revealed, and losing this attractive post should be a fair tuition fee once he find out about it.

With these thoughts in mind, Lieutenant Commander Stom began composing a message to Starfleet Intelligence's Manpower branch.

ooc- happens directly after "The Click"

"They Chose Poorly"
Cmdr Jaal Jaxom
Acting XO
USS Miranda

==Captain's Ready Room==

Cat had gone on to her CMO duties. Jaal and Jii entered the ready room from the corridor that ran between the bridge, the ready room, and the main conference lounge.

"You look like hell sir," Jaal commented with a concerned edge in his voice. "I feel like I've been through it," was the only answer the acting first officer recieved.

Jaal let it slide. The Trill could only imagine what happened. Starfleet officers were prized captures for the technical and strategic information each held. It was the unspoken reality that went with the job. The higher the rank, the more you were coveted by enemies.

Captain Elaithin seemed pensive for a moment as if weighing some options against each other. Before sitting as his desk he turned to Jaal saying, "There's one more thing I want you to do...."

==A Few Minutes Later, Bridge==

Jaal walked onto the bridge giving a subtle, silent command to the posted security officers. He and Brex planned for what was about to happen right after they'd lost contact with the diplomatic team. More likely than not, a similar turn of events was unfolding on the Galaxy.

The tall Trill stood in front of the captain's chair and observed the Miranda's bridge for a moment. The security was ready. Everyone on the bridge was ready. Now Jaal moved to stand in front of the chair to his left. The one the 'guest' sat in while the ship's first officer sat on the captain's right.

Shar'or, the lead Breen observer, must have sensed something was amiss. She stood as well to face the Trill commander.

Jaal's eyes narrowed as he looked right into the visor on the Breen's helmet attempting to ascertain whether or not some type of hostile action was suspected. When Shar'or said nothing, Jaal said simply, "You and your friends will follow me."

Shar'or was silent for a moment. "What is the meaning of this?"

Jaal blinked once with infinite patience. He expected this... and more.

Shar'or gave nothing away. How could she through the helmet and dark visor?

"It means your government has betrayed us. It means our diplomatic team has escaped and is back aboard this ship. It means that we've figured out your little game with the Hydrans and T'Kith'Kin." Admittedly, Jaal wasn't entirely sure about that last bit but he added it anyway. It was most likely true. "It means you and Thot Gor will not be capturing this ship or the USS Galaxy or any other Federation ship for that matter."

There was still no reaction from Shar'or. Hav'an and Fer'an stood motionless at their respective places on the bridge. Hav'an was near the operations console and Fer'an was at tactical.

After a small pause to let that sink into whatever the Breen considered their brain, Jaal added finally, "And now, you will accompany me to the brig where you'll spend the rest of your time aboard this vessel."

"You wish Starfleet," as she spoke Shar'or tapped out a sequence into the device on her forearm just as she had before.

"Hey look, I don't have time to screw around," the Trill commander started, "You can go in peace ... or in pieces. I don't care which." Jaal noted that the same glyph as before brightened and dimmed with menacing regularity.

"You will provide us with a shuttle or other suitable craft and release us. Otherwise, this ship will be destroyed." Shar'or barked.

Even though this strategem was expected tension mounted across the bridge.

Jaal slowly, purposefully folded his arms across his chest. He remained the calm eye of the storm that was now swirling around him. "Ya think so do ya?" He raised his right hand slowly and snapped his fingers once. "Fine, have it your way."

Shar'or disappeared in a shimmer of blue transporter-created light.

"On screen Mr. Dawson," Jaal said keeping his eyes on Fer'an. The Trill knew that Hav'an was being watched just as carefully. If either of them so much as twitched they'd be fired upon and brought down.

Every crew member on the bridge knew what would happen next. Shar'or was sent 1000 meters off the Miranda's port bow. She showed up on the screen as a free floating body frantically trying to disable what she'd set in motion.

One second later the screen showed an explosion.

The sensors indicated the charge would have left a real nice sized crater in the top of the Miranda's saucer section. Had the other two bridges of the MVAM craft not been manned, it very well could have destroyed the ship.

Jaal continued to stare at Fer'an, "Your superior had a chance to save herself you know." He spun and looked Hav'an right in the visor, "You have the same choice. What's it gonna be?"

Both Hav'an and Fer'an reached for their respective forearms.

"Stupid," Jaal muttered under his breath.

The Breens motions were the cue for the hidden security team to take action. The movement being, of course, expected both Breen were stunned harshly without any hesitation whatsoever.

Jaal sneered. "Take them to the brig and make sure medical keeps them sedated. We don't want any surprises."

The hidden security personel emerged from their hiding places and took the two unconscious Breen observers away.

Jaal watched from the center of the bridge. He took a deep breath in. "Now the fun begins."

"Marching Orders"
Captain Elaithin Jii

Following his planning session with M'Kantu, the Captain took the opportunity for a shower and the replication of a change of clothes. It certainly made him feel much more alive. Amazing, the wonders a sonic showerhead could work.

As he strolled onto the bridge, all refreshed, he found that Jordan had indeed passed along his instructions, and the members of his senior staff were all at their posts. Jaal was standing near the OPS station where Jack was seated, a subtle reminder, the Captain thought, of what the Trill thought to be his true position. It was jarring a moment, seeing Gail at the helm instead of Taalis, but Jii wholeheartedly approved of Jaal's choices for those spots in his absence.

James was at sciences, with Cat standing not too far away, oddly enough. Abigail and Jordan were flanking Arel on opposite sides of the Tactical arch, and Jerri was working at the Engineering station. Shinta was seated in the command pit, with Master Chief Mahler standing near her. Brex, T'Chani, and Wes were the only ones absent, one because he was in a coma, and two because they were "in the field."

It startled that Captain a moment to realize he no longer thought of his officers, not even Mitchell, by their ranks, or even their last names, but as their first names. With all they'd been through in the two years since he'd taken command from the late Victor Murdock, they'd somehow become more than a crew. They'd become some kind of - bizarrely dysfunctional, to be certain - family. It was an idea the Bajoran found immensely comforting, and it helped to steel his resolve to bring them all through this alive.

"Allright." he started, standing finally near the front of the bridge where he could address everyone.

"Cat, has the Galaxy's crew been returned to her?" he asked taking care of the small things first.

"They have." the Doctor replied.

"Good. Jaal, how about our visitors?"

"One is a cloud of free-floating atoms, the other two are sleeping comfortably in the Brig." the acting first officer replied.

"Excellent news. An all-hands call then, if you please."

The Trill nodded, and pressed the button that sounded a bosun's whistle throughout the ship. All across the mighty starship, crewmen and civilians looked up from what they were doing to hear the Captain's words."

"All hands," Jii started "This is the Captain. By now recent revelations should have filtered out to everyone, so you should all know the stakes here. Put simply, we've stumbled upon an imminent invasion of the Federation. Right now, the Miranda and the Galaxy are all that stand between the Breen, Hydrans, and T'Kith'Kin, and a surprise assault that will likely result in the deaths of millions of Federation citizens."

"I don't need to tell you that we will do everything in our power to stop that. You know that already. But it's going to be tough. We are currently waiting on three things. One, we have two teams attempting to deactivate the minefield in a manner that doesn't involve any shots being fired. Should they be unsuccessful, we have a military option that should accomplish the same result."

"Right now, the members of our Hazard Team, and that of the Starship Galaxy's, are getting prepared to mount an assault on a hidden base that the T'Kith'Kin and Hydrans have been operating from. They are also attempting to acquire evidence that we can bring back to the Federation Council. There's also a large Fleet of Hydran and T'Kith'Kin vessels that our fighter patrols have located, that will be more than able to put a stop to their escape."

"So here's what we do. Our enemies want to capture us alive, so they can usher in a repeat performance of the assault on Starbase One. That's to our advantage. We also have the fact that the moment that minefield comes down, the Twelfth Fleet will not be far behind. So all we have to do is buy time. Time for the Hazard Teams, and time for ourselves."

"When we receive the proper signal, the ship will go to MVAM mode. I want all civilians to proceed to the shelter areas in the primary hull, which I will command. Commander Jaxom will command the secondary hull, and Commander Wolfson will command the Tertiary. Bridge crew assignments will be forthcoming. Weapons crews, I want all torpedo bays fully loaded, and all phasers ready to fire at a moments notice. Security - be prepared for boarders, because they will make every attempt to capture us. All science personnel - there's not much opportunity for research in this. All non-combat personnel will report to Operations for assignment to damage control and security teams. Counseling will assist medical in running the Sickbays on all three hulls. There's a fight coming, and there will be injuries. All fighter pilots should be prepared to deploy at a moments notice. Shuttlebay crews will equip every spare fighter and combat-capable runabout that we have, and all qualified pilots should report to Commander Dawson for assignment."

"That's all the orders I have to give. Everyone should be prepared because, make no mistake, this will be rough. It's going to be violent, it's going to be messy, and there's probably going to be some pain. But we will do the best we can, and if I know this crew and the Galaxy's like I think I do, then our victory is not in doubt. Bridge out."

Another whistle signaled the end of the announcement, and Jii looked out upon his gathered officers. "Allright, folks. " he started as he took his center seat. "Let's get to work."

Jordan took Shinta's seat as the Counselor departed the Bridge with Cat, and leaned in close to her husband. "Nice speech, dear."

"We all have our moments." he replied, as Jaal brought him the first PADD, one with their current weapons complement. Everyone had their marching orders now, and before the day was out, they'd either be headed home, or no longer among the living.

"Council of War"
Captain Elaithin Jii, CO, USS Miranda
Captain Darren M'Kantu, CO, USS Galaxy

"Computer, open a channel to Captain M'Kantu, USS Galaxy." Jii ordered as he slipped behind the desk, his conversations with Jaal, Cat, and Jordan freshly in mind. The entire aspect of this mission had changed. Peace accords were no longer their goal, but the prevention of an ambush that would take the Federation almost completely by surprise.

The computer beeped in acknowledgement as the Starfleet delta appeared on his screen, and a moment later, he saw the African commander of the starship Galaxy appear on screen. For a moment, it was unsettling - that had been Lee's place for so many years, after all, and Bhrode hadn't changed it all that much when he'd held it. Though M'Kantu had a temperament much more to his liking, the Bajoran found that he missed the comfortable feel of being able to predict how the Galaxy's commander would react. While he felt he had a good bead on M'Kantu, the pair still didn't know each other all that well.

[Captain Elaithin, it is good to see you alive and well. My thoughts and prayers go out for your Executive Officer. He performed well in your stead.]

"Good afternoon, Daren." Jii said, leaning forward. "And thank you. He's a good man, and I'm certainly hopeful this condition of his isn't permanent."

[I trust the accoutrements of your stay on Breen were not what you expected? It would appear our earlier estimates of their agenda were closer to the mark than we initially thought.]

"I agree - I found the comforts of the Breen diplomatic service to be decidedly disappointing. I assume you've heard that all your people are intact."

[Yes, thank the Prophet. There has been enough death and violence this day. We've lost enough valued crew between our two ships, and I fear we are not done yet.]

"I have a sinking feeling that you're right, Captain." Elaithin replied, and he frowned slightly as something crossed his mind. "We'll return them just as soon as my Doctors clear them. My CMO's a stickler for things like that." Jii replied. "I'm sure you're eager to get your officers back, however."

[I have faith in your Medical staff, Captain. Now, down to business. What have you learned of our 'loyal' allies while planetside?]

Quickly, the Bajoran Captain sketched in the full details of the Diplomatic team's experience, and then launched into the conclusions he and his own officers had come to, from the Breen's, Hydran's, and T'Kith'Kin's roles in this little scheme, to his belief from evidence that was, admittedly, circumstantial that that triad was somehow responsible for the many terrorist attacks on the Federation a year previously. "..they've been plotting this a long time, Daren. If they weren't so dead set on capturing our ships, I think we might have missed the connection."

[Do you have proof of this? The council and Starfleet won't accept our simple words for it. Not even our sensor recordings support your claims. And if the embassy on Breen has truly been destroyed, those records are also unattainable. We have nothing but blustering soldiers that in record may have been suspect in taking our team hostage, but even that is not uncommon in hostile negotiations. It is an accepted aspect of our jobs, as you are well aware. I'm afraid Starfleet would only see it as a wild theory.]

"I know. We don't have anything solid to back it up- but it's also the only thing that explains such a large alien presence inside the notoriously territorial Breen. As we saw in the Dominion War, they only ally themselves with someone they see as strong - and the Federation has never been on list. Like you said, though, we don't have any hard proof. That's part of the problem - one I'm hoping our Hazard Teams can fix. I understand you ordered them to send a burst transmission thirty minutes before they launch their assault on the mine control station?"

[Yes. Should give us enough of a buffer to strategize a response and/or extraction.]

"Allright. I had Commander Jaxom send them a burst transmission when I got back, instructing them to acquire any data possible from the computer systems they'll find. I'm hoping they'll turn up the evidence we're looking for." Jii noted, tapping his fingers on the desk in thought. "We've received a few minor status reports from Lieutenant K'rn's team, though nothing solid yet. Have you heard anything fro Lieutenant Ka'ranin's?"

[Regretfully, contact was lost with Lieutenant Kara'nin's team approximately 48 hours ago. Vanguard and Rogue Squadrons have been instructed to search the sector as a secondary objective, but we can only presume they are lost as the circumstances in the area prevent any real attempts to search.] The Galaxy CO was somber. This mission was getting quite costly indeed.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know that team included three of your senior officers. It's possible they're just out of communications range." the Bajoran offered consolingly.

[Perhaps, perhaps not. Let us concentrate on what we know for now. There will be enough time to mourn if need be later.]

Elaithin nodded as M'Kantu took the discussion back in a planning direction. "It's going to be tricky. We'll have to draw the invasion Fleet away from the base so the Hazards can bring the field down, and acquire the evidence we need to bring back to the Federation Council. I can only see three things in our advantage."

M'Kantu nodded. [12th Fleet, material pride in capturing the prize, and sheer arrogance that they are certain of victory.]

The Bajoran nodded in agreement. M'Kantu's thoughts were proceeding along the same lines as his own. "Another thing - My ship is capable of Multi-Vector assault mode, and I've got an experienced commander for each section." Jii replied. "Granted, it's not something I've often used, but I think having four starships instead of two will be advantageous. I'm planning to split the ship as soon as we receive word from Commanders Darion and Corgan."

Daren leaned forward himself in the holo-viewer. [This is your authorized command privilege, Jii. We agreed tactical scenarios are your area of expertise, your offensively superior vessel notwithstanding. I've evacuated all civilian personnel to the core sections of the saucer and, as you can see, I've taken up residence on the Battle Bridge. I would prefer not to separate unless and until we have warp capability restored in this section of space. Those perimeter mines *must* be deactivated.]

"I understand." Jii replied. "The Galaxy may be better off staying in one piece. My ship was designed to become three fully-capable starship - yours wasn't. Your saucer section would be a sitting duck."

["Agreed."]

"Allright." Jii replied, thinking a moment. He started to speak again, when a comm interrupted him. As he turned his head to the side slightly, he saw that M'Kantu was also receiving a call.

["Dawson to the Captain. Sir, We've just received word from Major Hammond."]

"Go ahead, Jack." he replied.

["They've found the T'Kith'Kin and Hydran Fleets, sir. They're in the Havras system, which is basically.."]

"..a giant asteroid belt. Order your wife to change course, Mister Dawson. Drop us out of warp immediately outside that system, and recall all fighters." the Captain ordered.

["Aye sir."] the temporary Ops Manager replied, and there was a faint click as the comm closed.

M'Kantu had apparently just been supplied with similar information. "You heard the same, Captain?"

["I did."]

"Good." the Bajoran replied, and smiled for the first time that day. "Because I've got a plan...."

"checking and sedating Breen"
by Koen as James A. Brooke, aCMO

"Doctor, message for you," one of the nurses said to Brooke, who was currently updating patient records of the wounded, while Cat was still in the cargo bay. "Route it here, please," he said. The screen on his desk came to life and showed the face of a security officer, a jg.
"Lieutenant," the man said, "We have two Breen in the brig, and on orders of the acting XO they have to be sedated at all times."

"I'll come down," Brooke said, "after I check what we can sedate them."

"But, sir," the security officer said, "they can come around any time now."

"Then shoot them again," Brooke said, "they will survive two stun hits, but they won't survive the wrong sedative. And as the only information we have about the Breen is from prisoners during the Dominion war, and I don't know all of it, I'll have to search what we can give them. Brooke out."

He closed the connection and first of all called up what they had on the Breen. Not much, it turned out quickly. But the need for sedation of prisoners had been real, specially because a lot of them had been wounded, so that they knew. Brooke selected two of the sedatives that they knew would work, took his tricorder, a med kit, and headed towards the brig.

The brig was quiet, with the prisoners sedated, and no other people but the Breen in the cells. "Lower the first field," Brooke said. With that done he entered the first cell and started of with a scan. "What is that for, lieutenant," the junior grade in command of the brig asked him. "Seeing if they are allergic to the one I want to use," Brooke answered, "if so, we'll have to use something else. And to gain some extra information on their physiology."

After the scan showed nothing special, Brooke also drew some blood, making sure to repair the damage to the suit they wore to protect them against the atmosphere on Miranda. Then he injected the sedative. The same procedure he repeated with the other Breen prisoner. "Now this has to be injected every four hours," Brooke said, "I think it's easiest if one of security's people with field medic training do this. I'll leave the sedative under their care, and they can inject every four hours. Can you call one of them here, so I can explain how to inject, as it is a bit tricky with the Breen."

The junior grade did so, and after Brooke had explained what was needed to sedate the two Breen, he left back for sickbay and his PADDs. But first he would start some tests on the Breen bloodsamples he had taken. Everything they could find out was advantagous, so he would do full tests, including genetics - he would ask Cat's help for those, as she was the genetic's specialist onboard - blood chemestry and a whole range of others.

"No Rest For The Wicked"
By: Cole Slaton

Cole was putting the detailed touches to his fighter, he still had the smile that crept into view when he pealed the protective strip from the hull revealing the letters of his name stencilled along both sides of the canopy in while letters. Lt. Cole Slaton. That was the only thing that was going to be normal about his fighter, he had big plans.

His ears peaked when he caught the whistle over the tannoy, he glanced upwards - though he didn’t know why - listening to the announcement. The captain’s voice came through clear.

["All hands," Jii started "This is the Captain. By now recent revelations should have filtered out to everyone, so you should all know the stakes here.....

".... That's all the orders I have to give. Everyone should be prepared because, make no mistake, this will be rough. It's going to be violent, it's going to be messy, and there's probably going to be some pain. But we will do the best we can, and if I know this crew and the Galaxy's like I think I do, then our victory is not in doubt. Bridge out."]

Another whistle came over the tannoy signalling the end of the announcement. Cole could only imagine what was going through the captain’s head, and those of the senior officers, he’d hate to be in their shoes. He was here to fight, ‘to kick-ass’, as humans tend to phrase it, that and nothing more.

He returned to his fighter, it was looking like his old fighter back with the Twin Stars, when he was finished she’d been the Wraith he fell in love with back then and more with the Rogue’s fire power and manoeuvrability. “We’re going to make history...” he whispered running his hand gently over the nose of the fighter.

He grabbed the paint and went back to work. “No rest for the wicked.”

"Setting the Pieces"
various

Imperial Hive Vessel Mr'Hata
T'Kith'Kin Flagship
Havras System

Commander Gr'Chinick frowned as the report of the fighter engagement on the edge of the system came back to him - most especially the news of the Starfleet fighters escape. Granted, it was supposed to happen - jus tnot quite yet.

The timetable would have to be moved up some.

"Vereen Makalichik." he spoke, and his second-in-command immediately appeared.

"At your disposal, Commander." was the immediate - and expected reply.

"Send word to our allies. Begin the mobilization of the Fleet, and inform Thot Gor that it is time for his voices to join us. I expect the Starfleet vessels will be here shortly, and I want them captured quickly."

"Yes, Commander." The insectiod T'Kith'Kin replied, his antennae twitching in obedience.

"Vereen." Gr'Chinick stated again, deciding on further orders. "Tell them also that we are moving up our invasion timetable. This time tomorrow, I want to be in Federation space."

"What of the Fleet of Federation vessels on the nearby border?" Makalichik responded, and then offered clarification. "The remainder of our Fleets will not be here for two days."

"They are of no moment. They will merely be the the first to fall."

"Of course, Commander."

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

Federation Starship U.S.S. Anduril
Pathfinder-Class, 12th Fleet
Breen-Federation Border

Captain Seamus Murdock found that he constantly marveled at his new command. Before the temporal incident that had brought his veseel two hundred years into the future, his prior command, the NX-07 Miranda had been the seventh NX-Class starship, one of the few commissioned before the founding of the Federation. At the time, he had considered it to be a technological marvel - but this vessel far outstripped the capablities of it.

He found it ironic that, in his time, Starfighters had been relegated to planetary defense. Now, they had thier own warp drives that were every bit as fast as his old ship. His own vessel carried two such squadrons.

Commander Volnak, his Vulcan first officer, approached then. Seamus had to admit that the Vulcans of this time were much more agreeable people than in his day.

"Captain Murdock." the stoic Vulcan started, stopping next to the center seat with his hands folded behind his back. "We have received word from Admiral DeMercereau that enough time has passed, and we are to begin the dismantling of the defensive minefield the Breen posses."

"About damn time, laddie." the scotsman practically growled. There had been no word from the Galaxy or the Miranda in nearly three days, since sensors had detected the activation of a second minefield, and sensors recorded a subspace dead zone surrounding nearly all of Breen space. "Is the decoy ready?"

"It is." the Vulcan first officer confirmed.

"Verra well, then." the Captain replied, and turned to face his Operations officer. "Mister Dickson. Activate the Trojan, and turn it's navigational controls over to the CONN."

"Aye, Captain." the Ops manager replied, and did as he was ordered. "Done."

"Onscreen."

On the viewscreen, the "Trojan" appeared. She was an old Excelsior-Class starship, sufficiently damaged in the Dominion War to not be worht repairing. Her warp drive still functioned, but the vessel entire interior would have to have been rebuilt to make it habitable.

As it was, she had flown out with the 12th Fleet under the Anduril's remote control - and given a wide berth by the rest of the Starfleet vessels. This was for a very simple reason - essentially the ship had been loaded with several tons of antimatter. It was one, giant space-going bomb with a singler puprose - to trigger the detonation of the entire Breen minefield.

Seamus also hoped, at this point, that it would bring down enough of the seond minefield to allow the Fleet to come to the aid of the two Starfleet vessels in the middle of that who surely needed it.

"Go, lad." was the simple order he gave, and across all one hundred and eight ships massed on the Border, Bridge crews stopped what they were doing to watch.

"Overload timer set." Dickson reported, as the ship got closer and closer to the border. "Raising shields."

It was going to be one very big bang, after all.

At the preset time, the Trojan slipped into the minefield, headed directly for the closest mine that anti-tachyon scans had revealed. Dickson was counting down, Murdock noted, and everyone waited in anticipation to see if this would work. Numerous other vessels were decorating the entire area with anti-protons, waiting to reveal if any further cloaked mines would be preset.

The detonation lit up the viewscreen, and the computer automatically adjusted the light intensity to safe levels. Murdock watched in satisfaction as the shockwave expanded into a ripple, setting off every one of the Breen's mines that et came a cross, the explosions of those mines propelling the destrictive shockwave even further. Minutes ticked by as they watched the Breen's defensive network fall.

Over the comm, some Captain that Murdock could not remember the name of confirmed that anti-proton scans revealed no further Breen mines.

"Mister Laven." Murdock spoke, speaking to his science officer. "How's those dead zones of yuirs lookin, laddie?"

"Marginally decreased." the Chief Science Officer replied. "I've matched our scans with those of the Sakharov, Texas, Icarus, and Avalanche. The dead zones are or or less intact, but we have triggered an area where they're not as deep. It'll get us most of the way there, with only a half-day's travel at impulse to break through into Breen space."

Apparently other officers had confirmed that, because Admiral DeMercerau's voice came from her flagship, the Relentless. ["This is Admiral DeMercerau to all ships. We've cleared most of a path. Let's go bring our people home. Move out."]

And the hundred and eight vessels of the 12th Fleet did just that, on a course inexorably leading them to War.

OOC: Written by Francis Byrne, Laurel Brown, and Allison Cunningham from the USS Relentless PBEM, command ship of the 12th Fleet.

"Bound For War"

Fleet Admiral Irene deMercereau,
Commanding Officer: 12th Fleet

Captain Frank Therrien,
Commanding Officer: USS Relentless

Commander Sam Mallaganee,
Executive Officer, USS Relentless

Lt. Commander Chase Peterson,
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Relentless

****

Main Bridge, Deck 1, USS Relentless

"Sir!" Chase Peterson said from her position at the tactical arch of the USS Relentless, command ship of the 12th Fleet. The 12th Fleet was currently deployed along the Breen Border, saturating the area with anti-protons to locate the cloaked minefield of the Breen Defense Force. Admiral deMercereau had, moments earlier, given the order to use thier Trojan Horse Plan to breach the defenses. It had been just about three days since they'd heard from the Task Force, and it was time to determine what exactly was happening. "I have sensor readings from Breen Sector again."

"Locate the Task Force," Therrien said, switching his own readout to display the sensor readings. Explosions ranged along the Breen border with the Federation, "Concentrate on the Havras System. According to what little intelligence we have on Breen Sector, it contains a systemwide asteroid field that blocks a lot of sensor readings. If I had to conceal military buildup, I'd do it there."

"Already on it," Peterson replied, doing some calculations in her head as she ran the scans. "I'm reading the Task Forces warp signatures leading toward the Havras System. No departure trails. They didn't make any attempt to conceal their tracks."

"Irene," Therrien said, turning to the fleet admiral sitting to his left in the flag chair. "It would appear that Captains Elaithin and M'Kantu wanted us to see this. I'd like to deploy the fleet to Havras, with your permission."

"By all means. Clear me a channel to the fleet," deMercereau ordered, then stood to face the viewscreen, and thus the holoimager that would transmit her orders to the fleet. "Officers and Crew of the 12th Fleet. The Anduril has completed it's mission. In a few minutes, we will be launching for the Havras System in Breen Territory, where we believe the USS Miranda and USS Galaxy are holding against impossible odds. It is our duty to see to it that their sacrifices are not in vain. I do not need to impress upon you the utmost importance of our mission. If I am right, the Breen and whatever allies they may have gathered have ambushed the Task Force and are attempting to capture the Miranda and Galaxy to their own ends. We go now to their relief. Secure all hands to battlestation and proceed with insertion plan Havras Beta. Fight as you have practiced over the past weeks, and we will triumph. Carpe Diem. deMercereau clear."

The link was shut down, and deMercereau nodded to the officer manning strategic operations, who immediately began to transmit orders to the fleet. "Captain Therrien, you have the bridge," deMercereau said, taking her seat next to he chief of staff and stratops officer.

"Evelyn, bring us on heading and engage," he ordered the officer at the helm, "Red Alert, all hands to battlestations. Phoenix Squadron prepare for launch.
117th Battalion, prepare for boarding action." The first half of the 12th Fleet surged ahead, following the Relentless, while the second half moved off in another direction, lead by Admiral Jessica Dorcett's USS Protector.

Commander Samantha "Sam" Mallaganee keyed up a tactical situation display on her personal monitor. She was still seated in the so-called 'observer' position on the bridge, where any one of the ship's senior officers that normally did not stand on the bridge could sit down and talk with the Exec and the CO. Her brow furrowed as she regarded the map, thinking of far too many earlier situations wherein she had charged in with little sensor data and a whole lot of assumptions. That she was still alive today was more because of luck than any tactical advantage that she had had at the time. Whole armadas could easily hide in the sensor dampening field generated by the asteroid belt - and her gut instinct led her to believe that one rather large armada was currently engaging
the Miranda and the Galaxy.

Sam called up an overlay onto the map of the mapped objects in the system. A
large 'red' area indicated a region of null sensor data thanks to the iridium in the asteroid field. "Captain, I recommend that we insert ourselves here,"
she swung her monitor around to face Therrien and pointed at an area that would be both shielded by the 'null area' and a gravity shadow of a nearby planet, "We should be able to get some visual readings on the situation as well as the ionization trails left behind by the Miranda and the Galaxy from this area. We should also be covered by the same nullification effect that the enemy is using to their own advantage."

Frank took a moment to look over the information himself before making a decision. "StratOps, contact Admiral Dorcett that we're changing the insertion point to these coordinates." He rattled off a series of coordinates. Behind him, deMercereau could be seen confirming his order to her StratOps Officer.
If there was one thing Therrien had learned in his years as a commanding officer, it was that any plan had to be flexible, or it wouldn't work. His gaze was drawn to the far side of the bridge by deMercereau's commanding voice.

"This is Admiral deMercereau to all ships. We've cleared most of a path. Let's go bring our people home. Move out." the Admiral could be heard sending to the other 107 ships of the 12th Fleet.

Therrien turned his eyes back to the viewscreen, where the USS Protector, the command ship of Admiral Dorcett, deMercereau's XO, flashed past the screen.
The Concorde Class Starcarrier's engines flashed as they lead the way for the
53 ships of Beta Wing. "Bring us alongside the Protector."

Moments later, the 12th Fleet was aligned for warp, and deMercereau gave the order to engage. In perfect unison, the 108 vessel strong 12th fleet, truly an impressive sight to behold in all their majesty, leapt to warp, bound for the Havras System and for war.

"Surprise Is The Key"
By:
Major Wes Hammond
Lt Cole Slaton

After tiding up the workshop around his fighter Cole was making his way over to the major, while making this own personal adjustments to the look, and feel, of his fighter he'd been thinking on the coming battle. The father had always said it was 'the calm before the storm' though he'd refrained from telling Cole when he'd been in any sort of war. The calm where you mind wandered, sometimes thinking too much was as deadly as a bullet, but others it was as an effective weapon as any.

"Sir..." Cole said placing his hand on the major's fighter leaning against it. The repairs were well underway, almost completed by Cole's guess, even with his passive scan. "Have you got a minute?"

Wes poked his head up from the inside of the cockpit, pushing the open canopy out of his way. Looking down from the top of his fighter, he recognized Pilot Slaton from their discussion in his office a few days earlier. "Certainly, Cole. Give me a moment and I'll be right down." His head dissappeared and he could be heard giving instructions to Tech Sgt.
Thomas. A moment later, the squadron commander climbed over the side of his fighter and down the ladder, past the fresh paint from the three T'Kith'Kin biofighter silhouettes that he'd added to his kills during the recon patrol.

"Sir, its about the coming battle. We all know we'll be in the thick of it from the get go, and I have some ideas if your interested in hearing them."

"I'm always interested in hearing ideas," Wes said, clapping a hand on the newer pilot's shoulder and leading him over toward his office, "I can't garauntee anything, but I'm always willing to listen. What'd you have in mind?"

"I was thinking of something I was taught, before I joined up. 'Suprise is the key to all victories' and I think I have a surprise that might work to our advantage." He waited until they entered the office before continuing, he didn't want this to get out. "Space for a lack of a better word is - black, if we have a small squadron, four fighters say, all black so the eye can't see them and with jamming equipment onboard no one will see them coming." He couldn't help the smile.

"With one hand to strike openly, with the other..." he tilted his head leaving it to the major's imagination.

"It's a thought. However, all of our fighters are coated with an antiradar paint, and have about as extensive countermeasures onboard as I could get our Quartermaster to scrouge up," he frowned at the thought of the mess the quartermaster had made of the paperwork the other day, "Run it by your flight leader, Major Starburst. If she wants to implement it, tell her she has my permission. If not, well, that's her decision."

"Aye, sir..." Cole nodded. "Cheers..." He couldn't hide the sly grin nodding to the major before stepping out. ~One down, one to go~ he thought. The Breen wouldn't know what hit them.

Hammond nodded and turned back to his fighter. Slaton was thinking. That, at least, was a good thing. He climbed the ladder and slung himself back into the cockpit. The repairs were going slowly, thanks to the cursed bioplasma weaponry, but he and Thomas were almost finished.

"To The Teeth"

USS Miranda Hazard Team:
Lt. Commander T'Chani Darion,
Hazard Team Leader
Ensign Jeremiah Leger,
Hazard Team Member

USS Galaxy Hazard Team:
Lt. Commander James Lionel Corgon,
Hazard Team Leader (Chief of Security)
Lieutenant Claire Barnes,
Hazard Team XO (Security Officer)
Lieutenant JG Chase Remur,
Hazard Team Hacker (Tactical Computer Specialist)
Lieutenant JG T'Lan,
Hazard Team Member (Security Officer)
Lieutenant JG Walter Marsh,
Hazard Team Member (Security Officer)
Ensign Tarin Iniara,
Hazard Team Member (Assistant Chief Ops Manager)

T'Chani had left word for Galaxy's Hazard Team CO to prepare his personnel for an impending mission.  After that she'd gathered her own team.  Complete with Flanagan's stealth-system the runabout Avalanche was being prepped for departure.

They were headed into the heart of the lion's den, at least as far as the Hydran's and T'Kith'Kin were concerned.  It was still uncertain whether their recon mission would reveal anything of importance.  Lt. Commander Darion hoped it would.   As usual she'd arrived in the shuttle bay before anyone else.  T'Chani had already stowed any necessary personal gear aboard the runabout.

Hazard Team Galaxy filtered into the Miranda's shuttlebay, having arrived (plus equipment) via transporter minutes ago. Like beasts of burden they carried their gear on their backs, unloading it wherever space could be found on the Avalanche.

Of all the Hazard Team members, the Galaxy contingent's temporary leader and security chief, Lieutenant Commander Corgan, looked the most overprepared.  On top of a strong, resistant Starfleet Hazard Team specialized uniform, he strung about himself webbing that held a plethora of battle gear. A few photon grenades, extra power clips for phasers, a combat tricorder wirelessly linked to his earphone attached HUD, and two type two phasers, one at each hip. His boots, whisper quiet despite the gear he carried, held a Starfleet issue matte black boot knife on the left, and a type one phaser on a ankle holster on the right. Over the uniform and webbing, and hanging as far down as the knees, was a light gray, poncho like cloak. The cloak did not shine or glow, but kept rather dull in the shuttlebay's bright lights.  Even Corgan's glasses were changed, the lenses now orange; similar to target range eyewear.

The rifle, though a type three C, was almost unrecognizable. The standard targeting apparatus was removed, and a larger one with a wide, self telescoping lens was in its place. It looked out of proportion with the rest of the rifle, yet James held it with ease.

One could either be awestruck with his preparedness, or embarrassed by his paranoia.

James thought it should have been standard gear, thanks to lessons he learned from the Dominion War.

"We're ready." Corgan announced, slinging the rifle on his shoulders.

Claire had come in a little bit earlier, but was equally decked out. She had selected two heavy Type-IIa Photon Rifle and added TDU headset under her battle armour helmet. She had a string of extra power cells and sonic & concussive grenades.  Strapped to her back was her katana and wakizashi samurai swords, and she had twin sai in her boots. A self-modified overpowered hand phaser was at her hip, and she knew that the camo-face paint had gone to far, but.. It matched the camo over-cloak she wore at least. Inside her boot, she had also put her Swiss army knife, a compass and a series of old-style hand flares. Hanging from her back was a small rocket-propelled grenade launcher.

James awkwardly glanced at Claire. "You know how to use those?" He said, his focus on the swords.

"Yep, Chief. I spent time in a Japanese Buddhist temple being trained by a grand-master."

"I used to take Kendo in high school, stopped doing it after the academy. I wouldn't know what to do with them anymore. Nice though."

Claire grinned, "There is always time to make up for that. Might be fun to spar at some point."

Ensign Tarin arrived silently and without fanfare.  In addition to the standard Hazard Team gear she had a healthy amount of photon grenades around her waist and extra power clips strung up the front of her uniform.  A Type II phaser was strapped to the outside of each thigh, and a pair of small black-handled knives graced her calves, one poking out of the top of each boot.  Perhaps the most interesting part of her gear was the pair of rifles strapped to her sides, angled slightly towards her back so as to keep her arms free.  At first she had just gone with the Type 3d pulse rifle, strapping it onto her combat gear so that it hung from her armpit and was lightly secured at the waist, ready to be called into service at any moment.  But then, perhaps for the sake of balance, perhaps for her own personal enjoyment she had under her left arm added a TR-116 rifle, securing it in the same manner.  Although she was most comfortable with the Type 3d, she had been itching to try out the prototype weapon in combat ever since first encountering it some years prior.  And under her standard issue combat helmet she had donned the TR-116's basic targeting headset, its gleaming yellow lens flipped to the side for the moment.  Without that one piece, her getup would have been quite symmetrical.

She took a moment to do a quick once-over of all her gear, checking that it was properly secured yet still allowed her freedom of movement. Satisfied, she settled herself off to the side, waiting for the others to arrive.

Next came T'lan and Marsh, similarly decked out in standard gear. Type three phasers, hazard team suits with HUDS, combat tricorders and photon grenades. T'lan differentiated herself with a small backpack, recognizable as an engineer's light combat kit. Marsh, however, only had an olive green headband tied to his forehead.

"Sir, we are ready." T'lan announced to James, while keeping a wary eye to her partner Marsh.

Lieutenant JG Remur followed them, sticking close to Tarin.  She hadn't done too much to modify the basic body armor, simply strapping on the normal utility belt that came with her computer specialist work, exchanging a few of the more mundane tools for flashbangs and photon grenades.  Within the other pouches lay to true tools of her trade. Several of the most advanced lockpicks, codebreakers, and hacking devices, all of which she knew inside and out.  Chase was never too much on weapons, and was probably the worst marksman on the team.  However, strapped to her left leg was a holster for a Type 2 phaser pistol and to her right leg was her own bit of flair.  A combat handaxe.  With all the others bringing along random bits of equipment, she'd decided to bring her weapon of choice as well.  Completing her ensemble, she wore no helmet, since she only trusted her own eyes with her work, and instead simply pulled her long hair back into a tight military braid.

Jeremiah Leger of the Miranda-B had just finished his workout with Lt. Reed when he saw a Science Department Commander blow right by him and charge right into the Holodeck.  He shrugged it of and went off to the locker room for a much needed shower and uniform change.  After the shower and change, he got the message that the Hazard Teams from both the Galaxy and the Miranda were being deployed.

 He smiled at this new opportunity to show his new CO what he could do.  He grabbed his Phaser Rifle and slung it over his shoulder, his mek'leth which he kept under his belt behind his back, concussion grenades and flashbangs (never leave home without them) packed nicely in a small backpack with extra charge packs for his phasers, combat tricorder and small medkit for the commando on the go and two type two phasers holstered on his belt in crossdraw fashion.  He then grabbed his helmet off of its pedestal and high tailed it to the shuttlebay.  He fell in with the rest of the troops.  "Leger, reporting as ordered.  Primed and ready ma'am." He said to the CO when she looked his way.

Nyssa moved into the shuttle quietly, her hands holding onto one of the Phaser rifles that she had been given. Her heart was pounding insider her chest as she found a seat that was somewhat far enough away to hide the nerves that were welling up inside. "Ready" she called out, the sweat in her palms building up.

Once both Hazard teams and their gear were secured aboard the Avalanche the runabout departed its home base en route for the designated coordinates that had been programmed into its flight computer.  T'Chani turned her attention to bringing Galaxy's Hazard CO up to speed.  "I know my message over the comm was vague; for security purposes it had to be.  Our main task is to locate the base of operations used by the T'Kith'Kin and Hydran.  Standard recon mission.  If we find it we're to blow it up."

"Straightforward enough." Corgan commented, "However, I have not encountered Hydrans and T'Kith'Kin before. Can you people tell me what we are up against?"

"Federation Intelligence is really sketchy regarding the T'Kith'Kin and Hydrans. We haven't seen the Hydran Sovereignty in something like 70 years. Why they choose to reveal themselves now is anyone's guess. Physiologically, they're tri-limbed, tri-eyed, tri-breasted. Internal organs even come in threes. They're about as alien as they get," Lieutenant Remur offered, stepping up next to Darion and Corgan, "The T'Kith'Kin, if this is possible, are more so. They're unlike anything we've ever seen. And very few of us have ever seen them. Federation contact is limited to three encounters with the USS Miranda-B. Each time, the Miranda was either destroyed or crippled. They also recently corrupted a Federation officer, Lt. Commander Simon Everett, into trying to draw the Miranda into the destruction of the Dominion Homeworld."

Corgan turned to fix her with a look that suggested he thought she might be crazy.

"What?" she shrugged, "I like to read."

****

Some time later.

In their own separate groups, the Miranda and Galaxy Hazard Teams kept quiet, as much to ponder their mission as it was to prepare for the inevitable landing. They'd recieved the location of the enemy base form Rogue One not two hours previous, and they'd been weaving their way through an asteroid field since then.

Corgan polished the lense on his phaser rifle's targeting scope repeatedly, his gray death eyes recalling battles past. He was strangely quiet for his first real battle in years. Catching the last year of the Dominion War was enough to turn any Starfleet officer into a veteran.

A member of the 108th Last Chancers?

A member of a regiment known for housing the borderline insane, insubordinates, criminals, and various ne'er do wells whom Starfleet couldn't throw away due to their immediate needs of filling their ranks with footsoldiers?

Either the survivor was highly respected, or deeply reviled.

T'lan made a hobby of disassembling the people around her, trying hard to understand every motivation, behavior and action her companions held, so that her understanding of the people around her, and in turn, the illogical species in the galaxy as a whole, could be definite and without error.

Illogical that may seem, for emotional species were hardly predictable, therefore the effort would be in vain.

But T'lan could see Corgan's faraway look. Rarely was Corgan haunted in these days, finding escape of his many demons through work. Yet on the occasional day, T'lan saw the ghosts in his gray eyes, and knew to not pry further.

She had enough on her mind, and was as sick to death of illogical humans as a Vulcan without emotion could be. Their emotions brought strife and conflict, a polar opposite of the Vulcan way of life. Their emotional attachments were disasterous; at least one human was emotionally hurt in their relationship squabbles. What were humans thinking, she though to herself, to be so attached to each other? Was it not harmful enough to hurt each other in wars? Why hurt each other in your social situations too?

And why did humans have to bring those fights to her serene Vulcan shores? Such an intrusion to her tranquility; she could barely tolerate it!

Now she was stuck with the various emotional species on a mission, more importantly, stuck with one person who tried to well up emotion in her.

'I love you.' He told her. A phrase with deep meaning, casually tossed out to throw her off guard. She imagined that at the Hazard Team shooting trial, such a dirty trick would wound a more emotional species' pride.

No, T'lan was bothered by how such words, who's meaning was supposed to be deep, was used to distract her.

How illogical.

"T'lan, what are you doing?" Marsh intruded, alarmingly getting past T'lan's wariness. She spun aside on her seat, and saw that the headbanded human was sitting right beside her!

T'lan stammered in her transition to keep her Vulcan calm. "I was... thinking about the mission."

"Is that so?" Marsh whispered, a wink and a nod to let T'lan know he was in on a secret.

Unfetted by emotion, T'lan did not feel anger or embarrassment, but peaked dangerously close. "It is of no consequence." T'lan said, her attention to her engineering kit, "We are to perform a mission. Logically, we learn our objectives, carry them out, neutralize obstacles, and return home. There is nothing more to think about."

"Really?" Marsh asked skeptically, "Sounds to me like you are bothered by something."

The Vulcan dropped her kit and snapped, "And what would that be?"

Marsh stepped back, wounded by her sudden stinging comment. "Well, for one you have avoided me ever since the tryouts. We used to be a group, remember? Now I can't find E'xch... he keeps sulking about missing the tryouts. O'Rourke is still angry about the boss lambasting her performance. And as for you... I don't know what your deal is. Do you mind telling me, or are you going to leave me in the dark like everyone else?"

Her balefulness set aside, T'lan decided to answer the human truthfully. "Remember the shooting gallery?"

He nodded his head, "Yes."

"Were your words sincere?"

It was Marsh's turn to be taken aback. "Ummm... what words?" He stuttered.

T'lan was sure Marsh didn't know what to say, though he knew what she meant. Marsh, frozen in fear and at a loss for words, failed to come across with a straight answer.

"Emotional species treat emotion frivilously and recklessly. Next time, I suggest that you be more careful about what you say. That is why I have been so distant."

"You were offended by my comment." Marsh spoke plainly, "I see."

"To be offended is to be emotional." T'lan retorted.

"Not neccessarily, T'lan." Marsh quipped back, "What I said threw you off guard. That was its expressed purpose. I just thought of something that was off the top of my head and threw it out. But... problem was... you were on the top of my head too."

T'lan raised a speculative eyebrow, as Marsh apologized. "If you felt that way, you should not have used it against me in a contest. If I had emotion, I may have been hurt."

"You are hurt by what I said." Marsh replied with a smile, "What I said was an emotional comment. An unemotional person would have ignored the comment, since an emotional comment would not have an effect on an unemotional person. However, you were affected because you did not let it go. You in fact talked to me about it. Therefore, you are not fully unemotional."

T'lan's green blood boiled up with hot anger. The human stated something glaringly obvious about her, and to a Vulcan, being pointed out as slightly emotional was greviously insulting! She wanted to slap the human, or scream a vicious retort.

But then again, it would prove the human's point further. She kept silent, a hair's breath away from an outburst.

"Even you Vulcans have an inkling of emotion." Marsh soothed, "Sorry. What I did was terrible. I shouldn't have played with you like that."

The human's apology salved her wounded pride. "Your argument is flawlessly logical. I was beaten. You were right. I accept your apology, and offer my own."

"Think nothing of it." Marsh shrugged, "Want to go out for dinner after the mission?"

Eyebrow twitching, T'lan half hissed, "I decline..."

Before T'lan could go further, Marsh was viewing outside the porthole, ignoring what T'lan had to say. His stare was that of intense interest, blended with awe.

"T'lan, look." Marsh waved her over.

Outside the Avalanche, the astroids drifted aside on their eternal orbit, small brown celestrial pebbles compared to what the Avalanche was approaching.

To say it was large was an understatement. To also call it a huge astroid was adeptly inaccurate.

Marsh and T'lan saw a living, breathing entity fused with the rocks, a titanic astroid with small patches of its original rock, while the rest was consumed by pulsating, growing, flailing, writhing bug flesh. Bone and exoskeletal walkways criss crossed and bore into the astroid's pitted surface, digging deep into the rock's solid core. A gaping, fleshy maw occupied most of their view, docking Tr'Kith'Kin fighting vessels to large, pulsing umbilical cords. Tentacles whipped out of the biological docking bay, brushing away astroids and straddling the Tr'Kith'Kin vessels.

"We're here..." T'lan breathed in surprise.

'Simulations and Conversations'

By
Dr. Phoebe Ivers
Science Officer

And
Lt. (JG) Dylan Reed
Science Officer

The science labs were still a bustle with energy as the teams still frantically searched for a way to solve the sensor conundrum. Dylan paused outside one of the auxiliary science labs, planning exactly what was to be said. He wanted to make sure he got off to a good start at least with one superior. Checking the padd once again, he headed into the lab to see Dr. Ivers.

"Excuse me m'aam, do you have a moment?" He asked politely.

Phoebe turned, slowly, her long hair falling over her face, and her dark eyes staring out from behind the thick bangs; they looked tired. "Time is not a luxury on this ship at the moment, but, yes; I believe I can afford a few moments."

"I was wondering if you would mind looking over my idea for improvements to the sensor array to aid our current situation, m'aam."

She turned, fully, to face him. "Lieutenant... Reed, isn't it ?" Dylan couldn't help but notice the voice. Deep, and sultry; with a strong English accent. "How may I help you ?"

"I had an idea that Cmdr Mitchell suggested I share with you. I thought we could create in essence a subspace sonar with the use of a simultaneous disruption pulse from the navigational deflector along with a single sensor sweep on a non active basis. We wouldn't get continuous data, but we could pulse every few seconds to give us a reading, giving us in effect a sonar reading of the area." He waited nervously for his superiors verdict, after the previous debacle.

"And what did Commander Mitchell think of the idea, beyond asking you to share it with me ?" Phoebe asked.

"Permission to speak freely ma'am?" Dylan replied.

"Of course." Phoebe replied. "No need to stand on ceremony with me."

"I took quite a grilling from Commander Mitchell, I've spent the last 3 shifts cleaning the waste management system. I missed the notice about double shifts and went to the holodeck to take my mind off the problem - I always found taking one's mind as far away from the problem brings it closer to the solution. Anyway, he flew off the handle didn't even listen to my idea." Dylan smiled, beginning to sense an ally on the ship finally.

"Well, from everything I've heard of Commander Mitchell, he is terrible about losing his temper." Phoebe replied. "And he has an even harder time finding it again. Don't let it get to you. He's a good scientist, but from what at least one other peson on this ship has volunteered about him, he's not what one would call a 'nice guy' by any stretch of the imagination. Now, may I see your notes ?"

"Certainly ma'am." He handed the PADD across to her, relieved to finally find someone else who had a less than affectionate opinion of his superior.

Phoebe ran her dark eyes over the information on the PADD, holding it close enough to her face that the little screen cast some eerie lights on her sharp features.

"Very good... very good indeed." she said, almost under her breath. "An excellent bit of work, Mr. Reed. Or, well... what's your first name ? I'm Phoebe. You wont need to call me anything else. Unless you become angry with me... and then use whatever explitives you find apropriate." and she offered him a warm smile. "Now... this idea of yours. I do believe we could benefit from implimenting it. It would, at least to some degree, clear up a serious blind spot in our ability to collect sensor data. Shall we begin... putting it all together in practice I mean ?"

Dylan smiled back, slightly overwhelmed by his fellow scientist. "My name's Dylan, my friends call me Dyl. I believe with the proper modifications and some simulations we could pull this off, although I would want to make sure any disruption pulse would not create a negative reaction with the mines." He paused, turning away to leave before suddenly turning back with a momentary change of heart. "Phoebe.. Thank you." He smiled, a wave of acceptance washing over him as he finally felt like the Miranda could be home.

"That was my first thought." Phoebe commented. "We wouldn't want more trouble than we already have from those bloody troublemakers. What say you, we run those simlulations, using whatever data we have on the mines at the moment. And then, after we're pretty sure the modifications will work, we can bring engineering in on it. They have a way with ship's systems that seems to cut down on time taken on a task."

"Good Idea." Dylan replied, nodding.

"So, shal lwe run our simulations on the holodeck ?" Phoebe asked. "I wouldn't want you to run on to Commander Mitchell, and get into trouble again. But... this is work..."

"We could take this to one of the hololabs, that way we'll have access to all of our science facilities as well. I've taken the liberty of downloading all the relevant information on the mines into this isolinear chip" He said, removing a chip from his pocket. "Shall we?" He asked, gesturing towards the door.

Phoebe nodded, and Reed led the way out of the main lab in which Dr. Ivers had been working. A turbolift took them to their destination- one of the Miranda's hololabs. Something they simply did not have in the earliest days of her starfleet career. And, as with any technology that was new, or innovative, Phoebe felt like the proverbial kid in the candy store.

She had not worked in the hololabs yet, and so she was definitely intrigued. She turned to Reed with a big smile on her face; "Well, load up your data, and let's see what we have to work with." she said.

Dylan moved over to the console in the centre of the room. The rest of the hololab centered around this circular console, allowing whoever worked to almost feel like they were inside the experiment. With a few precise motions, he punched up the Miranda and the minefield as a 3 dimensional representation, and began the simulation sequence. "This shouldn't take more than a minute or two to calculate and project." He said, as a status bar flicked up onto the screen, indicating 7% rendered.

Phoebe watched as the holographic simulator did it's work. That's what she loved about Starfleet. Science was all about what was new and unknown. Her father, though she loved him dearly, had always been about what was old, and dead, and buried. By the time the image was fully rendered, she and Dylan were standing, still, on the decks of the Miranda in the science lab; but they were surrounded by a three-dimensional image of the Miranda, Galaxy, and the biomine field.

"Okay, we should be ready to run the first simulation momentarily." Dylan punched in a few more commands.

Phoebe moved to stand behind the control console that operated the simulator. "Alright, let's see what happens." with a few pokes of her long, red-nailed fingers on the console she ordered the simulator to run it's simulation, showing what would happen if Reed's modifications were implimented.

A time counter appeared over the virtual Miranda as it progressed through the field. The first pulse emitted from the navigational deflector as a visually represented wave, contacting the first few mines. The first row infront of the Miranda deactivated, momentarily according to plan. The ship progressed and scanned as predicted. Dylan waited anxiously as the second pulse was emitted, this time hitting the second row of mines. They detonated.

"Damn." He said, looking at the simulated data from the replay. "It looks like the computer picked up something we didn't from the scans of the mines. They adapt to the harmonics of our disruption pulses. We may need to set up some kind of oscillation in the disruption pulse, and enhance the magnitude so we can scan more than a single row of mines ahead." Dylan's thought chain switched into overdrive as he began debugging his own idea. This was his element, experimentation. "What do you think, Phoebe?"

"You're right..." Phoebe stepped from behind the console, and stood in the center of the simulation. "Try that- rotate the disruption harmonics, and enhance the output. And set the computer to record harmonic frequencies that the probes adapt to. That way we wont waste time in a random rotation, using frequencies that the probes have already made obsolete."

"We should be ready to run a second simulation in a moment or so doctor." Dylan was staring intently at the screen, punch in the final few commands to initiate the modifications. Pensively, he once again hit the 'run' button.

Phoebe was back by his side, watching the results of his work. "There... it's working." she smiled at him, charmingly. "Mr. Reed... I think this idea of yours has proven it's worth. In theory anyway."

"In theory," He smiled, turning to his partner in crime, "so what now?"

"Now it's time to put it into practice." Phoebe said.

~Bad Trip, Part II~

"Crashes and Cactii"

Lieutenant Cutter Kara'nin
Lieutenant Curtis Geluf
Lieutenant Corran Rex
Lieutenant Ella Grey

From the floor where she had been thrown, Ella groaned slightly. She supposed that for her first shuttle crash (the vague memories she had of the separate timeline with the ship crashing didn't count) she'd done marginally well. Nothing felt like it was broken; she only felt like she'd been smacked around like a ping pong ball.

~~Well, that didn't go so well.~~ She signed to Curtis

"No joke." the Kerelian replied. "What the hell happened?"

Corran shook his own head as he sat up from the overturned seat. The Belgarion seemed to still be in one piece, at least, though she was more than a little banged up. There wasn't even any power right now.

"We crashed," Cutter said, angry sarcasm indicating what he thought of the question. He was standing at the front of the shuttle as Rex rose to his feet, bending down and looking out the forward window of the upside-down runabout.

Curtis sighed, "Yes, I can see that. *How* did we crash?"

"How the thekh should I know," the avian snapped. "I was neither piloting nor navigating," he said, shooting a quick glare at the Trill next to him.

~I would not recommend a repeat of that experience.~ Jalen's dry, analytical voice noted inside Corran's mind.

~You're getting as bad as Vorrin, Jalen.~ Corran rebuked, and cleared his head as he caught the science officer's comment. "If you can do better, Lieutenant, I'd be happy to let you drive."

"There isn't very much left for me to 'drive,' is there?" Cutter replied, his neck craning forward slightly, challenging the fighter pilot in a manner quite uncharacteristic for the otherwise apathetic scientist.

The Trill purposefully ignored the attack and turned his attention to Geluf. He reasoned that for a winged species, crashing to the ground was probably especially disconcerting, and chose not to take offense. The alternative was to think that Cutter was just an ass, and he tried not to think of a fellow officer that way.

"We were on our approach to the mine, and seemed to encounter some kind of gravitational flux. I've never seen anything like it before. All the instruments just went crazy, and our warp bubble expanded. I hope the sensors got a recording before they were knocked out, because I'd really like to take a look at those readings later."

"It took everything I could coax out of the ship to put us down more or less intact on this planet - wherever the hell this planet is. There wasn't even anything within a light year of our position before the.. flux." Rex frowned.

"Well, by some highly, highly improbable fortune, we wound up on the surface of this planet in one piece, rather than inside it or stranded out in space," Cutter explained.

"We should hope that our lucky streak continues, then," Curtis offered, a weak smile playing across his lips.

"What lucky streak?" Cutter asked, his voice was growing louder and louder to the point of yelling. "We are now stuck, light-years away from the Galaxy in a dead and destroyed shuttlecraft on some planet deep in Breen territory. There is almost no hope for rescue because the Galaxy is unable to go to warp due to a field of 'subspace jamming' mines that we were sent to find and study in order to develop an anti-technology. *We* were *our* only chance for rescue!" He paused, a heavy breath moved into and out of his lungs and his voice dropped back to normal, "and now we are stuck here. What lucky streak?"

The four crewmen sat silent as Cutter's rant sunk in. Cutter, himself, turned and stepped across the ceiling of the up-turned shuttle and leaned forward against the wall, his wings behind him sinking down depressed.

"Yeah, because yelling at each other is certainly going to help, Cutter." Rex muttered under his breath, turning his attention beck to the consoles. After a few moments of trying to coax the system into some semblance of being online - and getting absolutely nowhere - he swore a few choice curses in Trill before slamming his palms onto the console in frustration. "The damn things completely dead. I'm not getting anything at all."

Cutter looked over, rolled his eyes and appeared as though he was going to say something, but then perhaps thought better of it. To the Trill, that was just as well.

~I somehow doubt that striking the console will result in the restoration of power.~ came Baledra's seldom-heard voice in the Trill's mind. Several hosts back, Baledra Rex had been Chief Engineer aboard the Starship Excelsior. She probably knew what she was talking about.

~You too, Bal?~ Corran cast the mental sarcasm at his former host. ~Everyone's out to get me.~

After several moments of silence, Ella tapped her foot against metal and signed, ~Is anyone else hot?~

"Now that you mention it, yeah." Curtis replied, unconsciously fanning himself with his hand. "Let's check out our little utopia shall we?"

The Kerelian made his way to the back hatch and, with some difficulty, managed to pry it open, revealing the landscape of the planet.

"Good Gods." Rex managed, his jaw open in astonishment. "There's... nothing here."

Before the motley crew was the most barren desert wasteland any of them had ever seen. Yellow sand filled the infinite horizon, distance becoming distinct only by comparing the placement of giant dunes that, even now, were slowing being eaten away by a hellish-hot breeze. An occasional tall, yellow-green sentinal cactus stood gaurd over the immense nothingness, the only sign of any form of life. There was absolutely no cloud coverage, and the sun beat down on them harshly.

"Ka tarsiti," the avian mumbled under his breath as he shielded his eyes.

"I think," Curtis began, "That we're in big trouble."

"That might be putting it mildly." the Trill muttered.

Ella signed something at the Ops officer then that Corran couldn't understand. "What'd she say?"

"Nice place." Geluf replied. "I think she was being sarcastic."

Corran locked eyes with Grey a moment, smiling in spite of himself. "Yeah. Looks like a good place to visit. Let's not live here, though."

"There isn't much chance of that," Cutter interjected, "We need food and water and there isn't any of that here."

"Noticed that, eh?" Rex replied. "Well, if it's anything like the deserts on Trill, there should be water in the cactuses. We've got some survival gear in the ship. Curtis, you want to check those out? We'll figure out what we need to do from there."

"Right." the Kerelian replied, and headed back aboard the Belgarion for a moment. When the rather mild-mannered officer returned, he was swearing.

Rex did not take that as a good sign.

~What happened?~ Ella signed to the one person who could understand her.

"The water bottles are contaminated. There was a coolant leak, and it ate through the side of the containment wall and ruptured the bottles. Destroyed about half the ration packs, too." the Kerelian replied.

"Frellin' great." Corran muttered. "Allright. Let's hope this deserts got more than just those cacti, maybe some form of lizard. Did the phasers check out?"

"They seem fine. Only one working tricorder though." Curtis said as he passed a phaser out to each officer. After a moment's consideration, he handed the tricorder to Kara'nin. "Here."

"Allright." Corran started, subconsciously taking charge. "We've got shelter for the night with the ship. We need water though, and food. First order of business is to secure those. Then .. well, the four of us are some of the smartest people on the Galaxy. If we can't fix that runabout, nobody can. Anyone disagree?"

"Sem," Cutter said and Rex sighed, somehow suspecting he would. "We can't use the shuttle for shelter. At night, maybe, but we don't really need shelter then, do we? Look at the color of the sun, its white. Its flooding this planet with ultraviolet radiation, we need shelter from it or we will cook and we will die. But you can't hide from fire in an oven," he said, reaching over and rapping the inside wall of the shuttle with his hand. The loud clang illustrated his point, "This metal box will kill us just as quick."

"He's right, we need to find other shelter." Curtis explained.

"I know we can't use it during the day. But we will have to use it at night." Corran replied quickly. "I don't know if any of you have ever been in a desert before,but it gets very cold at night. I don't see anything around that we can set fire too, but we will need something to keep us warm. We also need something to protect us from the sun during the day. We all live on a starship, and the uv radiation here's probably going to cook our skin pretty well if we don't get out of it."

Ella signed something again, and Corran quickly looked to Curtis for translation.

"Basically she said "damned if we do, damned if we don't"

"That seems to sum it up." Cutter replied, subconsionsly lifting his wings slightly an an effort to provde himself with shade. Corran had to wonder if the Frunalin even noticed he was doing it. "For now, we should seek water."

"Right." Corran replied. "One thing at a time."

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

~Its much bigger up close, isn't it~ Ella signed as they stood beneath the towering stalk.

"Indeed," was Curtis' only reply. The cactus must have stood twenty feet high, its wide stalk nearly seven feet in circumfrence. Sharp spines jutted out several inches in every direction. The surface was scraggly, like the skin on Bhrode's jowls, angry and old, and its two only arms were held out in quite a threatening pose. "It looks like someone I know."

"It's a plant," Cutter shot back, meaning plants couldn't resemble anyone.

"Lieutenant, would you like to scan it and see if it has any water inside?" Rex said looking at the winged scientist. Some people dealt with stress better if they were feeling useful, and Corran had to wonder if the avian had ever been in an uncontrolled circumstance such as this one before. The man was a scientist, after all, and an astronomer at that. It wasn't a profession that lent itself to a great deal of away missions.

Cutter looked back, his emotions unreadable. Silently, he unhooked the tricorder from his belt and set up a scan. Meanwhile, with a similar silent manner, Ella pulled out a long angle iron and hammered it into the side of the towering cactus and immediately, clear liquid began to stream forth down the iron like a spiget.

Cutter's blue feathered brow rose as he studied Ella's makeshift faucet and said to Rex, "There is water inside." Curtis laughed behind them. Looking back at the scanner, Cutter continued, "Its not pure water though. There's something disolved in it, some chemical. Or more than one, probably."

"What kind of chemical?" Rex asked, walking over and peering at the tricorder in Cutter's hands.

"I don't know. This can't detect structure. There's hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, calcium, sodium, silica, phosphorus, potassium, iron, nickle, chlorine, technetium, iridium, cerium, uranium, hassium--"

"So can we drink it?" Curtis asked, interrupting before Cutter finished the periodic table.

~Uranium?~ Ella signed, spelling out the word with her hands.

"I don't know. I'm an astronomer, damn it, not a doctor. I don't know what this stuff will do to you." There was a pause as all four watched the liquid stream forth and strike the sand, sinking so quickly into the parched land there was not even a puddle. "Perhaps someone should drink it. Then, if they live, we will know it is safe."

"One of my past hosts was a Doctor, but she wasn't a xenobiologist. I don't know much about non-Trill physiology." Corran noted. "If I'm reading right, there's not enough volume to do me much damage. Long as we're not here too long."

"That's hardly a resounding confirmation." Curtis replied, eyeing the cactus skeptically.

Corran shrugged. "Maybe. If it makes you feel better, I'll try it first." he replied, and unstoppered one of water bottles that hadn't been contaminated, but had already been drunk in thier trek to this cactus from the runabout.

The stream slowly filled the bottle and when it began to overflow, Rex brought the bottle to his lips. He sniffed it, then noticing nothing abnormal, took a small taste. Then a long swig. Then a breath, followed by another long swig. "Its not bad. Kinda sweet."

This was enough for Curtis and Ella who quickly took handfuls of the liquid and drank. Cutter eyed Rex warily for a moment, while the two engineers to gt their fill, waiting , perhaps, for him to drop dead. Eventually, he too satiated his thirst.

"Luxury Cruise"

Ensign Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

After being virtually locked in a large metropolis for the better part of my life, I found that I enjoy voyages very much, whether it's in a smuggler ship, a luxury cruiser or a Starfleet transport.

I also found that the company you're with is perhaps the most important part of the trip. I prefer no company at all, and if I must – please don't let it be a bunch of over-enthusiastic Ensigns.

****

After Lieutenant Remur was dispatched by her superior and left Intelligence, Saul found himself working with Intel's resident computer specialist, an NCO called C'hitah. The two of them continued to work well into the next shift, while the other Intelligence crewmen retired to their chambers, one by one.

Eventually, Saul rose from his chair and replicated both of them a light dinner. His partner needed a break too, though she didn't admit it. Saul had a good guess why she overworked herself that day, and after ten minutes and a bowl of Spaghetti, his suspicion turned out to be true.

"I really don't know they brought Remur to help us." She said as she put down her fork, suppressing a yawn.

"I understand that Dobryin brought her back after having a chat with the Chief Tactical Officer." Saul indicated. "Perhaps it was some department-heads-politics-thing.", he suggested.

C'hitah didn't seem convinced. Saul could understand why – bringing a specialist in her area of expertise from another department, was equal to shouting out loud that she wasn't good enough at her job. Add to that the fact that Remur was an officer, and you get one case of hurt pride.

"We probably could use the help, anyway." C'hitah added.

"You know what I think?" Saul asked, grinning. Even though he didn't know his partner well, he recognized that humor would be the best way to disarm the situation. "I think it's all an officers' conspiracy. Ever since the dawn of times, officers did their best to turn all NCOs into cooks and janitors. I think that Dobryin was rebuked for having a NCO in her department who is allowed to touch computers!"

A moment later, Saul 'earned' a rapidly growing Spaghetti sauce stain on his uniform.

"May I remind you that you're an officer yourself?" The computer specialist chuckled, putting her spoon back on the table. "Perhaps I should use you to satisfy my need for vengeance."

"Wow there lady, I'm too young for this!"

She chuckled once again, and Saul smiled inwardly. He just earned his first ally in the department.

"So.", she began, "How was your trip to Starbase 212?"

"You don't want to know.", he responded, rolling his eyes.

****

"You don't want to know" Saul responded, rolling his eyes. He quickly removed his earphones, shutting them down in the process.

So far, he managed to avoid encountering the Tellarite Ensign now standing above him. He was quite successful for the better part of the flight, but now, an hour away from Starbase 212, he seemed to run out of luck.

The Tellirate sat next to him. "Hi there, we didn't get the chance to talk – I'm Nerash. I'm going to join Ops at Starbase 212. Where are you headed?"

"The USS Galaxy." Saul muttered, gazing ahead of him at the magnificent view visible through the upper Observation lounge's hatches.

"Really? That's a ship with quite a tradition! Admiral Price is one of the most famous Captains in Starfleet!"

"I'm sure he'd love to hear that. Too bad we're not heading his way."

"Didn't you say you were assigned to the Galaxy?"

"Me? Yes. Price? No. For quite some time now, I understand." Saul explained impatiently, showing the Tellarite what he was holding in his palm. It was a standard-issue PADD. "I didn't know it either until I took a look at the manifest."

"Don't tell me you're going through every name on the manifest. There must be hundreds of names there!"

Saul frowned. In his mind, he realized he had no idea how many passengers did the Galaxy actually accommodate. It was a trivial piece of information, but he still left himself a mental note to check it out.

"And if I do?"

"Well… that's one way to pass the time during the trip. Personally, I engaged myself with fascinating conversations with the other officers in transit."

'I know' Saul said without words, hiding his thoughts behind a fake smile. 'I'm the only one who managed to avoid you.'

"I guess I'm just a hermit, and not that interesting."

Saul stood up, hoping that the Tellirate will get the message. Just as he straightened up, the Ensign took a step foreword, accidentally bumping into him. Saul's PADD fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

There was an awkward moment as none of them moved. The Tellirate Ensign was startled by the way the Intelligence officer gazed at him. He seemed alarmed, tense.

He had no way of knowing that in Saul's homeworld of Utrecht III, the rule of the street was that 'If you didn't hold it or wear it, you didn't own it.". Many lethal brawls began when someone dropped something he held, and Saul, by instinct, was ready to leap at his lost possession.

It took a conscious effort for Saul not to do so. He knelt, still looking the Tellirate in the eye, and picked up the PADD.

"Is everything all right?" Nerash asked. At this stage, he already regretted starting the conversation.

Saul didn't hear him. As his eyes were lowered to the PADD, they met a name.

"Someone you know?"

A name he knew all too well.

"There's someone you know on the Galaxy?" Nerash repeated.

"Yea…"

"Well, good for you! It's always nice to have a familiar face in a new place. I, for example—"

The Tellarite's voice faded as Saul simply turned his back at him and headed toward the exit. The Intelligence ensign was a little shaken. He didn't expect to see this name here, not at all.

This changes things, he thought, but then again, the whole wisdom, the whole idea, was to confront the unexpected.

And prevail.

"Shhh...we're hunting bio-mines" Pt 2

by

Lt Cernu K'rn - Asst Chief Science Officer,
Biotec/Subspace specialist
Lt jg Phoebe Ivers - Science Officer,
Subspace specialist
Lt jg Klaus Fienberg - Medical Officer,
Neurocyber specialist
Ens 'Nara Sol - Engineering Officer,
Tactical Systems specialist
Ens Ry'shan H'hanna - Medical Officer,
Xeno-Biology specialist
Ens Tarin Iniara - Operations/Engineering Officer,
Backup Telepath

At the moment that Iniara's body went taut, Cernu looked past her to the others who seemed to be waiting around and 'spoke' ~I would suggest unpacking and attending to your quarters. This may take a few more moments~ He gestured to the bulkhead door that slid back soundlessly and revealed a well-lit corridor about twenty meters long. Six recessed portals lined the walls, three on each side, staggered not to be directly across from one another. Each had the name of the member of the team the quarters were for.
Nara glanced over to Cernu. It seemed odd. Normally you know where to look because you instinctively know where the sound comes from. But this...it wasn't sound she was following. She couldn't remember anyone speaking to her telepathically before, as for betazoids it would include actually being in the mind, whereas Cernu simply projected a "broadcast." It was taking some getting used to, but it was a lot like vocal speaking.

Knowing where the "voice" is coming from for one.

She saw Iniara and took a step toward her seeing her go tense, but stopped and just looked. She scowled. What was he doing to her? She held herself in check and tried not to be accusational as she asked, "Is she going to be ok?"

Doctor Ivers, who was standing close to Naranda, noticed Iniara's discomfort at the same time as Nara did. She looked from Iniara back to Doctor Fienberg. And then back again. "Perhaps the doctor should stay close at hand. It could be the ship doesn't agree with her, somehow," she gestured to Klaus. "You've a medical tricorder handy, I'm guessing?" she asked him.

Ry'shan produced a hand-held medical tricorder from her belt and moved closer to Nara. "Have one, do I," she said as she held it close to Nara with concern.

Nara saw Ryshan out of the corner of her eye and without looking away from Cernu asked, "Can you tell what's happening with Iniara?"

Klaus raised one finger up and had begun to speak as Ry'shan, but stopped, and flipped out his and stood next to Nara as well.

Ry'shan was grateful there was another doctor there besides herself. She had thought he had raised a finger to silence her, so she only glanced at Nara and didn't answer her. She held her tricorder in Inaira's direction.

Nara continued to glare at Cernu. She didn't object to him projecting thoughts to her head at first. She wanted to, but she figured she didn't want another reprimand so soon, so she played along. She wanted to scream at him to use voice. This man made her very nervous. Sure he said he wasn't reading her thoughts, but he could well be lying. Even the ship made her edgy. There was something about this plant. It was eminating something. Nara barely noticed her hands form into fists at her sides at she looked at Cernu to explain what was wrong with Iniara.

"Yes, of course, my apologies, doctor." Phoebe said to Ry'shan. "Is Iniara alright?" and even as she spoke to one of her companions about the wellbeing of another, the _expression on the face of a third caught her attention.

Nara looked like she was about ready to chew through a bulkhead, were there a standard metalic bulkhead available to complete the metaphor. Phoebe had noticed it before- though her personel file listed her as Betazoid, Naranda's demeanor was often closer to that of a Klingon.

Phoebe could feel the tension in the room without any telepathic powers whatsoever. She swallowed hard and waited for someone to speak- by mouth, or, in the case of Cernu K'rn, inside her head.

~It is good that you collect medical data during this process though it will be over very soon~ Cernu told them, ruffling his head-plumage and settling it back down. ~Vr'lu and Iniara become acquainted and her mind is attempting to process what she is experiencing~

Nara cocked her head at him. She spoke coldly, "I really wish you would use voice. How can she become 'acquanted' with a plant?" Nara felt confused now. Was there more to this ship than she assumed. She gulped and looked at the ceiling and looked around her stepping back as the nervousness turned into fear. "The ship...can it...read minds?" Nara began to really wish she could run, but where? Even if she were to go to her room, it would still be within this ship that seemed to be doing some nasty things to Iniara.
Nara snapped. Her stance became rigid as she found her courage. She stepped over to Cernu and spoke in a low voice and dripping with a little coldness, "So this ship is more than meets the eye. I apologize to you..." Nara looked at a wall and nodded to it, "and IT for thinking of it as a lower lifeform, but..." Nara narrowed her eyes and stepped even closer, "if you cause her any harm...." Nara stopped and stepped back as a new confusion came to her. What WOULD she do. She was likely crossing the boundries of insubordination now. She sighed as she put her hand to her head closing her eyes as she spoke wearily, "I'm sorry. I just feel very nervous feeling like something is watching me constantly."

~Your concern is admirable but unnecessary~ Cernu reassured her ~Iniara will be able to reassure you momentarily~

Phoebe heard Cernu's words, as if she were listening to them on some kind of headset. They were in her ears, or, rather, in her head instead of coming from the person speaking. And somehow her mind managed to think of an old relic of Earth's popular culture. The drive-in movie. Where patrons would sit in their parked cars watching movie projected on a giant screen several feet away, while the audio was piped into their cars via small speakers attached to their windows.

It was something vaguely similar with K'rn. The sounds were not coming from him. They were coming from inside Phoebe's head. And though she looked instinctively at K'rn as she heard his voice inside her head, his mouth had not moved, nor his eyes made any kind of contact with hers.

Phoebe spoke, aloud; "I'm a doctor of physics, not of medicine, sir." she said, taking a step closer to Cernu. "But, she looks almost as if she were in pain. Is she going to be alright ?"

And even as the last words left her mouth, she turned her dark eyes on Ry'shan for the answers.

"I don't know myself either......Telepathy and surrounding disciplines aren't a strong point of mine." Klaus butted in.

Happens right inbetween "Reprimanded" and "To The Teeth"

"Reprimanded." Part 2

By
James Mitchell,
Chief Science Officer,
USS Miranda

Ensign Jeremiah Leger
Hazard Team Member
USS Miranda

"You're to spend the next 3 shifts scrubbing and purging the waste management tanks on Deck 52. Maybe that'll make you realize being on the Miranda isn't about playing with your prick on the holodeck in an emergency situation. Report immediately. Commander Wolfson will be keeping me apprised of your progress, so no scurrying off to the sickbay to play doctor next else I decide to have you scrubbing plasma manifolds at warp. From the outside." He stepped back out of sight, to let the door slide shut.

Dylan took a step back, staggering almost as he'd been struck. What had just happened?? Not only had Mitchell flown off the handle, but he'd also more or less dismissed his idea, without thought. What kind of ship was this?? Things certainly ran differently on the Oberon, but he was here now, and Mitchell was his chief, regardless of whether he liked it. He took a deep breath, and headed out of the holodeck.

Leger had been returning to the holodeck to retrieve his mek'leth before heading to the shuttlebay when he heard the enitre thing between Mitchell and Reed from down the hall. 'who the hell is this idiot?' he thought as he heard the verbal tounge lashing that Reed was recieving. He noticed that the man doing the chewing out was a Bajoran, a Commander from the looks of it. Dylan hadn't done anything wrong in Jeremiah's opinion and this Commander had to be spoiling for a fight if he came all the way down here to the holodecks just to find Reed.

Well, if he was looking for a fight, Jeremiah was more than willing to give him one.

Before any logical, reasonable thought crossed his mind, Jeremiah was already in a fast sprint down the corridor and had intercepted the Bajoran Science Officer before he had a chance to enter the turbolift. He grabbed him by the elbow and spun him around. "Hey lighten up jerk!" he yelled at the officer. "Its not like we're on red alert or anything here!"

The Bajoran Science Officer, caught offside by this rambunctious goat-herder that stood before him, was absolutely speechless. He looked down at the hand that had him grasped by the elbow.

"I sincerely hope the only reason you're holding me is because you had the impression I was about to trip and fall, Mister."

"Actually, I was afraid that your big head was going to get stuck in the turbolift doorway." Leger replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'd hate for Marvin to come up here and spend the rest of his busy day trying to pry your ass out of it."

His voice was still brimming from the tirade he's given Reed earlier, and the fact this idiot stood in front of him for all appearances in relaxation mode only simmered the waters of rage even further to the boiling point.

"Now, you listen up, puke." Since he'd had the derogatory term cast at him first, he decided to throw a stone back.

"Unless you're working waste management like Reed back there has been re-assigned to, you must be blind or have the IQ of a bag of hammers to assume us being in Breen space, surrounded by mines, and just surviving an a raid by T`Kith`kin and Hydran fighter crews is a regular, every day thing, do you?' He crossed his arms in closing off any reply.

"I side with the lack of intelligence, myself. Anyone who slacks off on the job, such as yourself, it would appear - playing games rather than doing your job protecting the civilians on this ship - that you don't give a crap about anyone other than yourself. Who is your commanding officer?"

"YOU call ME blind?!" Leger asked, indicating that the Hazard Suit should be a dead giveaway as to who his CO is. "You're a big boy, or appear to be one anyway, I'm sure you can figure it out eventually. And actually, surviving raids from losers like the Breen and T'Kith'kin is mere child's play compared to what I'm used to." He was in this far, so there was no letting up now. So what's another court-marital and/or reprimand in the grand scheme of things? Its not like he hasn't been punished for doing a good deed before.

Besides, he was on a roll now.

"As for doing my job... You're one to talk, charging down here like you're General Patton reincarnate or something instead of staying at YOUR post and contacting your officers to come to you for a chew out session. I would think that this lovely little invention that you may have heard of called a 'commbadge'..." he pointed to the little gold and silver delta shield on the Science Officer's chest. "would be enough to contact any member of your department. And look here..." he gestured to the black panels on the walls of the corridors "Computer panels to use the inter-ship comm system. Lovely little innovations we have here in Starfleet that have come around in the past HUNDRED YEARS!"

The Bajoran's jaws clenched and unclenched rigidly. The nerve of this... petaQ! Arel was being an unwanted influence once again, he thought to himself. Even using the words she called him on these punk pansies. He narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms as he stepped back into the turbolift.

"I shouldn't have to explain to you that intra-ship frequencies during emergency situations need to be held clear of all incessant and un-necessary chatter, mister. As to my decisions, those are just that. MINE. Rank does come with privileges, not the least of which is to disassociate myself from joystick crybabies who think they know how to fly and fight." He grinned without humor; devilish.

He slipped a hand into one of the invisible field emitters that signified no more crew were crossing the threshold into the lift.

"You can tell you're unintelligent, or perhaps a green recruit maybe?" He shook his head. "No... You're a little old to be an Ensign, so.... either you're failing promotion testing waivers or you have a record. Wearing your uniform off-duty? It really isn't impressive. Do you sleep in it, too? Nevermind." He refused to give the marginally intelligent dumbass the satisfaction of goading him into a tiff. He was a low-ranking idiot after all. Perhaps for a reason?

"T'Chani is not who I was referring to, she's doing her job and out on a critical mission, unlike some people we know, hmm?"

"Ya mean the one that I'm reporting to IN uniform?" Leger interjected. The idea that he slept in his uniform was simply insulting. "I think reporting in civies would be a bit odd don't ya think?" Where the hell did this guy get his information at? Does he just assume stuff for a living?

"The next time you feel like mouthing off at me, you'd best be sure you can back it up. Else you might find you'll be stuck purging plasma injectors on the Hazard craft for a bit longer in your storied career than you expected. Oh, and that's not a threat, but a fact. I might have to do something you and I both will regret." He paused, raising an eyebrow as he looked past the Hazard team's right shoulder, then coming back just as quickly.

"Well, I might regret. You won't. You won't have the ability to think about it. Now, STAND DOWN." The smile split wider to give us a glimpse of teeth and gums. "Like you say, *we* have to get back to our posts, hmm? You can play with your boyfriend later." He pulled his hand back in to allow the field to complete its routine.

"Respect the rank, not the man, Ensign. Now, run along before I report you for insubordination." His smiled dropped to thinly straightened lips and he waved the same hand he'd used to keep the lift open in a 'go away' motion - palm down, forefingers fluttering up and down simultaneously. The doors closed and whisked him away to his next destination.

Some people were simply not worth the trouble.

"QI'yaH!" Leger shouted as he spat on the deck, hopefully loud enough for Michell to hear him. "I really don't have to respect EITHER, petaQ!" He shouted at the now closed turbolift doors as he turned on his heel and stalked back to the now empty Holodeck. Reed must've already left. He picked up his mek'leth that was still in the corner, the holographic Bat'leth however was gone. Leger silently chastized himself all the while. 'Idiot! It was that same additute that got you into so much trouble back on DS9...' he shook his head as he headed for the turbolift and then down to the shuttle deck to meet up with the rest of the Hazard Team.

No good deed goes unpunished...

"Sympathy For The Devil"

(Takes place two days before the Galaxy arrives in orbit around Breen)

Principal Characters

Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Ensign 8-Ball Hunter

****

USS Galaxy-A
Deck 11
Holosuite 4

Victor paused at the door to the holosuite and ran a visual check to ensure that he wasn't leaving anything behind. He'd already counted the shell casings from his rifle and accounted for all of the rounds he'd expended in this session, and ensured that the holosuite's had recorded the correct amount of lead-alloy mass had been transported out, but it never hurt to be careful.

He found nothing, as he'd expected. He never did - but that was the reason for the check.

With a 'click' he pulled the isolinear chip with the target range scenario on it from the control console, placed it back in the chip-case, and stepped up to the door, rifle case in hand. He'd needed the time shooting to clear his head and get ready for the upcoming mission - it wasn't good to be thinking of other things when you had sheep you were responsible for - and he'd overrun his time, so there was likely someone waiting for the holosuite.

He keyed the door open, stepped out - and almost ran into them.

****

8-ball stood outside the holodeck door and tapped her foot. A lot.

The day had not gotten off to a great start. A late alarm, no clean uniforms, a dressing down for reporting for duty with an unprofessional physical appearance, a dressing down for reporting for duty in an untimely fashion, a dressing down for getting into a heated argument with a junior science officer who wouldn't know the difference between the evolutionary leap between a Bolian's physical anatomy and a wombat's. Then there was the lecture on not challenging said junior officer into a match of anthropological knowledge and laughing hysterically when they mixed up the economic systems of the Daledians and the Dopterians, a lecture on making said junior officer cry when actually telling him he didn't know the difference between the evolutionary leap between a Bolian's physical anatomy and a wombat's, and then of course the lecture on telling her superior officer if he didn't like how she treated hopelessly incompetent officers then he could stick a wombat up his ass.

Ultimately, not a good day. And 8-ball couldn't vent to her friend Ella about it because apparantly she actually had work to do or something, so 8-ball was forced to take retreat in the one place where things made sense: the bar. Specifically, Big Man's recreated bar she used to live in before the big fight tore the whole thing down. She needed to drink, breathe in the second hand smoke, and kick every holographic bad boy ass in the bar who thought he knew how to play pool. She was even wearing her favorite little red hustling dress to further the boys' idea that she was just a silly girl trying to play a man's game. 8-ball was ready. She was pumped.

Except for the fact that whoever was in the holodeck was taking up her fucking time and refusing to leave.

And so 8-ball stood in her little red dress, trying not to shiver, and tapping her foot.

She had, in fact, been tapping her foot for the last ten minutes, and was finally considering kicking down the door when a very large, broad shouldered, and generally imposing looking sort of man stalked through it, nearly colliding straight into 8-ball. She stepped back quickly and managed to avoid the big lug but her foot landed awkwardly on it's side and she wobbled ungracefully for a minute. This did not add to her good mood.

"It's about godamned time," 8-ball said, glaring at her ankle as she rubbed it. "I've been waiting for like half an hour just so you can charge out through the door like a this huge black bull of doom or something and. . ."

8-ball stopped. She looked closer at the lug and felt like crawling backwards into the wall to get as much space between her and the giant as possible. There was just something about his presence that was just fucking... creepy. 8-ball stepped involuntarily backward again and said, "Gee, you're sort of an intimidating kind of ogre, aren't are? You practice that whole Gestapo air to you?"

Victor looked down at the woman as she moved back out of range, and processed her face through his memory. He had a good memory for faces, and it took only a moment to recognize this one once he realized that he'd seen her talking to Gray. "No, Ensign," he replied. "I was born with it; I don't have to practice at all." He shifted his rifle case to the side so it wouldn't bump into her. "I'm sorry for running over into your scheduled time."

8-ball felt her shoulders straighten backwards and she frowned. This was stupid. Some random guy she had never met before was making her want to go run and hide. It couldn't have been just the fact that he was a big, broody looking sort of guy. She had met way too many of those, and most were really just momma's boys who would start sobbing if you stepped on their little toe. But this guy... there was just something so... so ominous and... holy shit!!! 8-ball blinked and looked at the guy more closely. Tall, dark, ominous... she knew who this guy was!

"Hey!" 8-ball said. "You're Victor, aren't you? Ella's little broody love-muffin! Oh, wow, that's so cool! I thought I'd never get to see what you looked like." 8-ball paused, looking him over again in more detail. "Yeah, you're not so bad. I don't know if you're worth all the fuss, but... not so bad."

Victor regarded her for a moment silently as he tried to imagine Gray making a fuss over him - much less using the word 'love-muffin' to describe him - and failed. "I think you're exaggerating, Ensign, but I do know Lieutenant Gray," he nodded. "You're her friend Ensign Hunter, correct?"

"Yeah, that's me. I go by 8-ball." She stuck out her hand automatically and then felt herself start to pull it back. Was it really a good idea to TOUCH the guy giving her the super creepy vibe? Wouldn't it be much more logical to just excuse herself and go run away quietly... logical... LOGICAL?!

8-ball very quickly stopped herself from pulling back her hand and more or less forced Victor to shake with her. "Ella told me how people always reacted to you. I just thought you hung out with a lot of stupid people. I didn't think I'd feel it too." 8-ball shrugged. "Oh well. People rely heavily on their intuition but usually it's crap anyway. So why haven't you made out with El yet? You like her, dontcha?"

Victor frowned at her. "Gray's a good friend, yes. Better than I deserve."

"Well, isn't that sort of for her to decide? I mean, you might not think you deserve her and blah blah blah, but if she decides she likes you anyway, what are you complaining about?"

"Nothing. I stated a fact, not a complaint," Victor pointed out in a disturbingly Vulcanesque voice, scrubbed clean of emotional context. "She deserves a better friend than me. I'm not good at it."

8-ball rolled her eyes. "So what? Didn't anyone ever teach you that practice makes perfect? I don't make a great friend, either. I'm selfish and lazy and thoroughly irresponsible. But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit in a dark corner all my life, just to spare people the agony of having to deal with me. Besides, you're completely wrong. People never get what they deserve. You don't think Ella deserved to be attacked however many years ago, do you? And whatever dark, traumatic secrets you've got buried in your little broody head, you probably didn't deserve them either. People just get shit upon. So, maybe Ella does deserve a better 'friend' than you. Who cares? That's not what Ella wants. Why can't you give Ella what she wants, what YOU want, and not what's good for the fate of the galaxy and blah blah blah?"

Victor's frown shifted, making the third completely different variation on the expression he'd used since the conversation started. "There aren't any secrets in my head, Ensign - what you, and everyone else, see is what there is. There's no reason to repress anything to make people like me, no need to hide something when everyone that walks within two meters of me knows what I am. Whether I deserve to be what I am or not isn't relevant either; I am what I am, and I accepted that a long time ago." He tilted his head to the side, the frown erasing itself as he did so. "And people do get what they deserve, Ensign. That's what I do."

8-ball yawned. "Yeah yeah. Look, I can see a couple minutes talk in the corridor isn't going to change your 'I am a monster' mindset, and I do actually want to play pool sometime tonight, so I'm gonna go in now. I'd invite you to play with me but I'm not entirely sure how you'd react when you lost, not to mention you'd say no anyway. But I have no intention of letting this go either---and if you think Ella's going to, you're even stupider than you look. Which actually isn't all that stupid but that's beside the point. So go ahead and go brood away or go slice up some chickens or whatever it is that you do on your off time and I'll figure out something to get through that thick head of yours." She pursed her lips. "Introduction to a sense of humor would probably be a good start."

8-ball grinned at Victor's mostly expressionless face, even as she still felt slightly uneasy around him. She tilted her head to the side, mimicking his posture, and let herself be still for a moment, the manic grin fading quickly to match his masked look. "And you'll never convince me on the whole karma notion, darling. The way I see it, people just get luck, most of it, bad. People don't get what they deserve. If they did, the universe would be depopulated by half, and all those murderers and child molesters and evil people who go free would be burning slowly in a living hell and hopefully never die." 8-ball kept serious for another moment and then broke again into her ear-splitting grin. "See you later, Lt. Broody," she said and turned towards the holodeck.

"Ensign," Victor replied as she moved past him. He paused, and then turned. "Wait a moment," he continued as he followed her into the holosuite.

8-ball stopped for a second, surprised, but then shrugged and engaged her holodeck program. The room was instantly transformed into a dark, seedy bar, with a stage on one side, drinks on the other, and the pool tables dead center, silent and waiting. 8-ball turned around to look at Victor, curious to what ever so slightly changed facial expression he would wear now, and tipped him a wink. "You sure this is your scene, Vicky?"

"I ran over your time, Ensign," he explained, apparently unconcerned with the surroundings or her unorthodox abbreviation of his name. "I owe you - if you'll give me a minute, I'll fix it so you don't get shorted."

8-ball sighed. "You're not an easy man to tease, Vic. Go ahead; fix away. Will you let me buy you a drink or are you more of a wham bam thank you ma'am kind of guy?"

Victor frowned again, but didn't respond to the question. Instead, he called up the control panel, worked it for a moment, keying in enough time to cover his overrun, and then coding it was 'Critical Security Training' to lock it out and reset any other scheduled times back automatically. He turned, still frowning, looked at her for a moment, and then said, "Coffee, black."

"Vicky, honey, we're in a BAR. Coffee is what you're supposed to order the day after." When it appeared Victor was just going to stare at her, 8-ball sighed and walked up to the bar. "I'll have a Jedi Mind Trick, and my ever not so interesting friend here will have coffee. Black."
She turned to Victor. "Are you a James Bond fan? I bet you are. I can just see you stalking around, saying "I'm Krieghoff. Victor Krieghoff.'" The bartender got their drinks and 8-ball handed Victor his coffee. "So, what shall we do, Vic? Shall we sit down and talk and drink while I beat you over the head with a beer can to try and knock some sense into you about Ella? Or would you rather lose at darts? Or pool?"

"I don't drink," he replied. "Bad idea." He looked around the interior of the bar she'd recreated in the holosuite. "Where was this duplicated from? It doesn't have the feel of something made up by an artist."

"It's called the Wicked Scarecrow... don't ask." 8-ball plopped down on a bar stool and looked around. Everything was authentic, the bar, the dart boards, the types of alcohol. It was one of the very few things she had ever been meticulous about creating. She had even made sure the posters were tilted and half falling off like they had been in the original bar. Everything was authentic, except the people in it. "It's a bar I used to live in and work at in New York before I hit the Academy.
Big Man... the guy who owned this place... liked the feel of older looking bars, not some of those modern, boring, clean, shiny, and silver bars you find where everything's as sterile as a hospital room." She finished off her drink, ordered another one, and listened to the jukebox play, "Sympathy for the Devil". "I love this song," 8-ball murmured, and then glanced at Victor. "So, bad idea alcohol, huh? Let out the inner inhibitions to be all primal and evil and scary scary bad man?"

Victor set his coffee down and looked at her for a moment. "I assume that you've heard some of the stories that get passed around about me, Ensign. Unlike Gray, you might even believe some of them - and you should. Enough of them are true that it's not a good idea for me to do anything that will let the sheep I watch over see any more of what I am than they need to."

8-ball shrugged. "Actually, I haven't heard all that much about you---I haven't made all that many friends on board. I wonder if it's my hair.
Maybe I should do something with it. Anyways, what I have heard I am willing to believe is possible, if terribly unlikely. But, kid, it doesn't matter what I think about you. Ella... who, if you ever end up smooching, might appreciate if you start calling her by her first name... thinks you're just the coolest thing since sliced bread, and she's a big girl. You got to let people decide for themselves who they trust and who they love. It's Ella's choice, not yours or mine, and besides the fact that you still creep me out a little and you're in serious need of an infusion of humor, you seem pretty okay to me. Hurt me and I'll think otherwise, but I wouldn't suggest fighting me to prove you're the big bad wolf... at least, not here. I've got home field advantage. Now, as for the drinking thing, okay, fine, just be that way." 8-ball finally paused for breath, took a sip of her drink, and then looked at Victor. "SHEEP? What are you, Little Bo Peep?"

Victor picked up his coffee, sipped it, and waited for her to finish, reflecting that he seemed to be the only person aboard ship - besides Gray of course - that understood his relationship with the engineer. "I don't fight for fun, Ensign," he said quietly. "Or to impress people, or any of the other stupid reasons people fight each other. There's no point in it." He took another sip of coffee. "I'm no shepherd, either. I'm just the tiger that was set to keep the other predators away from the sheep aboard this ship."

"Yup, Little Bo Peep, that's what I'll call you," 8-ball said dryly and studied Victor. Besides Ella, this was the longest conversation she'd had with anyone on Galaxy in awhile. "You think you're the only tiger, don't you? Everyone else, me, Ella, hell, even the Captain, you think of as your little protectees?"

"There are wolves aboard, at least one other tiger once, but yes, most of you are sheep, even if you don't know it." He sipped at the coffee again. "And you *are* mine - Starfleet gave you to me when they assigned me here. Until I'm transferred or die, no one can hunt - or kill - any of you without coming through me."

8-ball smiled. "Well, you're a good person to hang around then. But maybe one of these days I'll just come around and save your life, and then you can, like, owe me or something. You never know, Bo Peep, you never know." She drained her second drink, considered ordering a third, and decided against it for the time being. "So, you're going to totally ignore everything I've said to you, aren't you?"

"I heard everything you said," he replied in his context-free voice.

8-ball sighed. "Don't be a little shit. Hearing and ignoring aren't the same thing at all, and just because I'm flighty, I'm not also automatically stupid. Look, if you want to be unhappy for the rest of your life, that's up to you; I'm pretty sure people can be responsible and smile at the same time, but, y'know, your life's your life, so whatever. Play Lt. Broody Bo Peep and protect your flock and it doesn't really make much of a difference to me anyway because I sort of like you but not, y'know, that much. But the thing is that you're also hurting Ella and that's not very Bo Peep like you at all. So you should figure something out, or go talk to someone who can actually get through that thick skull of yours. God knows I was never meant to be a counselor."

Victor put his empty coffee cup down carefully. "Nobody wants to see me smile, Ensign," he said quietly. "The people that do generally don't see anything else ever again. I'd prefer to keep that to people that deserved it."

8-ball shook her head. "Kid, you make me tired. All right, I'll surrender for the moment, but only because I wore this dress for the specific purpose of hustling and I'd like to put it to good use." She hopped off her stool and looked at Victor. "Maybe I'll get you a puppy for Christmas or something. Try to cheer you up. Or would you just eat it?"

He shook his head. "I don't do well with animals - they see what I am better than most people do. Children too." He stood and reclaimed his gun-case. "Good luck, Ensign."

8-ball gave him a mock salute. "You too, Lieutenant Peep," she said and left for the pool tables.

"Telepathic Interlude"

by
Lt Cernu K'rn - Asst Chief Science Officer,
Biotec/Subspace specialist
Ens Tarin Iniara - Operations/Engineering Officer,
Backup Telepath

~Sir, one question if I may,~ she began telepathically. ~I have never before communicated with an entity such as Vr'lu. Are there any specific protocols or anything I should be careful of when attempting contact?~ The thought of communicating telepathically with a bioship made her nervous, but the more she considered it she realized it was also a very exciting prospect.

With a gesture to his own temple he tapped once and she felt a hesitant touch, like the offering of someone's hand for a handshake. But in this case, it was like a giant offering its hand for her to shake, so large was the mind behind it.

Iniara's eyes widened as she looked at Cernu. Suddenly she felt very small, like an awe-struck child staring up at a towering figure, and hesitated slightly. But with a little bit of effort she relaxed, reaching confidently out to the presence she felt.

And both an enormous and complex mind and the mind she had come to recognize as Cernu touched her. It seemed that Cernu was in the "foreground" and the other huge mind was "behind" him somehow, as if Cernu were acting as a buffer.

~I am standing between your minds to acclimate you to one another until I am sure that Vr'lu knows how to speak to you and you also know how to speak to him~ Cernu told her telepathically, confirming the reason for the strange mental orientation. ~I will filter some contact to you now to see if you understand him~

~::negative:: <image of smaller scanners and equipment being attached to the bulkhead>~ A feeling and an image popped up along with something else; whispering she couldn't make out yet. There were at least ten distinct, but similar, mind-voices but they all seemed too smothered for her to hear them.

Iniara closed her eyes as the images came to her, finding it easier to concentrate with the absence of visual stimuli. Her first instinct was to try and sort through the voices, to try and make sense of each one. But then she went back to the visual images, which were much clearer in her mind. A bulkhead, equipment being attached to it, and the general feeling that this was not something good. So Vr'lu didn't like interfacing with machinery. Not surprising. To Iniara it felt almost like the bioship's equivalent of Borg assimilation, having non-organic machinery attached to its organic self by the little drones that flitted about in his interior. No wonder he found it unpleasant.

~I understand,~ she replied, suddenly thankful that she wouldn't need to connect any non-organic equipment to Vr'lu on this mission.

::pleasure/appreciation:: <image of her from three directions, an energetic overlay and strange alien symbols scrolling up the right side in green light> There were other minds that time, two others at least, all connected and integrated. ::curiosity:: <image of Iniara's knife, rendered in three dimensions, as if it had been scanned and was not still safely put away, with more symbols> THIS time the symbols almost made sense- a metallurgical analysis?

The images of herself projected in her own mind were a bit surprising. Not really unnerving, just a bit unexpected. Iniara slowly became aware of the multiple minds in the telepathic link and tried to become cognizant of each one separately, but didn't feel confident enough yet to try reaching out to any of them.

She studied the green symbols, trying to make sense of them. Soon after an image of her boot knife appeared, and at that point the green writing almost seemed to make sense. She wondered what was so important about it. Slowly she bent down, pushing up the cuff of her uniform pants so that the knife's handle was exposed. It looked like a standard issue Starfleet item, but upon closer inspection it was a bit smaller, with the symbol of Bajor imprinted on it.

She turned to look up at Cernu. ~It's an old knife back from my days in the Resistance. I hardly go anywhere without it,~ she explained. ~It's comforting to know it's there,~ she added after a moment, unsure if bringing a weapon on board was going to be a problem.

~There is no problem~ Cernu told her ~even now I am armed in several ways. Vr'lu was curious what significance the weapon has to you as it is both well-used and worn~ And then he "stepped aside" in her mental vision and allowed the huge mind to contact her directly.

Like a waterfall it fell on her and with the softness of tons of down feathers, it rained around her, huge but delicate and oh so gentle. But like the feather, it carried a charge that electrified her at the moment of contact, expanding her awareness and leaving her body behind.

She slid through space on what felt like fins that she waved and shivered, adjusting course and speed minutely as she headed for a distant point she could sense easily. She sensed life, of sorts, small lives that seemed to have no purpose and no real minds for her to contact. A she could see their shape, her analysis-mind taking the data and creating images, readings and compiling various values collected from Science and Combat to tell her what it wasn't.

Stellar radiation pinged and squealed off of her hull as she slithered unless through the solar winds, her cloak securely about her and hiding her from the sensors of the Breen as they watched in their cold little worlds.

At the thought of the Breen, a tremendous amount of data on the species, including biometric readings and scans taken of them both alive and dead came into her thoughts from both Science and Combat, providing tactical information and assessing their threat index low on the scale.

And suddenly, she was back in her own mind, her own perceptions and wholly Iniara once again. ::thankfulness:: ~I am pleased we will be able to communicate without harm to you~ came a very deep rumbling mind-voice.

As she returned to the confines of her own mind Iniara slowly became aware of her immediate surroundings. Every muscle in her body had involuntarily tightened; spine ramrod-straight, arms held tightly at her sides, as if she was standing at attention before an unseen commander. She concentrated on her body for a second, beginning to relax.

~That was...amazing.~ Once more she felt like a tiny child speaking to a giant. She was back to her old self, no longer a part of the expansive mind, but something felt different. She imagined that the contact with Vr'lu, brief as it had been, might have awakened some unused part of her brain. It was certainly an interesting prospect.

~I look forward to future communication,~ she began. Then, before she could continue, she became aware of something else. She seemed to be projecting appreciation, contentment, even excitement. But her empathic abilities were normally as active as cold, lifeless stone. She'd had a hard enough time receiving others' projected emotions, now she suddenly found herself able to project her own.

~It seems you have awakened a dormant part of my brain. For that I am truly grateful.~ And slowly, without trying, she once more became aware of the minds gathered near her.

~You will find, young one, that there is other knowledge available to you now as well~ Cernu advised her, projected to her alone, using a intimate mode of telepathy she only now recognized. Knowledge, actually memory of how to do so, to erect personal barriers to prevent unwanted contact rose in her mind as well. The technique to touch non-telepathic minds, to communicate over long distances, to search for one mind in many, to speak to many minds and even to search memories in another mind. And she could tell it wasn't her own memories but that these memories seemed to be swept of all identity.

Iniara remained silent, both verbally and telepathically, as she ruminated over the influx of information. Her mind felt fuller, yet somehow more open. She began to process the information in her own systematic way when she felt the familiar tingling at her temples. Apparently she was reaching her limit for the time being.

~I need to rest for a bit. My telepathic endurance leaves something to be desired,~ she explained to both Cernu and Vr'lu.

::concern:: Please rest. I will not require your assistance for several hours <image of her rather inviting quarters and comfy bed>~ Vr'lu sent her with worldess assent from Cernu and he gently released her mind, dropping her mind down to her own normal perceptions.

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