"From Warrior To Engineer"
by
Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineering

LOCATION: Sakarian South East Hemisphere

Nara knelt down to look at the flower. It was still alive after all this. The rest of the land was dirt, rocks, corpses and blood. She stood and looked at her tired troop resting nearby. The ship was late and it was getting dark. She called over to her troop, “Conzalas!” A long slim man jumped up and ran over and stood to attention. Nara smiled, “At ease. Do we still have the communication device set up in the east?”

Conzalas frowned, “No sir. It was destroyed in the battle.”

Nara frowned. They had no supplies to set up camp. “How much daylight would you think we have?” She asked as she looked at the sky.

Conzalas looked up and said, “About 2 hours. Maybe a bit less.” He looked back down, “What are you thinking of doing?”

Nara looked at him and spoke softly, “The ship is late. I don’t want us waiting among the dead when dark comes. There’s no telling what creatures feed on them and may mistake us for being dead. We need to start walking.” Nara walked toward the rest of the group with Conzalas behind her. She realized there was a good 5-8 missing. She looked around the landscape and knew they were there somewhere. She looked to the living again, “We need to hike on to a different site.” With that she turned and began walking toward a plateau. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like a good compass.

About half an hour later, Conzalas ran up beside Nara, “Sir!”

Nara turned to him still walking, “Yes?”

Conzalas slowed his pace keeping with Nara, “The men’s morale is horrible. They’re still going, but there’s no—you know—pep in their step.”

Nara nodded. She didn’t know how to help them. Their friends had died and they were exhausted, hungry and thirsty after a huge battle. “Get them to think of something else. You’re the morale officer here.”

Conzalas stopped and started walking again when a third person passed him. He thought a moment and smiled and yelled, “Hey guys! What’s your favorite song?”

After a moment they all broke out singing. Except for Nara. She was looking ahead to the plateau. It was getting dark and they were nowhere near anything safe to hide in. Nara put her hand up to motion to Conzalas. Conzalas came to her motioning to the others to keep singing, “Yes sir?”

“I need Miles to run ahead toward the plateau and see if he can find anything.”

Conzalas nodded and went to get Miles. Miles was a nickname. He could run what seemed like miles. He was a good scout to send ahead. She wasn’t sure how much energy he had now, but he would do better than anyone else. When Miles came along beside her she smiled at him, “You think you can get at least 100 yards ahead of us?”

Miles nodded, “Yes sir.”

Nara nodded, “Good. Give your gear to me, and keep one flare on you. Light it on the ground if you find shelter. We can keep our pace but follow the light if it gets dark. Throw it if there’s trouble. We’ll come running.” Nara took his gear and nodded at him as he took off. She kept her eyes toward the plateau and the shrinking running figure.

Dark had settled in and Nara had ordered Conzalas to the rear and asked the he keep the troop singing. The singing had died down a little when Nara saw a flare on the horizon. She sped up a bit followed by weary troop.

When they reached Miles, his smile radiated from the flare. He had time to rest on the ground waiting for them. He stood and pointed to a cave. Nara ordered 2 men to go inspect it. They came back shortly saying everything was ok.

Nara had set up a rotating of watches. She and Conzalas took the first one. Conzalas asked after about 15 minutes of silence, “So you’re really going to a Federation ship?”

Nara looked down and nodded, “I’m expected to rendezvous with the USS Galaxy in two weeks.”

Conzalas shook his head, “How is it possible for one person to hold so many loyalties, one to the Federation, one to Betazed, one to…” He stopped mid-sentence seeing Nara’s glare. He knew that glare. He had said too much.

Nara spat out, “For one, I hold no loyalty to Betazed other than a planet of the Federation. And first and foremost is my loyalty to Sakaria. I am not abandoning this fight. We’re beginning peace talks.” Nara looked him with a softer voice, “Besides, it would be a nice change of pace working on a ship as an engineer instead of killing people and watching my comrades killed.”

Conzalas arched an eyebrow, “An engineer? That’s pretty tame Nara.” The look Nara gave him reminded him they were not in a situation to get comfortable and interact at friends, so he coughed, “I mean commander.”

Nara smiled, “I need a break. Besides it’s what I went to the Academy for and I’m pretty good at it.”

Conzalas stretched his arms back, “I betcha couldn’t fix the communications array in the east.”

Nara laughed, “I could if we had had time.”

The ship finally arrived within the next few days and Nara prepared for her new venture on the USS Galaxy.

"Last Minute"
Captain Elaithin Jii
Elaithin Toryl

Trust a teenager to wait until the last minute, Elaithin Jii thought ruefully.

Jordan had already departed for the Tertiary bridge, where she would function in the coming battle as Executive Officer to Jerri. He'd told her that he'd check in on Toryl, and he entered thier family's quarters to find the fourteen-year old Bajora boy sleeping on the couch, one arm absently hanging down the side, a PADD dangling from his fingers onto the floor.

To a parent, there are few things and simply... nice as watching one's child sleep, be they a newborn, or an often-irascable teen. Jii didn't much want to wake him, but he knew that Toryl needed to get to the shelter. It was silly, he knew, but he felt better knowing that the civlian shelter was located on the primary hull, which he himself would be commanding.
Irrational, perhaps - the boy wasn't really any safer on this part of the ship than he would be on the others. But it made the Captain feel better.

Try as he might, he still couldn't come up with a way to get out of all of this without a fight. If Miranda and Galaxy tried to take the long way, they'd be out of commission until the Breen, T'Kith'Kin, and Hyrdan Triad dropped the field on thier own, and the Federation would have no warning at all. Billions would die in the inital assault. What were the lives of his crew, and the Galaxy's, when compared to that?

Watching his sleeping son, he almost faltered, but he knew that other universe - the one where his choice of the safer path now would mean untold deaths later... that wasn't a universe he wanted his son to grow up in.

So much rested on the shoulders of the Hazard Teams, and the teams of Lieutenants K'rn and Ka'ranin. They had three chances. one of those was gone, with the dissapearance of Ka'ranin's team. Either Darion and Corgan would bring the field down, and then escape to Federation space with the time that the two Federation starship would buy them, or they would fail, and thier team would die... along with the Miranda, the Galaxy, and all those who would perish in the initial assault.

The stakes didn't get much bigger.

In a peculiar sort of way, it amde Jii feel just a little more.. alive. Then he looked upon his son once more, and decided that, perhaps, he could do with a little more boredom in his life.

Gently, he placed a firm hand on Toryl's shoulder, waking the teenager up in a manner that wouldn't startle him. Toryl pushed his long hair out of the way of his eyes, and looked up blearily. "Wuzzat?"

Jii smiled. "Come on, son. It's time to get to the shelters."

That woke the kid up. "A fight? Again?"

That brought a laugh to his father's face. "Seems that happens a lot, doesn't it?"

"You know, Keisha says that there's other ships in Starfleet that never get in fights." the boy teased his father, sitting up as he pulled on his shoes. "That they just going on boring survey missions all the time."

"Oh she does, does she?" Jii replied with a raised eyebrow, trying to remember just which one 'Keisha' was. The group of teenagers aboard the Miranda - save for Toryl, of course, seemed to often blend together.

"Yeah." the boy replied noncommitally. "Then another kid in class said that it was because you were a Bajoran, and that all of us were violent animals who couldn't control ourselves."

"Really." Jii replied ain a flat tone, wondering just who that little gem of racism had come from.

"Yeah. But I showed him otherwise."

Uh-oh.

"Toryl, what did you do, son?"

"Well, I hit him - right in the nose, and he fell right down. Just one punch." the boy practically beamed. "I waited till Mrs. Bliss had left the room - she wouldn't have understood, you know."

Heaving a sigh, Jii rubbed the ridges on his nose for a moment. "Son, he called all Bajorans violent?"

"Yeah."

"So you hit him?"

"Yeah..." and then a look of understanding dawned on the fourteen-yar old's face. "Oh."

"See the flaw there, do you?"

Toryl at least had the grace to look sheepish, and Jii just shook his head and chuckled. "Come on. We'll talk about this later."

"Somehow I thought you might feel that way about it." Toryl muttered under his breath.

Jii wouldnt' help but laugh again at that, as they left thier quarters for the shelter.

"Go"
Captain Elaithin Jii

The time was fast approaching, if Jaal's earlier estimations had been correct. Mentally, Jii ticked off everything form his on checklist. M'Kantu said that Galaxy was as ready as she'd ever be. Rogue and Vanguard squadrons, reinforced with releif pilots culled from the crews, and six combat-equipped runabouts had been deployed. The primary Bridge was staffed, with himself in command, Jack and Gail at CONN and Ops, the new Lieutenant, Phoebe Ivers,at Sciences, and Rayna at Tactical. Arel had elected to lead the counterintrusion teams that security had prepared. Enisgn Lanzo had taken the Engineering station. Abigail was also present, ready to lend a hand however she could.

On the Secondary Bridge, Jaal was seated in the command chair, with James Mitchell serving as his Exec. Circ was handling Ops down there, while another new girl, Liaana Diixe was at the helm. Reed at Sciences, Sanchez at Tactical, and Petty Officer Ooshagoold filling in for Engineering, he verified at his padd.

Which just left the tertiary bridge. Jerri was in charge, with Jordan as the Exec - Savel was also managing Ops, and with a Vulcan's precision, handling Engineering at the same time. Angelique at the Helm, Ariss at Tactical, Witten at Sciences.

This in particular was something Jii disliked about MVAM - it spread his senior officers around, forcing him to rely on younger, less experienced crew members. It was n't that those younger officers were bad - they just didn't have the experience of their department heads.

Not much to be done about that, though. Pressing the button on his armrest, Jii opened a channel to the other to bridges. "Miranda-One to Miranda-Two and Miranda-Three. Commence with MVAM separation, on my mark."

"Acknowledged." Jall came back from the secondary bridge, as Wolfson likewise sent an affirmative.

"Jack," the Captain said, stanind and moving towards the fordeck to stand between CONN and OPS. "Begin separation sequence."

"Aye sir." the OPS officer responded, tapping the controls into his console. The computer's alert briefly switched to status: blue, and that familiar voice reported off dry facts about the separation process.

"Magnetic interlocks disengaged." Jack reported finally.

Jii nodded. "Gail, bring us about. Jaal, Jerri - mark."

The primary hull lifted away from the rest of the ship then, looking for all the world like a deadly raptor. As she pulled away, the view on the screen shifted so that Jii could observe the separation of the secondary and tertiary hulls. When all was done, three starships stood in the Miranda's place.

Having stepped back to the Tactical arch, Jii looked as Rayne pulled up a current display of the Havras system. The T'Kith'Kin and Hyrdan vessels inside still acted as though they hadn't seen the Miranda and the Galaxy, though by now, they certainly must have. At the very center of the field lay thier base of operations, where the Hazard Team was even now preparing to begin thier mission of sabotage.

And all Miranda and Galaxy had to do was make thier enemies think that base was thier goal - not simply delaying them long enough for the Hazard Teams to meet thiers.

A single coded pulse was recorded then, a burst transmission from the Hazard Team consisting of one word.

That word, was 'go.'

"This is Captain Elaithin to all ships. Red Alert, shields up. Proceed into the asteroid field at best speed. Do what damage you can to our enemies, but remember that your priority is to simply stay alive. Those asteroids are the best cover that we could hope for. Go."

Dawson whipped her head around form the CONN. "You can't be serious, Captian. You want me to fly into the asteroid field?"

"They'd have to be crazy to follow us, wouldn't they?"

"They're not the only ones." the pilot muttered in reply. "Taking us in."

"Sir," Rayna spoke up then. "First wave of T'Kith'kin assault craft coming on approach. Rogues are moving to rendezvous."

"Soften them up for them, Commander. five-torpedo spread. Fire."

"Firing."

"The one where she's batgirl"
Commander Jerri Wolfson
Commander Jordan Elaithin

Jerri Wolfson looked for all the world like she had been in the midst of a rather delicate repair - which she had been - before being called first to the bridge and then to tertiary to take command. Part of her found it rather funny that she was placed in charge of the section that housed what Jack liked to call her 'home away from home' in Main Engineering. She rather wished she was there, keeping the ship together, rather than directing her movements. Then again, she would be more careful about directing her 'baby' than Jii would have been...right?

Jerri sighed and turned towards her best friend who was now her XO, "Remind me again why Jii decided that I'd best serve in command rather than in engineering?"

"Because the only other choice would be James, and seriously, who the hell would want him in command?" Jordan asked, looking at her friend and raising an eyebrow. "Cat needs to stay in sickbay. Jaal needs the bridge I can never remember the name of... Face it, Jer, you're the unofficial third officer, rankings be damned." Jordan popped her gum loudly as they stepped into the turbo life. She hadn't chewed gum since she was thirteen and went through a big hair 'Jersey Girl' phase.

"Do you have to do that?" Jerri asked, turning towards her and gesturing towards Jordan's current gum-infested mouth, "I'm trying to rant here, I think. Or maybe I'm trying to do my impersonation of Luke Skywalker - 'But I wanted to go to Tachi Station to get some poooower converters.' I haven't decided yet."

"Sorry. I'm craving a cigarette wicked bad. I've never even really smoked! I mean, one or two a month maybe, when Jii wasn't around or something, but never enough to where I ever craved it. Wicked bad, Jer, all I want right now is a cigarette and a heavily loaded cosmo. And of course, can't have one. Life is really cruel sometimes; so I'm stuck with strawberry flavoured bubblicious." She frowned at that minute, popping her gum again and turning her head toward her friend. "Who the hell is Luke Skywalker and where is Tachi Station? Is this a sort of Engineer's Page 6 or something?"

"It's from an old vid series called Star Wars. I'm surprised I haven't made you watch it , yet," Jerri replied, "It was another look at what a possible future might be. My best friend at Purdue introduced the films to me. He was one of those that could recite just about every line. It's rather hard to forget after a while."

"Mm. I live in space, sweetie," Jordan said. "I live in space, on a space ship; I live a space opera, I have no reason to watch one. And besides. Star Wars. It's that the -- 'a long time ago in a galaxy far far away'? Doesn't that connote it happened in the past? How could it be a look at the possible future?"

"Technicalities, it's all technicalities. Joe, that's my friend from college, insisted that Star Wars was a great look at how the future could be far different from any of the other idealized worlds created during the heyday of Science Fiction. I guess he rubbed off on me," Jerri shrugged before looking at Jordan suspiciously, "How did we get on this topic anyway?"

"I dunno. You were complaining about having to be in command. And I was complaining about bubblicious and not being able to have a smoke. And then you were complaining about me and... aw hell. I don't know." She shrugged. "What I want to know, is what is Jii thinking, making me your XO? I've never headed so much as an away team around here. What if something happened to you? And I'm pregnant for crying out loud. I always thought Jii was the protective -- I'm going to keep who I love as close as possible so I can protect them. What's with this sending me off to you?"

"I think that he's trying to make the point that he trusts you," the Chief Engineer said after a moment's thought, "Both in the possibility that you could command a starship and in that you will do the best you can to stay in one piece. I can definitely tell you that I'm planning on keeping my piece of the ship in one piece."

"If this is what trust is, I don't want it. I want him to keep me close because he wants to protect me. I like that as much as I hate it." She looked at Jerri and took her friend's hand. "You don't need any one to protect you though, do you sweetie?" She squeezed her friend's hand. "You manage fine on your own."

"Yeah, I do," Jerri replied,

"Yeah, I do," Jerri said quietly, "But that doesn't mean that I don't sometimes wish to give up that control. I've done it, sometimes, with Jack, but it's hard to overcome the tendencies of a lifetime. Being raised as an orphan tends to do that to you. But...Jordan...*why* haven't you told Jii that? He's the one that needs to hear it, not me."

'Even if it is the hormones talking,' she thought privately.

"When?" Jordan asked, eyes wide. "When, in the past two weeks have I had time to tell him any thing? I ask you that, much less sit him down and say: Jii. I'm scared to death here and don't know what I'm doing." She didn't realise what she'd said until it had come out of her mouth and she quickly covered it with a hand in as though trying to stuff the words back in. Reluctantly, she shrugged as though it was nothing. "Sometimes I wish I could be you Jerri. Could we trade lives sometime? Maybe? Just... switch. Maybe track down that anomaly or whatever the hell it was a year back or so. Switch things around."

"Hon, you don't want to be me," Jerri said, shaking her head, "Believe me there. I know it's been hard, but...well...there will be time after this entire mess is over to talk to him. If necessary, I'll hit him with something, tie both him and you down to a sofa together and let you work it out."

"Mmm... tied to the sofa..." Jordan said, grinning to herself as she looked up at the ceiling.

"Mercy," Jerri groaned, "Well, we've meandered enough. Let's get down to Tertiary so I can figure out just how I'm going to keep Jii from damaging my ship."

"Sweetie, he's not going to damage your ship."

"No?"

"No. The Breen and the T'Kith'Kin thingies and the other guys will be damaging your ship."

"Ah, but you see it all traces back to Jii. He's the one that gets us into these messes anyway." Jerri pointed out.

"Jii gets us all in messes of one sort or another, he's good at it, I think it's his purpose."

"Ah, so that's what that extra pip must mean. Trouble-magnet, perhaps."

"Maybe. I think it's something else. He was good at it long before the pip." Jordan sighed as they journeyed down the corridor toward the bridge. She rubbed her stomach slightly. "Bajoran children are insane, Jerri, I've grown two pant sizes in a week and change. Look at me." She smiled slightly. "Would you be the Godmother? I know it's a weird thing to ask in this situation. But I want no one else. It's a bit of a big thing in my family and... I don't know, it's nothing serious, I just kinda.. want to ask. Now."

"Now. When we're about to go into battle. You ask me that now? And you think I'd say anything other than yes? Of course I would," Jerri smiled, giving Jordan a quick hug before heading down the corridor, "Besides, it'll be fun to spoil the kids. That's the fun part of being a godmother, or even an Aunt - you get the rile them up, and send them home."

Jordan smiled slightly. "It gives you a small motivation to stay around, just in case things get tough."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere," Jerri reassured her friend before she stopped just shy of the door leading to the tertiary bridge, "You ready for this?"

"No. Not at all. But, what can you do? We have to save the Federation."

"Just call us super heroes."

"Okay. But I claim Batgirl. You can be Robin."

"You'd make a better Phoenix or Shadowcat, actually. I should be Batgirl, especially since I do know how to make all sorts of cool toys. Could you imagine a better Bat Cave than Main Engineering?"

"Ooh, good point. And Phoenix has better clothes." Jordan winked. "I love you sweetie, okay? Don't forget that. Now, let's get this thing finished."

With a nod as her only answer, Jerri stepped onto the bridge that was now hers to command.

"Not Getting Paid Enough"

Ensign Sh'laran
Flight Control Officer, USS Galaxy

--Main Bridge, USS Galaxy--

Antennae twitching, Sh'laran sat in agitation at the helm console on the main bridge, ignoring the piercing gaze of Commander Henderson. He had spent years in the Andorian Defense Forces and the Federation Starfleet, and thus, this was by no means his first taste of combat; it wasn't even his first experiance as a pilot in combat. Mind you, none of the previous vessels had been quite this large...

To port, Miranda was launching her fighters and spliting into MVAM. He wsan't really sure how exactly the concept worked, nor did he particularly think it was a good idea to split a ship into several pieces. Taking the Galaxy forward, he watched as the Miranda's primary hull entered the asteroid belt. Eyebrows raised around the bridge; what in the hell was Eliathin thinking?

The tall Andorian glanced to his right at Geluf, sitting at ops, and said aloud, "Well, it certainly has the element of surprise..."

Nervous half-hearted chuckles peppered the bridge, and he took aim for the Hydran and T'Kith'kin fleet, hoping like hell that the tactical officer was a good shot. If not, he was going to have his work cut out for himself trying not to get this damn big target hit. Why couldn't he volunteer for a Defiant-class? They were so much easier to dodge salvos with. Getting around salvos in a Galaxy was rather like trying to dodge a bullet when the gun is pressed to your temple.

As if on cue to his thoughts, the first shot hit dead on the center of the primary hull, rocking the great vessel. From behind, Sh'laran heard the tactical officer mention that shields were holding. The Andorian rerighted himself in his seat and muttered under his breath; "I'm not getting paid enough for this shit..."

That was when all hell broke loose.

The first shot had been a comparatively minor one. Suddenly, it seemed as if half the enemy fleet opened fire simultaneously on this one easy target, and several members of the bridge crew were thrown from their stations. The Andorian pilot threw the massive Galaxy into a corkscrew, trying to reach the other side of the enemy formation. Hopefully, he'd be able to bring the ship about and hit from the rear - assuming that they lasted that long. Clearly, the shields weren't going to hold quite so effectively now.

"Into Battle"
Major Veronique St Melisande,
Flight Instructor - Rogue 12
Doctor Felicia Khatroweena,
Commander, CMO
Aina Mason,
Civilian, 13 yrs old - Historian

Removing the cap from the old style ink pen, Aina started to write. The ink flowed into the cursive script as she recorded the start of the battle, "Miss Bliss says that the fighting is because the Breen didn't tell the truth and that they and other races want to cause trouble in the Federation, to hurt the Federation. I don't like the shelter. It's too dark and the lights are always going off. But mum said I had to stay here with Miss Bliss. I wish mum and dad were here."

=====

Veronique's gloved hand reached out and tapped against the panel, the cockpit console changed showing offensive and defensive data, the ECM software doing everything to make the fighter silent and invisible.

Her thumb on the control stick touched another button, the maneavouring engines roared as ionised plasma raced through the plenum chambers. The flare was bright and long, defeating the ECM, but it was for a race across empty space between some asteroids. The chance of someone seeing the flare was virtually zero.

Smaller attitude jets spurted flares of plasma as the Rogue fighter spun around and slowed to a stop. Her attention was taken by a glare of another fighter stopping just ahead of her. "Been a while, eh Babygirl," she transmitted on a tight comms channel.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," came the retort.

Veronique smiled, Lieutenant Dana Glaisten from CONN was one of the volunteers to help increase the numbers of Rogue Squadron. The woman was short, her babyface and blonde hair, her call sign was obvious. But her folder showed that she had some aptiude and had some hours in a fighter.

As she looked over to the left, in close formation, on the other wing was Slayton. The newest of the Rogues. Barely off position, even with the breaking maneaver showed a good level of skill.

The console showed that the T'Kith'Kin and Hydran fighters coming in. One of the enemy squadrons started to break off and headed towards where her and her wingmen were waiting.

"Rogue 12: Bogeys at eleven left, range twelve thousand. Lets go for them people."

=====

Cat kicked the sensor cluster control column, she had spent the last few minutes retrying the calibrate the surgical bed in the primary OR. Gerard, the med-tech had an access panel open, diagnostics tools attached trying to find the glitch. Everything was ready and then the Medical Computer gave warning of an error in the Primary OR.

"We can't have Number One down - damn machine. I'm spending more time fixing machines than I do people," griped Cat.

Gerard looked back, "You certainly must have a knack. What ever you just did got it back up on line, all within parameters."

Cat glared at the console column, "Make sure that think doesn't go off line again." She stormed out of the OR. With the upcoming battle, she did not want to have to worry about some machine going on her.

"The Imminent Death of 8-ball Hunter"
By:
Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter,
USS Galaxy

"Ensigns Terrik, Barnes, T'Pol Hunter, Commander Suder. Report to the Battle Bridge immediately."

8-ball stopped dead in the middle of the corridor.

~T'Pol Hunter. . .Battle Bridge immediately~

"Aw, fuuuuuuuck," 8-ball muttered to herself.

This was not good. This was so very very not good. The ways in which this was bad could probably be made into a cute little list.

Even as 8-ball started to run to the nearest turbolift, the list started forming in her head.

1. Lots of people, if not everyone on the ship, were going to die.
2. In situations like this, it was very rare for everyone on the Battle Bridge to survive.
3. She was a science officer.
4. In comparison to the captain, commanderers, tactical officers, security officers, pilots, and anyone else generally needed on Battle Bridges during big big crises, science officers were relatively useless and un-important.
5. Un-important people on Battle Bridges do not usually have a particularly long life line.
6. A+B+C+D+E=Death to 8-ball Hunter

"Peachy," 8-ball said to herself and looked down at her blue uniform, which she could imagine was just waiting to get torn and bloody and dead-ified.

"Well," 8-ball said as the turbolift doors closed, "at least it's not a red shirt."

"Swept Away" - Part I

Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer
USS Galaxy

Appearances:
Lt. Ven'r Nong,
Asst. Chief Tactical Officer

Ensign Miramon Terrik,
Flight Control

Ensign Claire Barnes,
Security Officer

Ensign T'Pol Hunter,
Science Officer

Commander Ethan Suder,
Chief Engineer, Battle Bridge XO

****

Deck 8
Battle Bridge
USS Galaxy

****

Daren Runako M'Kantu kept one sure eye on the Breen observer standing to his left. He was curious as to what the reasoning behind the Breen agenda was in pushing the Galaxy and Miranda into their coup d'état.

The trip to the battle bridge was mercifully short, and as the doors opened, the thoughts vanished from his mind as he settled into a focus on the matters at hand.

"Mister Nong, take your position at the Tactical console. Tie a direct line to the saucer section until we need to separate." The alien officer silently swung around the short railing without a word, the Breen observer following at a clip to match the gate of the Tactical officer.

Keying in his personal codes to power up the control arms of the chair, he immediately initiated intraship communications.

"Ensigns Terrik, Barnes, T'Pol Hunter, Commander Suder. Report to the Battle Bridge immediately." As the power displays fired up, the auxiliary lighting that dimly illuminated the bridge on standby gave way to the soft fluorescent lighting.

The called for bridge personnel arrived minutes later.

"Report on duty station-keeping, misters. Standard level 1 diagnostics. We can't afford any errors this day." The viewscreen sputtered to life. The Miranda was shunted aside as Tactical data streamed down the right hand side of the contoured display.

All systems greenlit positive as they ran through their checklists, verifying working systems on dormant systems.

"Go to yellow alert." The former soft lights dimmed to a resident shade of relaxed sky blue. As Daren watched his crew, all focused on the matters at hand, he felt a surge of pride. Nong, he knew was living for the moment, as if in death he had achieved the highest circle of being achievable even as he never did discover his life origins. He sent a silent signal to Elaithin Jii on Miranda that Galaxy was ready.

Miramon Terrik, the Bajoran, he had yet to interview, so he knew only what was written in his personal folder. Having survived the Occupation, he had no doubt Terrik would make use of this opportunity to take the Breen to task if indeed they were the enemy. He silently prayed his anger would not overcome his better judgment in this encounter. For this day, they all had to depend implicitly on each other.

Claire Barnes was drilling holes into the Breen observer as he stood up to pace to the forefront of the Bridge between the Operations and Navigation consoles. He did not know the Operations officer seated in what would normally be Curtis Geluf's place. His operations officer was out on the frontier somewhere, possibly gone to the angels with three other valued members of his crew.

Ethan Suder had taken up residence at the rear of the Bridge, busily passing commands back and forth between himself and his contact in main Engineering 28 decks below. The mobile shield concept still being tweaked no doubt. Daren knew his body language, though. He doubted the idea would work. Power curvature demands were simply too high.

T'Pol Hunter was at station-keeping on the Sciences board, sensors acutely tuned to scan the murk ahead for any sign of the enemy. Her sensors would be busy determining weaknesses in their defenses.

They were all so young. Thoughts of his daughter came unbidden. Perhaps he would see her again at the end of this day. Was her ka awaiting him among the stars?

He turned and faced his crew.

"This day, this hour, this week... we enter a battle for our very lives. I am not one for inspirational sermons delivered in your house of religion; I leave that to your own personal beliefs. This day, we are one. We move as one, act as one, live as one... die as one. I do not wish to invite you into this realm of life or death choices, as we defend the world of ones we would not normally call brethren, but we fight for the lives and honor of each other. We shall show them that Starfleet officers are not as soft as they presume." On the viewscreen behind him, fighter crews blurred by from Miranda and Galaxy as the Pathfinder ship blew its interlocks with a wisp of escaping air.

Finished with his 'sermon', he turned his back on the bridge crew to watch in awe as the Miranda split into its individual components.

The Vulcan/Terran science officer broke the silence. "Captain, incoming code burst from Hazard. Still no movement from the hostiles."

[This is Captain Elaithin to all ships. Red Alert, shields up. Proceed into the asteroid field at best speed. Do what damage you can to our enemies, but remember that your priority is to simply stay alive. Those asteroids are the best cover that we could hope for. Go.]

Instantly the bridge lights dropped to scarlet red. An omen, as the last two times this situation occurred, it did not go well for Galaxy at all.

Daren wondered if he would ever see the blue skies of his homeland as the yellow alert lights were swept away.

The tactical display on the viewscreen right suddenly swarmed with an obscene amount of blips, all coming in the direction of the four starships.

"Teach us that there is no glory in war, nor honor there that brave men should not abhor. Teach us instead, one for another our brothers to love. Shower us with thine Celestial message from above, that we plant seeds of peace evermore and make war-no-more..." Daren whispered to himself under his breath.

Miranda's secondary section took up position to the upper left of Galaxy, the tertiary their lower right giving the Galaxy-class starship a clear shot with the phaser cannon yet protecting the more strategic areas of the ship.

"Back onboard"
by Cmdr. Arel Smith

****

She'd taken maybe twelve steps onto deck 5 when the first strike hit.

Miranda shook, there was a loud pop! sound, and Arel Smith turned just in time to see a large piece of something come flying towards her.

Now, having staggard back and then fallen on her ass, she tried to look down at the shoulder that was possibly bleeding, undoubtly bruised, and very broken but the movement made the pain even worse. She could feel her arm dangling but she couldnt feel her hands.

It hurt. A lot.

And so she did about the only thing she could think of.

Just in case no one would ever have any doubt what a scream sounded like coming from Arel Smith, she howled in pain.

"Stay on the ship, Arel." She muttered later as they were shipping her off to Sickbay. "You'll be safe on the ship, Arel."

"Standoff at the Double K Corral"

Principal Characters:
Commander Felicia Khatroweena
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Miranda-B
Main Shuttlebay
Medical Team Processing Area

"No."

"S-sir, I h-have to..."

"No." Victor frowned at the ensign in front of him and suppressed the urge to smile. No sense in finding out what the latest Academy graduation standards for sphincter control were. "No doctors. No sickbay. No wasted time. Verstehen Sie?"

"I-I..." The ensign looked down at the scanner and its results and performed the action that had saved more ensigns from disaster than any other in the history of organized command chains: he passed the buck. "O-one moment, sir. My superior has t-to authorize t-that."

Her attention caught by the commotion, Cat looked over towards a lieutenant who was trying to bully one of her people. He certainly wasn't from the Miranda, or they wouldn't be doing what he was doing. Moving over to the two, "Lieutenant, is there a problem here?"

Victor glanced at the felinoid officer and nodded politely. "Keine Mühe, Commander. The Ensign here just told me that I need your signature to stop wasting your time and mine and return to the Galaxy.

"Really, Lieutenant. I don't see you wearing Medical Blue or you would understand the reasons why this is happening?"

Victor frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly with the effort it took not to cough again. "I know why it's happening, Commander."

"Really, Lieutenant?" returned Cat.

"Weil dieses isn't mein Platz...." He frowned again, a slightly different expression. "Because, he repeated slowly, "this isn't my place, Commander." He was reverting to German again without meaning to - a sure sign that he was exhausted. Maybe he should have taken the Klingon painkillers again and risked the side-effects.

Cat didn't need to spend more than a few seconds of scanning the Galaxy officer, the scan was incomplete, but she didn't need to see more. She indicated to the medical tech to continue the scan.

Reading the name off of Krieghoff's medical notes that came with the scan, "Mister Krieghoff, I can assure you your place is not here. In just this first glance, you have broken ribs, internal bleeding and damaged lungs. No Mister Krieghoff, you're place is not here, but in Sickbay."

"Ich verstehe den, Kommander, aber dieses ist nicht mein Platz." Victor shook his head and frowned again. "I understand that, Commander," he repeated slowly, making certain the words came out in Standard. "But this is not my place. You are not my schafe... my sheep.... I have to be back on the Galaxy."

"Lieutenant Krieghoff, while you are on board this vessel, you become a part of my responsibility for the health of any person on this vessel. Until the worst of your internal injuries are stabilized and a member of the medical staff of the Galaxy officially takes over the case, you are here. This is not negotiable, I am not a civilian doctor, nor are you a civilian. Right now, I am your superior officer and you will follow my orders. You will go to Sickbay and in a couple of hours, your case will likely be transferred to the Galaxy.
But until that time..."

"Ich verstehen, Kommander," Victor nodded, then frowned yet again and translated to Standard. "I understand, Commander." His frown shifted slightly as he tried to remember the last time he'd had this much trouble talking in Standard. He hadn't been this bad since... since the Klingons had ambushed him over a year ago.

Cat had nodded to a couple of orderlies who had brought over a grav-stretcher, "Lieutenant, your loyalty to your duties, your crewmates, your ship and the Federation is admirable. But right now, your loyalty should be to your own body. Because if it isn't dealt with now, it just might fail you in the future."

Turning to the orderlies, "Get him to the aid station." Turning back to Krieghoff, "Do not cause my people trouble, they are doing what they can, they are doing it for you."

"I'm not trying to cause trouble, Commander. Wenn ich war, würden Sie wissen."
Victor shook his head and repeated the last part in Standard. "If I were, you'd know." He shook his head again, and this time failed to suppress the cough, leaving a pattern of blood droplets on the Commander's uniform before he could get a hand up.

"Traurig... sorry, Commander," he apologized. He made a face that caused one of the orderlies to retreat a pace, waved the other away, and settled himself on the stretcher. After a moment, and a look from Khatroweena, the two orderlies moved the litter off skittishly, as if afraid that Victor were going to leap from it and tear their throats out at any second.

"Relax Lieutenant, my people will look after you." Cat turned ready for the next emergency.

"Let's Go"
Cmdr Jaal Jaxom, Acting XO
(and mentions of the secondary hull bridge crew)
USS Miranda

==Secondary Hull, USS Miranda, Bridge==

"Steady as she goes Lieutenant Diixe." Jaal was standing just to the left of the operations console. He was too wound up at the moment to sit, plus he had the best view of the ship's status as displayed on the console to his right.

The Trill commander had his helm officer pull up even with the primary hull where the phaser cannon would do the most good.

Jaal sneered at the screen. 'We just gotta stay alive Elaithin said,' he thought. 'Easier said than done.' Although the Miranda's captain had gotten them out of other tight situations, Jaal couldn't remember one quite as tight as this.

He took a deep breath and surveyed his bridge crew in silence and wondered how Mitchell had gotten assigned as his xo. Well, no, he knew why. Elaithin knew that, for whatever reason, the Chief Science officer's attitude didn't seem to bother the Trill like it did others.

Sure, Mitchell was his usual surly self in Jaxom's presense and made his typical snide comments, but for the most part, Jaal ignored it. He had even earned a small degree of respect for the Bajoran especially since his escape during the time Admiral Ramsey had them brigged. James Mitchell was devious and sly. Those were qualities Jaal could appreciate being a former prankster extraordanaire. They were also qualities that could be used for their advantage.

Sanchez and Circidon at tactical and ops respectively were another comfort, especially the Xanthe woman at ops. Jaal knew she could handle ops as well as he.

Then came the relative unknowns...

The new guy, Reed, was at the science console working the sensors. Another new person at engineering. Ooshagoold seemed a bit on the naive side but she knew her way around a starship well enough. Jaal carefully observed them wondering how they'd react once the real action started. He had faith in them. He had to.

Diixe easily manuevered the ship around the floating rocks. The shields were up, but that wouldn't necessarily prevent damage if a large enough asteroid impacted.

The secondary hull of the Miranda moved into the asteroid field steadily her sensors strained to the limit searching for the Hydran/T'Kith'Kin fleet.

It was agreed that the enemy wanted to capture the Federation vessels in tact and use them against Starfleet. That meant boarding parties if the shields even started to flicker. Jaal couldn't decide what was worse, getting the ship blown out from under you, or being phasered to death on your own bridge with your final thought being your ship would be used to attack your home.

Jaal shuddered at the thought. He'd done the best he could to prevent that from happening. Being a former resistance fighter, Mitchell was the first choice to lead the repelling attack should the secondary hull get boarded. No one on the ship was unarmed. It was even insisted medical personel carry at least hand phasers with them.

And should things get worse from there, Jaal was prepared to activate the ship's self destruct protocols. He shuddered again at 'that' thought. He dreaded that the most but the more he thought about it, the more likely it may have to be done.

"Commander," Yashanti started tersely, "We're getting sensor readouts of multiple targets dead ahead." A second later, "The other ships confirm."

The torpedo bays were already locked and loaded. The phasers were powered up and the cannon was fully charged. There was only one order left to give.

Commander Jaxom swallowed hard. "Let's go."

"Calm......"

by

Ens. Stel Ikmar Jonran,
Sec/Tac officer

Possible appearance of a Brikar or two.

Primary hull,
Deck 24,
Patrolling near Sickbay

Stel was well armed. A type III phaser rifle, in is hand, and a type II hand phase in a holster. There was a possibility of boarding opperations, so he was allowed to take his saber as well. It was in it's sheath, which was attached to a belt for that purpose.

~Why the hell did they take me out of the Tertiary bridge? Surely I'm a good enough tactical officer? Well, no matter. I was told to expect boarders, and while I'm pretty sure it would be best that there aren't any, I would be interested to see these "T'kith'kin."~

He slowly stalked the halls. The ship had just recentely seperated into it's 3 component peices. The concept was tested by the KRSN, but ultimately deemed a failure and not worth looking into. ~I suppose the federation must have figured out the secret. It still doesn't feel like the best idea.~

Having been called into alert without warning, Stel was just in his replicated uniform. The one he had custom tailored by a Kless tailor prior to the coup.

He stopped for a moment, almost soothed by the darker halls and the pulsing red glow of the alert lights. His mind drifted for a moment, but a feeling of alertness and duty returned and Stel stood up straight, adjusted his uniform and rifle strapped and continued to walk the halls.

Every battle has an ominous calm preceeding it. At least every one for Stel. The halls were cleared of nonessential personel and civilians. There was no one in those hallowed halls, but the occasional fellow security officer. The darkness of the halls made them seem cold, univiting, the red flashing glow bothered his eyes slightly, thankfully the goggles were able to properly compensate.

He continued to walk in his patrol rounds, saluting anyone who passed him out of respect. Starfleet's standard salute was a little hard to get used to, with his being used to the standard KRSN salute of displaying one's clenched fist in front of ones self. Called the strength. Though the Kless where generally a peaceful race, they had no intention of being beaten in a fight because of it. 'Walk Softly, Talk first, fight hard.'

So far, Starfleet was just like this. Too bad the bulk of Federation Species were diurnal. Going home would have been nice, if it didn't mean certain death. While it was declared he was forbiddon from just Kless'sha'neranu chances are there were Denrick agents only every world, just waiting to assassinate an enemy of the crown. So Starfleet was the only choice he had, and now it looked like it was about to kill him, With the KRSN, life was simple. Borg and Hirogens. Starfleet's enemies were numerous, and ruthless.

The battle was coming up.........the storm was about to hit.

OOC: backpost before the battle.

"sedating Breen part two"
by
Trevor as Cat
and
Koen as James A. Brooke

"Cat, you have a moment," Brooke asked, upon seeing his superior officer.

Turning to her ACMO, "Yes James?"

"I've started a small project with those Breen we have in custody," he explained, "Jaal wanted them under constant sedation, and I've taken the liberty of getting some blood and tissue samples for analysis. We don't have enough information on them, and it's probably one of our only chances of studying life Breen, even if they are sedated."

Cat gave a slight half smile, "You need to dig a bit deeper into the database James."

"What do you mean," Brooke asked. He had already asked for all information about the Breen.

"This will be the second time that I've had a chance to look at them. But this is the first time I heard that we have Breen in custody." Cat frowned.
Tapping her badge, "Cat to Jaal: I understand that we have Breen Prisoners.
I want the environment set to below zero celsius."

"Heh," the Trill snorted, "The brig is already set at minus one. That's as comfortable as I'm willing to allow them to get."

Cat nodded to herself, "Thanks Jaal, Khatroweena Out!"

Brooke was wondering too why Cat asked something like that. It wouldn't make the Brig people happy, that was for sure.

"I don't want to rely on their armour. If those suits fail, imagine what it would be like to be in a cell that was set to hundred degrees celsius."

"You have a point there," he admitted, "it will make our work both easier and more difficult. Easier because without the suit, we can prod where we want, but we'll have to wear suits now."

Cat nodded, "I still get the shivers thinking about it. I had to do an autopsy on a Breen casualty when I was a Lieutenant on the Galaxy a few years ago. We had two injured Breen in Sickbay. Had to wear thermal suits all the time when checking them." Cat stopped and looked at Brooke.

"We never had to take consideration the need for anasthetics or sedatives.
Their biochemistry is totally different to the normal humanoid biotypes that we are used to. I would suggest the use of alpha wave inducers. Inducing the sleep process would probably be the safest course of action."

"I used one of the sedatives that were tried on the prisoners during the Dominion War," Brooke said, "but of course that can be changed."

"It really depends on the length of time. Long term sedation is dangerous, even with physiologies that we are familiar with. To add into the mix a lack of some basic fundamentals of the Breen. I'm not happy in taking that chance. James, look into the Alpha Wave Inducer option. If that is not satisfactory, then we'll look into sedatives. I might also suggest supplying light cooling suits and replace their armour. That will give a little bit of extra 'safety' if they decide to escape. Last time on the Galaxy, they did a bit of damage."

"Don't give them anything," Brooke said, "if they want to escape, it's their own risk. They know what they can expect in our ship." He was still angry about what they had done to shinta.

"James, I don't like what they did, but they are a sentient species and by the Caduceus you wear and the Oath you gave, while they are prisoners of war, they will have fair treatment and respect. They didn't respect our people or give them fair treatment, does not mean that we will follow their path of barbarity. The Federation is a hell of a lot better than that."

"And besides, will we, judge every member of a race, because of the actions of those in command of the military arms or the rulers of a government?"
Cat looked at Brooke.

Cat saw James expression, "I am a doctor James. The Hippocratic Oath and the Caitian Healer Ceremony I take very seriously. Sometimes, it puts me in conflict with my COs and even sometimes my own feelings. I am not stupid to believe in pacifism, but I believe in the sanctity of a life with dignity."

"I'm not saying that I won't help them," Brooke said, "but what I'm saying is that I won't give them anything that can help them escape and damage the ship. So with the temperature in the brig dropped, they can do without suits, and therefore don't need one. Given the fact that if lifesupport fails, we'd all be dead anyway, I don't think that it will really matter if it's from overheating or freezing."

"I think we may be arguing at cross purposes James. Let's agree to disagree on this one at the moment. Like I said, examine the Alpha Wave Inducer option first, if that does not get satisfactory results, then we'll look at a sedative schedule. Agreed?" asked Cat.

"Okay," Brooke said. He knew that the sedation couldn't go on forever, so Cat's option was the best one, and they would be out as well.

Cat nodded, "Ok, I'll let you get back to work and you get back to your 'patients.'"

Brooke nodded and walked of, to get all the equipment he would need.

"back part 2"
Doctor Felicia Khatroweena,
Commander, CMO
Cmdr Navarre Shinta CCO
Lt. James A. Brooke, aCMO

****

Sickbay

****

Cat walked into her office, her tail reflected her internal feelings, she had to use concentration to keep it off the floor or the last couple inches would drag. The padd with the casualty listing she let fall and clatter on to her desk.

She let herself fall into her seat and sighed, she picked up the padd again and quickly scrolled through the data. The Breen had been almost barbaric and inside of her a part of her was raging, raging against the supposed 'civilisation' to could even consider such behaviour.

This wasn't the actions of a few sentients, this was the condoned and accepted behaviour of a culture. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, her encounter with the Breen on the Galaxy and now this. Even the Klingons had a sense of honour, you had to kick the living 'shit' out of one, or prove your worth to get it, but they had one.The Breen almost considered everyone else pathetic inferiors, worst then even the Romulans. She had never considered a race to be destroyed, but if she had to give a candidate, the Breen would be it.

Soon her scrolling came to Shinta's medical notes made by Brooke. Feelings of guilt rose in her stomache, standing up from her chair, she headed out into the private wards, keeping the main wards free for the upcoming battle.

She checked the small biosigns repeater next to the door, Shinta was awake. Cat pressed the doorbell, and waited a few moments, before heading in.

"Come in." Shinta said. Somehow she was not surprised to see Cat, she had missed her friend earlier. Cat had always been her doctor, one of a few she trusted. "Have a seat." She said softly.

Brooke also entered the room. Sickbay would have to do without him and Cat for a while, but they weren't far, and it was quiet at the moment, mostly after-care, but he stepped in for a few moments, before the preparations for the upcoming battle."Both of you, what an honor."

"I just came by to just keep an eye on you Shinta. Just for a few moments. Well the both of us," returned Cat.

Cat didn't want to mention the fact they were in middle of preparations for a battle.

"That bad." She watched the CMO. "You look tired, Cat."

"As if you're bright and shiny," Brooke joked. In fact, he could use some sleep too, but there were too many wounded at the moment, and there could be some more before they would return to Federation space.

"You looked tired yourself, love. are you resting enough? Maybe you should take a break, and I can have a chat with your boss."

Cat gave a smile, trying to get Brooke out now would take a lot more effort. With the faults her ACMO had, Brooke was certainly a caring husband - and being a doctor...Shinta would never escape.

"You can rest for both of us," Brooke said, a grin forming on his face, "as compensation for all those times I had to do that."

"You should listen to you doctor, Shinta," agreed Cat.

Shinta felt a little disappointed, she really wanted to talk to Cat. And a little bit angry that James didn't do as asked. Yet she was too tired to fight. "Okay, you can stay. So how am I doing?"

"In general, good. The surgery of a couple of days ago, got the internal injuries. But I want to keep you under observation for the next couple of days. We've purged the drugs, but I just want to be sure. The rest of your injuries, the worst has been repaired, now it is time for healing, natural healing to take over. You went through a lot, your body will need time to recuperate."

Over both Shinta's and Cat's badges came a request from the Captain to head to the bridge. Cat wasn't that happy with the idea. While Shinta was one hundred percent, there wasn't a reason for her to go to the bridge. With the battle, there would be no way that Cat could keep her under observation.

"I'll meet you in the bridge then," Cat said to Shinta."Yeah." With difficulty she sat up, her whole body felt stif.

"Shouldn't we say to the captain that it's impossible," Brooke asked, "I mean, I don't think it's wise to let you go at the moment, whatever the big dude on the bridge might think."

"Cat doesn't seem to think it's a problem."

"I do actually. But getting you to stay in that bed is next to impossible. Besides, I am going to make sure you get back into bed right afterwards," returned Cat

"Okay." For once Shinta didn't feel much like arguing, she really was tired.

The fact that she wasn't reacting more, told Brooke a lot. But he wasn't going to argue, and Cat would also be there, to keep an eye on her. And he was sure that if Cat thought it was unsafe for Shinta to leave, she wouldn't have. "I'll guard the fort then," he said to Cat, "I'll stay here until you come back. If we have to go to MVAM in the mean time, you can take the secondary facility."

Cat nodded, "Sure can. James, give your wife some help. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay," Brooke said, helping Shinta up. He couldn't bring her to the bridge, but Cat was there, so she would keep an eye out.

OOC: backpost, when the planet team returned.

"back"
Cmdr Navarre Shinta CCO
Lt. James Brooke, aCMO

"look guys, it's not that I don't want to stay here, this has nothing to do with my dislike of sickbay. The team medic administered first aid. I really need to get back to work, there are a lot of people in distress." Just after finishing the sentence she vomited all over the stretcher.

Just then Brooke walked in, having been delayed by other matters (OOC: I'll specify these later, if necessary). "What's going on," he asked the doctor.

"James." She mumbled clearing her mouth. "Get me out of here!"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Brooke said, glancing over her injuries, "you're in no shape to do anything but stay here and heal." He didn't want to tell her just what was wrong, but he knew that she must be feeling a lot of pain. If he ever got his hands on whoever had done this, then that person - to use that word in its broadest sense - would need a lot of help to even survive it. When they were out of here, he would have to talk with a couple of contacts of his about doing something about the Breen.

"Don't worry love." She said. The adrenalin rush was still keeping her from feeling the worst pain inside her body, the wound the doctors could not even see. "I piloted the shuttle from the planet to the ship, I couldn't do that if I was really hurt. How about I see how my people are doing, and I coordinate for a while and then you can check me over?" Sounded very reasonable to her.

"How about I check you over right now, and if there's nothing wrong, you can go do whatever," Brooke said, taking his tricorder.

She knew it was a trap, yet if she refused they would now for sure something was dreadfully wrong. "Why don't you do a quick scan and then concentrate on the people who really need you."

Brooke was already scanning, and his rage grew, plain for all those he knew him to see. But he kept calm, because his wife, and others, needed him calm and focused. "Honey," he said, "you have quite some injuries. I'm actually surprised you managed to fly that shuttle."

"Willpower." A spasm of pain shot through her and she winced. "It's really amazing what you can do on willpower."

"Then you will need your willpower a bit longer," Brooke said, "because you're going straight to sickbay. And no fussing. If you don't, you could kill yourself."

"Okay then." She said as her strength was rapidly leaving. "Just so you and Cat can patch me up and in the meantime I can talk shop with Ry."

"Stretcher," Brooke called. He had finished the quarantine scans, and they showed clean. Shinta wasn't carrying any diseases which might infect the rest of the crew. Now they had to get her in sickbay, on the operating table. He hadn't told her that yet, but it was necessary. Another doctor, probably Cat, would do the operation, as it was ethically not done for him to operate on his own wife. Waving a tricorder okay, but there were limits. Seeing that the captain was gone, he waved to get Cat's attention.

Shinta watched her hands which were starting to swell. The painkillers some medic had given her were also starting to wear off and they felt awkward without the nails.

Brooke had noticed that little detail as well, and it made him even more angry.

Shinta watched the light over her head while she was moved to sickbay. Now that everybody was safe what had happened was finally starting to sink in.

“Box up Love and replace it with Logic”

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe – Engineer
Galaxy

**Main Engineering**

So here it was at last, the call to arms. Dhani was still annoyed that her idea wouldn’t work, but she had faith that Suders would. The back up shield generators where all in place, on line and tested. They could intensify the density of the shields in one part, which would leave the other sections weakened. But the back ups would kick in if they went down. How long the back ups would last was another matter. And with the upcoming knowledge of how much fire power was aimed at them Dhani had to shut her self out to that scenario.

She continued to coordinate the requests that Suder sent from the bridge with the rest of the staff. She had her game face on now. These situations were not new to her; however young Suder thought she might be she had been here before. It seemed at times like these that she had been here too often, though she knew that she was no veteran.

As she bustled around engineering relaying orders and carrying them out herself her mind cast back to Earth and the orbital bombardment that almost crippled them during the Dominion War. She cast an eye around Main Engineering and at the faces of her co-workers. She remembered that back on Earth she could name everyone in her department, and a few in others. Her memories of Naut sailed through her mind, all the personal logs she had listened to, blaming herself for their deaths. Chastising herself for not knowing any of them better. Feeling like she knew them all just by listening to their perspectives on their own lives, their hopes and dreams that she blamed herself that they could not pursue anymore. But even through all that, she knew none of them, and no amount of promises to herself that if they made it through this she would take the time to get to know them. Because she knew that she wouldn’t. So many of them were going to die here, on this day, she knew that, it was certain. And if she knew them all the pain of loosing them would be worse. So, NO, she wouldn’t take the time. She wouldn’t let herself be hurt again by the death, the unneeded death, of those she loved. So she would just close herself off, she wouldn’t love anyone again. That would make it easier, right?

As the wave of enemy fire collided with the shields the ship shuddered and rocked slightly, she held on to the Master Systems Consol Display for support and saw the fluctuations as the shields fluttered under the volley. She paused for a moment looking at the damage readouts to the ship and remembered her training. Taking a deep breath she focused and systematically put all her feelings and emotions, into a box and sealed it in her mind. This was no time for it. The Vulcan’s may be a cold harsh race, but logic at this point was better.

As she scanned the room again she had a new perspective. She saw everyone as they really were. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one, or few. They, and she, were that few. Their lives didn’t matter. Their hopes and dreams, in the great schemes of things, were unimportant. She, like everyone else was a cog in the inertia of this machine; if they got broken they would be replaced. It was that simple.

Another volley hit the ship and she reacted as the cog.

Swept Away" - Part II

By

Captain Daren M'Kantu -
Commanding Officer

Commander Cassius Henderson -
Executive Officer

Lt jg Ven'r Nong -
Assistant Tactical Officer

Lt jg T'Rehn -
Operations Officer

Ensign Miramon Terrik -
Flight Navigation Officer

Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter -
Chief of Anthropology

*****
Battle Bridge
USS Galaxy
*****

Miranda's secondary section took up position to the upper left of Galaxy, the tertiary their lower right giving the Galaxy-class starship a clear shot with the phaser cannon yet protecting the more strategic areas of the ship.

Ven'r drew his tactical sensors to analysis-mode and tied into the main deflector, reading the subspace pulses coming back from the attacker's shield modulations. Until they got closer he wouldn't be able to derive shield harmonics but as they were deciphered one-by-one, he could target those ships. In the meantime, the T'kith'kin ships were bringing themselves to bear and had already brought their defensive singularity screens up.

The problem with the defensive system was that normally you just had to pound on them until the creatures generating them became tired and their strength and response-times began to give out. In the meantime the T'kith'kin ship would pound the hell out of your ship with bioplasmic weapons. But Ven'r had had some time to prepare for this little jaunt and thought they were out of Tri-C warheads, a clever trick often worked far better than a heavy hand. He only had ten of these modified torpedoes so if it didn't work, it'd be a total waste.

The Hydrans, however, he could take care of fairly easily with long-range weaponry. But he needed clearance to do what he needed to do.

"Sir- permission to modify one of the main deflector's modulation cycles to create a wide-area tachyon pulse?" he asked Captain M'kantu quietly, ignoring the Breen. "It should not interfere with normal shield operations but if successful, may give us a decided edge against some of our opponents though the window of opportunity will only be a few seconds at a time."

"Any improvement of our chances at this juncture can only be an advantage, Mister Nong.  Do it."  Daren had settled into his center seat, touching a finger to his lips.  It need not be said that with the forces they faced, the shields would not be much help anyhow.

His thoughts continued to stray to the Breen observer.  If they knew of the possibility of overwhelming forces, and their own planetary defenses were incapable of protecting them, how could they possibly believe two starships would?  To throw the scent of war from the Breen to the Federation?  To hope Starfleet would initiate a retaliatory strike in retribution for losing two starships?  Mayhap they did strategize that the Federation could lay blame on the Breen themselves.  Something did not feel right.  Pray it be to Allah Jii was wrong about this being a trap.

Miramon sat quietly at his station, waiting for an order to move the drive section in order to engage the Breen. He felt a little nervous - the saucer section only had the forward phaser banks as a defense, so most of the heavy weapons were located here on the drive section. And since the warp core was also on this particular section, the drive was both dangerous and equally vulnerable.

Since he was still in training for his upgrade to Galaxy Class (and below) Piloting license, he'd never had the opportunity to fly the drive section before - though it was well within the tonnage limit of his current license, since the saucer section no longer applied. Still, since he'd never done this before, the possibility that he might screw up was sitting unbidden in his mind. Now was really not a good time for anxiety.

T'Rehn occupied the station opposite Miramon.  She was quite comfortable on the Battle Bridge, having served regular duty shifts there for some time, and her precisely manicured fingers were already dancing skillfully across the smooth face of her console.  She remained completely silent, seeming to ignore everything around her yet waiting intently for her captain's orders.

The antithesis of T'Rehn's calmness stood at her station, attempting not to shake.  8-ball had never been on the Battle Bridge before and she was relatively sure that she was going to die.  Her face appeared calm as she watched the Captain. . .an old, Vulcan trick she despised and only used when it was absolutely necessary. . .but her hands trembled and she fought the urge to put them behind her back and say, "No touchie."

The viewscreen continued to scroll through the identified blips of enemy contact even as it superimposed its grid self over the silhouetted images of the separated Pathfinder crafts ahead of the Galaxy.  A marvelous site they were, even if they were bred for a combative purpose.  The typhooning tendrils of ages old nebulous gases from a long-dead star curtailed around the ships as they waltzed amongst the debris fields that would hopefully deter the Hydran fighter craft that continued to bear down on the ships, their T`Kith`Kin compatriots not far behind.

"Time to contact?"

"Two minutes," 8-ball said.

"Battle Bridge to Henderson."  The computer lagged a nanosecond as it rerouted connection protocols.

"Henderson here," Cass replied from the bridge, where we stood at the tactical arch, customizing the displays to handle both command and tactical functions.

"Be prepared to detach the saucer if we're to be drawn out of the asteroid field.  Focus the phaser cannon on any capital ships that draw within range. If you happen to eliminate any fighter threats along the path of trajectory, it would be a grand assistance.  We'll remain attached so that you may draw enough reserve power from the warp coils.  It shouldn't impede your exit later."

Cass felt unnatural for a moment. Much as the survival odds were increased by his assignment, it was against his nature to run from an honorable fight in the defense of the Federation. But he knew his duty to the civilians on the USS Galaxy as well. They, in a small way, were the Federation. "Aye, sir."

"Once the battle is met, make every effort to get that saucer out of this sector.  The cavalry is coming, so be sure you get a living record back to them of what happens here today."

That was a sobering thought. A living record of the tragedy that was probably about to take place. "I'll see to it, Captain. Give them what they so richly deserve for me."

"Good luck, Commander.  Let us keep this line of communication open as long as possible."

"Aye, sir. Henderson clear," Cass frowned wincing as he turned away from the communication to look at the forward viewscreen. Many of his friends were on the Stardrive. But at least he didn't need to worry about Rima Pennington being in tactical this time.

"Here they come..."  The owner of the comment was lost as the first splashes were felt on their shields.  Instantly, Rogue and Vanguard squadrons roared out of their cubbyholes in the fields while awaiting the prey.  Ripples could be felt as the inertial dampeners could not keep up with the numerous warp core breaches outside.

"Keep it steady, Mister Terrik.  Let's bring up the glare filters.  Mr. Suder, bring those mobile shields online."

"Steady as she goes. Aye, Captain", Miramon replied. Now was not the time to get unpredictable.

The Betazoid Chief Engineer shook his head back on the station he now manned. He felt he was needed more on the Engineering deck; why couldn't a junior officer be up here? His skills were useless on a terminal which anyone with a basic understanding of communications could do.

"Captain, the power curves are far too great to maintain any kind of protection for long. There's just no way to assure that the whole system doesn't come down around us." Warning lights lit up his board as critical systems were working overtime reinforcing the forcefields as they repaired exposed sections. "I can't guarantee there will be enough power to hold the protective fields in place."

"Just do what you can."  The ship shook continually without pause now.  The shields lit up in a brilliant flare as a small craft impacted and disintegrated against the forward section of the saucer as it curved away from the screen's horizon.

It had begun. The first shots had been fired, and there was no turning back.

"High as a kite"

by Lt. James A. Brooke, aCMO
and Cmdr. Arel Smith

****

Brooke was waiting, something he gladly did. Because as long as he was waiting, there were no wounded. But then the doors opened and a stretcher was brought in. Upon coming closer, he saw that it was Arel.

"I'll take it," he said. With her pregnant, it would be usefull to have a gyneacologist present as well. While the medtechs put her on a biobed, he took his tricorder for a first scan.

"Where am I?" Arel asked, blinking under what seemed like the harsh lighting of Sickbay. She had passed out...taken a momentary rest, she amended to herself...somewhere along the line.

"Sickbay," Brooke said. Better the short pain, he thought.

Arel tried to shake her head and nearly whimpered. Pthak of a shoulder, she thought. "Gotta get back to my post."

"You're not going anywhere," Brooke said, "untill I say so. And you've had quite some wounds."

"It's just a scratch." Arel said darkly, looking murder at Brooke and the nurse by his side.

"It's not," Brooke simply said, "and there's your unborn child to consider. Do you want to loose that?" He took a hypospray and injected it.

"Why don't you just let me worry about my own child for on....OW! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SHOOT ME WITH!?!"

"Something to calm you down and to take the pain away," Brooke said, "so that my staff and myself can work in peace and quiet, not interupted by someone without any medical experience who thinks she's smarter, but by not wanting to stay proclaims she isn't."

"Sounds more like your wife!" Arel shot back.

Brooke just ignored her comment and continued to work on her wounds.

"Gods, is there ANY man named James that isn't a total ASSHOLE!" Arel raged.

"I guess you're the one who should know," Brooke couldn't resist an answer.

"I'm going to kick the crap out of you for this; I swear I will. I'm..going to take your fucking syringe and...and..." Arel blinked hard and then frowned.

"What," Brooke asked, finding it quite strange to have Arel stop in mid-sentence.

"That's odd." She muttered to herself and then looked back at Brooke. "I just feel a bit...What was I talking about before?" Arel asked.

"Nothing special," Brooke tried, to see if she was playing some game.

"I feel really...weird." She frowned again and poked at her arm. "Hey, that doesn't hurt so much now!"

"It's the painkiller," Brooke said, but now he started to worry. He took his tricorder and did another scan. 'Great,' he thought when he saw the results. This he had to examine further. He activated the sensors of the biobed and started a more thorough scan. "Stay still for a moment," he said, "just one more scan."

Arel was too busy trying to snap her fingers on her left hand to notice. Her brow furrowed in concentration.

Her hand didn't really matter, so Brooke let her while following the scan results.

"You're not such a bad guy, Brooke." Arel said with a bright smile then. "And you make Shinta very happy which is good. Don't fuck it up or I'll have to sharpen my mek'leth on your bones, okay?"

"Don't worry," Brooke said, not really following, untill he saw the results of the scan. Some neurotransmitters were way above their normal levels, which gave the same effect as some narcotics. She was, to put it mildly, high as a kite. Some more scans gave the indication that it was the painkiller she had an adverse reaction on, but it didn't seem to have any effect on the child.

The security officer giggled."Worry? When everything is so pretty?"

"Keep an eye on her," Brooke said to the nurse, showing her the results of the scan, "I'd rather not give more medication, if it doesn't get any worse then this. If it does, call me. I'm going to put this into her medical file."

She laughed again even as the ship continued to shake and then stuck out her lower lip in an exagerated pout.

"Aw, I'm missing all the fireworks."

"Atonement"

Ensign Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer
USS Galaxy

Religion. If anything in this universe is illogical, that's it.

After we took our first steps into space, one would expect it to naturally vanish. The more the Human race became educated and technologically advanced, the less unexplained phenomenons remained to make people believe in a supreme being.

Take the Bajorans for example. They believed in something which turned out to be real. But superior as they may be, can you call the prophets 'gods'? And as an opposite examples, all those religions set up by frauds or corrupted elites who used their people's faith as their reins of control.

Isn't it possible that every religion started in one of those two ways?

I'm not religious, I don't believe in any faith – including my own – but one thing bothers me. The only thing that doesn't fit my grand paradigm about how this world lacks any supreme power and functions according to the laws of physics, is that unexplained fact that I am self-conscious.

****

Saul sat on his bed, gazing forward at nothing in particular. Today was another day of hard work, and like every other day on the Galaxy he finished it half a shift after most of his department went to their quarters.

And to add to that, he was very hungry.

It was, you see, atonement day. The most holy day in Jewish religion. The day when you're supposed to untie all your swears, oaths, promises and the likes, avoid eating and drinking for a whole day, and forgive everyone around you.

It was a day of contemplating, but how could one contemplate when his stomach is as empty as the space around the Galaxy?

For the last twenty minutes, Saul was throwing a Tennis ball he replicated at the wall. The ball kept bouncing off the wall, returning to Saul's awaiting hand. It was one way to keep himself busy, until sleep will finally take over.

"Bounce a ball." He muttered to himself, "Bounce a ball, bounce bounce bounce."

Bounce a ball, bounce a ball, bounce bounce bounce.

Three children, swimming in the ocean with red buoys attached to their small arms. They are all ten years old, and they're passing a large inflatable ball to each other.

The sea is a little polluted around them, but then again what's not polluted on Utrecht III. Besides, at the age of nine they're too young to have cynical thoughts about how the mayor handles pollution.

Bounce a ball, they sing, bounce a ball. Bounce bounce bounce.

Regrets? There's nothing to atone.

Saul, in cadet uniform, smirked at his tutor. He made himself a habit. No matter how much the fourth year cadet would help him, he was never going to say 'Thank you'. It was a matter of… not pride, something else.

Even if eventually, he will pass his first year only thanks to the older cadet's help, he was not going show gratitude. So? This wasn't something he needed to regret.

"I get it, it's easy." Saul said, even though his brain was about to burst after the simple exercise in Integral calculus. "The equation is the surface of a ball, right? Piece of cake."

"Perhaps.", his tutor replied, "You don't need tuition if it's so easy."

They both knew that for Saul, it wasn't.

"Kadima, gimmie more balls."

Bounce a ball, bounce a ball. Bounce, bounce bounce.

Water sprinkled around the Hovercraft, spraying the two cheerful occupants. Saul was standing next to the driver, a fellow fifteen years old. Behind them, a line of pink foam crossed the ocean.

"Arms. That's what's hot. Weapons, man. The fastest way for fortune."

Saul chuckled. "Two fifteen years old arms dealers. I can see THAT happening."

"Why not? You're a Bental, man, like, half your family must be in the weapons dealing business." The driver protested.

Saul raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to think of myself as a merchant Bental, not a crimelord Bental. Not that there are any Bentals who do anything illegal, of course."

Then, both of them said, in the exact same moment, "Everything we do is legit."

The two broke into cheerful laughter.

"I think arms' dealing without strong muscles to protect you isn't a good idea." Saul said after a moment. "We'll be an easy prey. People will buy from us, then kick our rears and take the money, or worse."

All of his youth endeavors didn't include weapons, drugs, or anything similar. True, some times some laws had to be broken in order to make a profit, but they were laws made be mere Humans like them, not some superior morality. So, no regrets, right?

"You're probably right." The driver said, eyeing him. He didn't see the children up ahead, but Saul did.

"Bounce a ball", they cheered, "Bounce a ball! Bounce, bounce bounce."

Saul was on the floor, wiping the blood from his nose. So he didn't hit back. If he would, his nose wouldn't be the only part of him bleeding. The other was strong, it was sensible.

Being peaceful and not hitting back was not something a mature man needed to regret, right?

"Your momma is a bitch, I'm going to drill her so hard It's going to come out of her mouth." Said the other boy. He was Saul's age, and was surrounded by several other boys. Saul rolled on his back, bringing himself to a crouching position.

He never was strong, so he became fast and cunning. This time, he was not fast enough.

"Say you're sorry." The strong boy proclaimed. "Say the Van Arenhems are much smarter than the Bentals."

"I insulted your family, you insulted mine, I think we're even." Saul replied, not mentioning the bleeding nose. He stood up, shaking slightly, and reached for the pole next to him in order to gain balance.

Around him, an urban playground, surrounded by tall sky scrapers. Two younger children playing soccer darted into the group, their ball bouncing off Saul's leg.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

Saul waited until the last moment. He recognized one of the boys swimming as the younger brother of Edwin Van Arenhem, the bastard who hit him a couple of months ago. Saul didn't forget such humiliations easily.

"Careful! Turn right!" he shouted, at the exact right moment. The driver turned the hovercraft away from the children. A wave rose around the Hovercraft, sweeping the children away from the roar of the Hovercraft's engines.

The ball flew high, high, then descended behind the Hovercraft, eventually exploding as it came near the engines. Saul could hear the children crying despite the background noise from the engines, and smiled.

He later found out that one of the children became deaf because of the loud engines, and remained that way for a month until his parents could afford a treatment to restore his hearing.

Well, if he hanged out with a Van Arenhem, he deserved it. Besides, it was a foolish youth trick which he wouldn't repeat now that he's a grown up, and an officer in Starfleet. So no remorse, right?

Saul felt his eyes close. He fell back on the hard mattress, the ball bouncing one last time on the floor. It rolled to the distant corner of the room, slowing until it stopped moving in the exact moment where the hungry and tormented Saul Bental fell asleep.

"Henderson to Commander Dallas, SubCommander tr'Khellian, Legate Curran, Lieutenant JG Bartlett, Ensign Sh'laran, and Ensign Bental. Please report to the bridge."

Saul opened his eyes and was on his feet before the voice from his commbadge faded.

Twenty hours into the fast, and It seemed like his atonement day was just beginning.

Shhh...we're hunting bio-mines" Pt 3

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

Iniara's body relaxed suddenly, shoulders curving down and head dropping forward slightly. For a moment she stood just like that: a living, breathing statue that apparently found some random spot on the floor quite riveting. One second ticked by, then two, then three.

Something moved in the edge of her vision. The chirping and beeping of a medical tricorder entered her brain next. With almost painful slowness Iniara turned her head in the direction of the stimuli. And saw the remainder of the away team staring back at her; confusion, concern and even hostility written across their faces. One eyebrow arched slowly as she looked around.

In all her conversation with Vr'lu she had almost completely ignored what was going on around her, and now she felt a bit confused. Clearing her throat slightly she addressed the group. "Uh...is something wrong?"

Nara's face softened as she cautiously stepped closer to Iniara, "Are you alright?"
"We thought you were..." Phoebe tried to explain. "Well, in serious need of medical attention."

Nara added to Phoebe's further explanation, "Cernu was telling us that you were getting 'acquainted' with Verlu." Nara looked Iniara's eyes for any signs of harm, "Did it hurt you?"

"Oh," Iniara remarked, then smiled softly. "No, not at all; I'm fine. I was just a little overwhelmed at first, but that's more my fault than anybody's." She then called on her newfound empathic ability and tried to project a feeling of calm, hoping that would help to assuage their fears.

She was genuinely touched by her fellow officers' concerns for her, but didn't want them getting paranoid about their current mode of transportation. The mission would go nowhere if they started worrying that the ship might suddenly decide to fry their minds.

"Vr'lu is a wonderful being," she began to explain, thinking back to the feeling of becoming the ship, gliding effortlessly through the void of space, "although I will admit he is quite different than your average Starfleet runabout. He means us no harm, though, if that's what concerns you."

"Well, I for one have never felt threatened by Vr'lu." Phoebe said. "I've actually felt a sort of serenity aboard him... or in, or on him...whatever is appropriate. It was an almost eerie feeling at first. To feel so at peace, and almost at home in the middle of such a deadly situation. But, honestly, you did look a bit... stressed. I can't imagine what it must be like to be a telepath."

"I've been getting a friendly vibe in here. Your belief reassures me. But I'm more worried about this mine. A Mine. Mines explode." Klaus paced slightly.

Nara nodded and crossed her arms tightly around herself still uneasy. She looked at Cernu and stepped closer and spoke in a soft voice, "It won't go wandering in minds without permission though will it?"

~Do you think I would do so?~ Cernu asked, becoming very very still.

Nara looked at him intently, "I don't know. You seem perfectly capable of doing so. I'm not saying you would do it for any harm, but perhaps you see nothing wrong with it." Nara sighed, "You and Verlu seem perfectly benevolent, but being within a creature whose very mind seems to be in the air..." Nara shrugged. The analogy just spilled out, but it was how it felt. Now that she knew it had a mind and was a telepathic being she could sort of understand this feeling of being watched she's had since beaming aboard. That in itself was creepy. Nara felt very vulnerable suddenly and she hated feeling that way. She felt embarrassed. She knew the others heard and saw this. They must think she's a paranoid schizophrenic.

"Perhaps it would be... appropriate..." Phoebe began, trying to assuage her friend's discomfort at least somewhat, "if Vr'lu could speak to us. In the way you do, lieutenant. I can hear your voice inside my head. But, I cannot hear the ships. Perhaps if Vr'lu could... at least say hello it would put a 'face' on the presence Nara feels. If you follow me, sir?"

~Ensign~ Cernu asked casually, perhaps a little too casually ~do you know what the penalty for breaking regulations is regarding reading or otherwise probing the mind of a Federation citizen without their permission?~ His head was cocked curiously but he was still very still.

Nara had remembered hearing something on it. She sighed and looked him in the face again, "Again I apologize. I should know better than to assume..." Nara looked down. She was being a complete fool. She was near tears. Yea, she was SOME warrior! She wanted to leave. She wanted to go home where she felt more confident with herself. Maybe joining Starfleet wasn't such a great idea. She made a much better soldier than engineer.

~That is acceptable Ensign~ Cernu told her raised his crest again and radiating approval ~though to answer your questions, I could not be sure of your motivations because I am not allowed to read your mind. Also, there is an inherent...'danger' for Vr'lu to touch the mind of a non-psionic and even to one below a certain threshold of strength. Ensign Tarin has the correct strength, near my own in fact, to handle the stress and power that her nervous system would be subjected to. You *may* have the strength to do so but you do not use your telepathy and like any muscle, it will atrophy and lose coordination with disuse. I believe you would be better served to 'keep an open mind', at least passively, or that you could perhaps understand your fellows a bit better~ Cernu was 'speaking' to Nara the same way he did to Shinta when he was following an instinct. Often his subconscious prompted connections his conscious mind couldn't follow and more often than not, they were right. ~Telepaths often lack mundane social mechanic instincts that the psi-blind have because we are born with the ability to facilitate socialism amongst ourselves. If you feel that you are an outcast or not part of the group, it is likely because you have cut yourself off from the only natural tool to fit in."

Nara looked at him. She couldn't think of anything to say. She was trying to grasp all he said. She smiled at him, "Seems you should had been a counselor." She looked more solemn and added, "Being open to other minds isn't the problem. But rather being open to my own." Nara was yet to realize it, but she had spent her life becoming what others expected her to be. A good soldier like her father, as well as a good Starfleet officer like both her parents. Perhaps she was meant to be these things, but what has she ever done not expected of her? As she allowed herself to be open to this 'natural tool' as Cernu put it, she grew curious as to what Verlu was like in his mind." A smile crept on her face as she looked at Iniara, "What was it like?"

Iniara remained silent for a moment, thinking. "It's hard to describe the experience; words can be a bit imprecise. It would be better if I could just show you," she explained, tapping her temple to illustrate what she meant.

Before anyone could respond, Iniara continued. "But, that's not really our primary concern right now, I think. Telepathy and communing with bioships is all well and good, but I'm with the doctor on this one." She turned to look at Dr. Fienberg. "Miranda and Galaxy are counting on us to get that minefield down. For now, everything else will have to wait." Something inside her wanted to help Naranda, reassure her, show her that everything would be fine. But she pushed even that away, her thoughts focused firmly on the mission.

A moment later she added, "If we don't succeed, we might not be around long enough for anything else to matter." Grim words, but to her none rang truer.

To be continued...

"Havoc"
Captain Elaithin Jii

The Primary Hull, designated in the Tactical Computers as 'Miranda-One' shook as it was struck a glancing blow by T'Kith'Kin bioplasma. The swift-looking craft swooped around asteroids - skimming so close that they very nearly set off collision alarms.

Gail's a much finer pilot than I thought she would have been, captain Elaithin mused as he fought the urge to grip the edge of his seat. "Status, Mr. Dawson." he called out to Ops.

"I've had the deflector shields in constant modulation, Captain. It seems to be buying us some time. Shields are still holding ay 78 percent." the new Ops Manager replied. It didn't hurt, Jii imagined, that Gail and Jack had been bridge officers the first two times that Miranda had directly encountered their T'Kith'Kin opponents. 'Course, Gail had been at Ops then, and Jack had been Chief Engineer in those days.

And Jii himself had been a junior-grade in the Galaxy's security department.

Times, they certainly were changed.

"Allright." Jii responded. "Rayna, what's the spread?"

The Assistant Chief of Security glanced down at her board to verify, even as she called out a three-torpedo spread to a series of smaller attack craft that were keeping up with them. One of the bioorganic vessels gravitational distortion fields failed, and the quantum torpedoes exploded dead center on it. Jii found the notion of a destroyed starship simply.. Stopping.. Without the typical explosion of matter and antimatter joining together... disconcerting, to say the least. The dead craft simply ceased all movement and collapsed in on itself, what ever biologically derived methods of integrity fields and propulsion - and atmosphere control - simply failing.

"Three - make that two - pursuing craft managing to keep up with us. Four enemy vessels destroyed. We've run through half our torpedo count, and one rear and one port phaser array are down. Engineering crews already working on them. One large cruiser ahead - sensors recognize the hull configuration as the Mr'Hata."

"Of course it is. Try to open a channel to them." the Captain replied, as the ship took another hit - this time from an asteroid that bounced off the shields over the port catamaran.

"That was too close." he heard Jack mutter under his breath.

"I've got him.' Rayna replied, shaking her head. She couldn't imagine why the Bajoran wanted to talk to the T'Kith'Kin commander.

["Surrender your vessels, Captain.] Gr'Chinick instructed as his insectoid face appeared on the viewscreen. ["Your people will not be harmed."]

"Somehow I doubt that." Jii replied. "Lower your minefield, Gr'Chinick. Let us go home. Whatever the Federation's done to offend you, send a request trough diplomatic channels. There doesn't have to be a war."

["Your Federation has dominated two quadrants for far too long, Captain. Your alliance with inferior species offends us. You will be conquered, or you will be destroyed. Surrender now, and your people will be trustees in the new order."]

"Not a chance, Gr'Chinick. We stood up the Cardassians, we stood up to the Borg, we stood up to the Remans, and we'll stand up to you. The Federation will never fall - what you perceive as weakness is our greatest strength. Even more than the Borg, we can adapt to anything that's thrown at as. That's why you'll fail - it's why everyone else has. Not even the Hydrans and the Breen will be able to help you destroy us. You might bloody our nose, but we can take that. It doesn't have to be this way."

["This conversation is futile. You will surrender your vessel, Captain, or you will be destroyed."] the Insectoid repeated stubbornly. ["You have no hope of victory here today.]

"You want my ship, Gr'Chinick," the Bajoran sneered back. "Come and take it." then he made a cutting gesture, and O'Grady clods the comm. "Gail , bring us about. We're going straight down his throat. Rayna - bring all weapons to bear on the Mr'Hata."

Both officers confirmed the orders, and on the viewscreen, the ship veered up sharply as the conn officer angled her towards the T'Kith'Kin flagship.

"In range now." O'Grady reported from Tactical.

"Fire." he said simply, even as he saw the incoming fire from their opponent reach them. Red phaser fire and startling silver quantum torpedoes lanced out at the enemy vessel, as both ships unleashed staggering amounts of weapons fire. T'Kith'Kin bioplasmic weaponry contended with Federation shields as Federations weaponry contended with the T'Kith'Kin's unique gravitational shielding techniques. A series of low-power scattering phaser blasts damaged the Mr'Hata, even as the bioplasmic blasts lowered Miranda's port shields.

["Intruder Alert. Deck Five, section 10.] the computer sounded dutifully even as one of the rear consoles on the bridge sparked, sending one of the security guards standing near it flying.

"Bridge to security teams." Rayna quickly responded. "We have T'Kith'Kin boarding parties materializing in Deck Five, section 10. All teams converge."

"Get those shields back up, Mister Lanzo." the Captain ordered to the fresh-faced Ensign handling Engineering controls from the bridge. "Make them a priority."

"Already on it, Captain."

"Good man." Jii replied. "Gail, bring us around for another pass. Rayna, ready weapons again. Same phaser spread, a mix of quantum and photon torpedoes this time."

"Captain, six more vessels have made their way through the asteroid field, and are closing on our position.": the Tactical officer reported.

Jii's head whipped around at that announcement, and he cursed inwardly. "Belay that then, Gail. Evasive maneuvers, again. Delaying tactics, Commander O'Grady. Fire at will."

Even as both officers complied with those orders, Jack spoke up. "Word from the Hazard Teams, sit. The control station for the T'Kith'Kin minefield has been destroyed, and they obtained the information you were looking for. They report though, that a wing of T'Kith'Kin and Hydran starfighters has their escape from the system blocked off."

"Damn." Jii muttered. "Who's closest to their position?"

"Rogues 9 and 10, Vanguards 10 and 14. Galaxy is the closest starship. The runabout Mississippi is also nearby."

"Allright. Dispatch those smaller vessel to escort them, and send the Hazard Teams to the Galaxy. What about the mine field. Is it down?" the final question was addressed to Ensign T'Lera, a young Vulcan officer who was managing the sciences station.

"There appears to have been no effect on the subspace interdiction field." the Vulcan officer reported primly.

Jii felt his heart sink somewhat with that announcement. The Hazard Team's destruction of the control station had been unsuccessful, and Lieutenant Ka'ranin's team had disappeared.

Which meant all their hopes for ever escaping the Havras System alive now rested on the shoulders of the one small team aboard Lieutenant K'rn's Q'lrn bioship. "Let's hope Mister K'rn gets lucky then. Allright, Commander O'Grady, Commanders Dawson - new tactics. Name of the game is to stay alive as long as possible. Do what damage you can to our opponents, but direct all efforts to simply avoiding getting killed."

"I think I can agree to that." Jack replied.

"I thought you might." the Captain said as he took his seat once more, even as the T'Kith'Kin scored another successful hit.

"The Five Stages of Grief"

Major Joral Anton
Rogue Squadron Executive Officer

--Fighter Launch Bay, USS Miranda--

Joral watched as Hammond's flight lifted off, and then activated his comm as the signal light lit up on his console. "Second Flight, go."

The other three fighters lifted off behind him and shot out of the bay, followed by Starburst's flight. Canting his fighter to port, he watched the heads-up display as the Miranda divided herself in three, all the hulls going their separate ways. He watched as Eliathin ordered the primary hull into the asteroid belt, and then there was no more time to wonder at what their fate would be; there was only time for the fighter pilots to survive.

The T'Kith'kin and Hydrans had arrived.

Against the two dozen Rogues and Vanguards and half a dozen vulnerable runabouts, the massive fleet had sortied nearly one-hundred fighters. At least, that's what Joral's sensors seemed to be saying. Visually, it looked like a hell of a lot more.

"Gunner, stick close; 'Dea, Wilder, fall in behind and follow us through.
Let's see if we can't wreak a litte havoc."

Second Flight swooped in, cutting along the middle of the T'Kith'kin formation, which was so tightly packed that the four pilots didn't even have to aim - they couldn't miss. It was finding the same target enough times to kill it that was the problem. Medea and Wilder had cut to port and were tailing an entire squadron on their own. While it had the element of surprise, that didn't make it a wise choice. Joral switched to comm; "Rogues Seven and Eight, pull back in tight; we can't afford to stray."

Medea's voice came back first with a simple, "Acknowledged," followed by Wilder.

"Rogue Seven Acknowl..."

A burst of static interrupted the comm, and Joral looked frantically at his sensors, but there was no way to tell friend from foe. "Rogue Seven, do you copy?"

Medea's voice cut in on the comm, cursing like he'd never heard from her before. "Wilder's fucking gone, Joral! He pulled too close to a Hydran cruiser and got caught in the damn cross fire!"

Rogue Squadron had just sufferred it's first casualty.

The Bajoran swore to himself and hailed Hammond. "Rogue Leader, this is Rogue Five."

Nothing.

"Rogue Leader, do you copy?" When there was still no response, he tried Pikarr, and got an equally dead channel. What the hell was going on? A voice cut in; "Rogue Five, this is Rogue Four; I can't find either One or Two. I know they aren't dead - at least, they weren't when I saw them last. Three is still with me."

Joral slammed his hand on the console as he took another shot at a passing fighter. "Dammit! Thanks, Solranth." He switched over to the squadron comm; "Rogue Squadron, this is Rogue Five; I'm taking command of the squadron. Everyone stay alive. If you see Hammond or Pikarr, please, for the love of the Prophets, will someone tell me?"

The pilots acknowledged, and Rogue Squadron regrouped near Miranda's secondary hull. The Major looked at the fighters arrayed around him - nine sure as hell didn't make a sqaudron. "Rogue Squadron, angle towards that T'Kith'kin squad at point-oh-six. Draw their fire away from the starships."

In formation, the fighters dived down on their prey, catching the enemy pilots flat-footed, or whatever passed as such for a T'Kith'kin. "Solranth, cut back to the secondary hull - we've got an enemy flight trying to make a run. Third Flight, split to wingpairs and engage. I just got an order for Nine and Ten to escort the Hazard Teams back in. If you could knock out any hostile fighters on your way, it would be greatly appreciated. Eleven and Twelve, clear out the Hydran element harrassing the Tertiary hull. We'll swing around and meet you in the middle."

Medea and Gunner took flanking positions on Joral's wings, and the three fighters skimmed along the upper hull of a passing Hydran cruiser. Gunner's voice cut in; "Watch yourself, Anton, three from above."

Joral glanced at the head's up display and responded, "Cut to the left, I'll take the leader." He swung his fighter wide, and the Hydran fighter shot ahead of him. For the first time ever, he thanked the Rogue-class' dreadful manueverabilty, and opened fire, blasting the enemy craft into oblivion as Six cleared his back. "Good shot, Ross."

The other Bajoran replied, "All part of the service, Anton." Those were Gunner Ross' last words.

Five T'Kith'kin craft came up on his starboard quarter, and before he even had time to swing around, they opened fire. His shield flicked out of existance, and his craft was vaporized.

Joral and Medea exchanged a glance of rage, and then broke into a scissors formation without a word, cutting around to avenge the death of one of Rogue Squadron's last original members.

Two fighters were gone in their initial assault, and one more on the second pass. They split and took one each. Joral dispatched his within seconds, and came back around to reform with Medea. The problem was, he had no idea where she'd gotten off to. "Rogue Eight, where are you." There was no response. "Rogue Eight, this is Rogue Five; reform."

Still nothing.

Joral began to experiance an entirely new feeling; panic. "'Dea, where the hell are you?!?"

Finally, his comm came to life, and she didn't sound much better than he did. "Joral, the bastard led me into a trap - I got him, but now I'm just trying about to get wasted by a fucking T'Kith'kin cruiser!"

Joral felt his heart stop. "I'll be right there. Hold tight, Babe."

Forcing all power into his fighter, he came about and headed for her. It took him just under thirty seconds to get there. He was almost on time.

Almost.

As he angled around the bow of the offending cruiser, he could just barely see Medea in the canopy of her fighter - her gorgeous locks of black hair swirling about her face, and her fighter angled away from him, taking her out of sight. It would be his last glimpse.

The Rogue turned too sharply, and as the cruisers beam struck her craft, there was a brief scream from Medea Sinistrari over the comm, and then her fighter went dead. It hung motionless for a few seconds, then exploded in an amazing show of sparks.

Joral's entire body went numb. 'Dea...

There have always been those who have tried to condense the highly complex emotion of grief into a paltry "five stages": Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. While most people took a long time to move through the "stages", in reality, they tended to occilate between two or three, and skip some entirely. In battle, Denial got a mere half-second before turning straight to Anger, followed by a brief second of Bargaining, characterized by the words Joral muttered quietly to himself.

"I wasn't fast enough..."

Anger, in the meantime, would have none of that, and immediately reiterated its presence in full force, in the form of pure, irrational rage.

Joral slammed his fist down on the controls and pointed his craft straight at the enemy warship that had just killed the woman who, until this moment, he hadn't even realized that he loved. The fact that he'd never really gotten to tell her made it all the worse. "Starburst, you have command of the squadron."

There were words of protest coming from Starburst and from the Miranda's flight control, and so Joral deactivated his comm. Vengeance was more inportant to him at this moment; more important than Rogue Squadron, more important than his life, more important than Miranda, more important than Starfleet, more important than duty and honor. There was nothing left in his life except his desire for revenge.

Powering his engines and putting all power into the afterburner, he blasted towards the T'Kith'kin cruiser. The weapons officer on that ship, however, was no fool, and did everything he could to keep this tiny craft from slamming into the vessel's engines. Unfortunately for the crew of the warship, it just wasn't enough.

At five-hundred meters out, Joral lost his port nacelle. At three-hundred, his sesor array ceased to exist. However, between the inertia he had built up, and the core breach he had set into motion, it would be enough.

Instinct, however, had decided to make its presence known, and added its voice to the myriad of emotions already playing havoc with the young Bajoran's senses. Within one-hundred meters, Joral's hand moved entirely of its own accord and hit the eject button, sending the pilot away from his doomed fighter.

The craft slammed into the T'Kith'kin vessel's engines, and Joral watched as his tiny craft caused a cascade reaction. The large vessel suddenly exploded, and as the shockwave hit Joral, his last thought before losing conciousness was, ~Second Flight is no more.~

OOC: Don't worry about rescuing Joral; that'll get taken care of sooner or later.

"Round One"
Major Veronique St Melisande - Deuce
Lt. Cole Slaton - Wraith
Lt. Dana Glaisten - Babygirl

The four enemy fighters engines burned brightly and they thrusted towards the three fighters of St Melisande, Slayton and Glaisten.

"Stay holding hands," Veronique ordered over the comms. Stay in close formation was what she meant and stay close to her. "Wraith: Watch our six. Babygirl: Stay on my left wing, if a bogey gets in the way, shoot!"

"Roger that," Cole said easing off on the throttle allowing his fighter to fall back. His fighter stayed close to Veronique's, but not so it hampered him or the other two fighters.

"Got it," returned Babygirl.

All three fighters, accelerated towards the enemy fighters, the range rapidly decreasing. Working on mostly gut feeling, she watched the aspect screens of the enemy. ECM was screaming out that the fighters were under target lock.

The butterflies in her stomach were getting bigger and just as it felt like one was about to explode from her gut, she called out "Break!" over the comms.

Babygirl was a split second behind the other more experienced pilots, but she felt more than a sense of relief as she pulled her fighter up from the incoming bogeys.

Veronique could feel the phaser fire rippling under her fighter as she adjusted the attitude of her fighter as she went 'INERTIAL' and flipped the fighter down, strafing the Hydran fighter.

It was common knowledge among all fighter pilots that when you were coming head on each of the groups split, Cole had other ideas not backing down from a 'Chicken Fight' in his life. He pushed the throttle forward through the gate activating the afterburners firing several busts, the feeling in the back of his mind - which he'd leaned to listen to - shouted at him to fire. The phaser pulses flew straight slamming into the leader enemy fighter, it had peeled up attempting to engage his wingmates.

The shielding took the impacts of the energy bolts dispersing it over its surface, the fighters instantly pulled a hard left turn taking them away from Cole's fighter, and his comrades. Cole's finger pressed a button on the right side, two dormant mini-torpedoes were dropped in his wake, he didn't know why he'd pressed the button he'd done it without thinking.

With the combined delta-Vs, the two groups of fighters had flown past each other, it was now time for the return match. And much like jousters of old, not willing to give up the velocities that each group had, the next few encounters were in straight passes.

His fighter was back up in formation when they made the sharp turn, the futuristic jousting match was about to get into its second round with Cole tucked up behind the front pair. "Now..." he whispered taking the initiative. It was a key worded command for the two dormant torpedoes.

They became active and with a sudden burst of speed pulled up slamming into one of the fighters, the first exploded hitting the shields the shockwave damaging the engines putting her into a spin. As the fighter flipped end over end the second mini-torpedo struck. The explosion was immense engulfing the whole fighter in fire, the initial explosion was nothing compared to the fighter's core erupting throwing a shockwave out through space.

Veronique could see the problem that Glaisten was having with keeping position on her wing. Glaisten's Rogue looked like a fireworks of attitude jets as she tried to stay in position. It had been a mistake on Veronique's part of taking her on with her and Cole. But numbers were needed, if the squadrons were going to deal with the fighters.

Her helmet automatically darkened at the brightness of the warp reactor in the fighter blasting itself into nothingness, Cole had gotten first kill.

As the three accelerated, it was obvious that the three enemy fighters were not here to go toe to toe. With the HUD braketing their location, the bright flare of the afterburners could still been seen.

"Deuce, your slipping," Veronique scolded herself. Those blasted things were on a 'bombing' run. "They're heading to home plate. They've got capship torps onboard, take em out group."

Sliding the control on her stick, the flare of her afterburners filled her cockpit as the three went after the enemy Hydran Fighters.

"What good is it going to do them?" asked Babygirl on the comms.

"We've got a simple capship to capship action going on. Already Tertiary Hull has some ventral shield failure. She's keeping the shield away from the T'Kith'kin vessel. But those fighters can get in, release the torp. Torp is against unshielded hull, it will right through the structure, full det will occur in the ship. Think of it as like a jab in the kidneys from someone when you are busy fighting the big bruiser in the ring. Won't take you out, but it will leave you open and staggered for a few seconds. We've got to stop that from hap... SHIT!"

On all three HUDs, showed the launch of full size photon torpedoes from the fighters, two streaked towards the Tertiary hull. "We've got to get those torps!"

Veronique gave thanks for the little things as the sensors had detected the third torp had not ignited it's main engine and was hanging dead in space.

"Swept Away" - Part III
Captain Daren M'Kantu, Commanding Officer USS Galaxy
Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer
Lt. Ven'r Nong, Asst. Chief Tactical Officer
Lt JG T'Rehn (written by Kat), Operations Officer
Ensign Miramon Terrik, Flight Control
Ensign T'Pol Hunter, Science Officer
Appearances:
Ensign Claire Barnes (NPC), Security Officer
Commander Ethan Suder, Chief Engineer, Battle Bridge XO

Thot Har'an, Breen Observer - Pat

*****
Battle Bridge
USS Galaxy
*****

Behind M'Kantu, Har'an had clasped an area of the railing that did not house any critical paneling or displays the Tactical Officer would not be needing, he knew. Analyzing the telemetry of the tactical data that scrolled along both the viewscreen's right side and M'Kantu's display panel below, he saw the battle was hardly even getting started. Even as sparked terminals infused the air from around him in this surreal environment, he wondered if his decision would be in vain. The humans barking orders, the ship performing maneuvers their intelligence had hardly gleaned, the steadfast kinship as their methods flowed as succinctly as his own species strictly logical routines.

The moment was near.

"Sir!" 8-ball said, jumping out of the way of a terminal trying it's best to explode on her. "There's are unidentified craft headed our way from Breen!"

"Mr. Nong!" Daren jumped from his center seat even as the ship took more fire. A view out the starport above the bridge viewscreen displayed blistering craft darting all around.

"T'Kith'Kin capital ships moving into range!" Bioplasma bombs detached themselves from several of the lavender insect craft even as half of them were obliterated by one of the Miranda's starships by a plethora of phase fire.

"Shields have failed-" An enormous rumble and scream of steel rent over the feedback from the communications center before Ven'r could identify the incoming craft.

"They are Breen, Captain." For the first time since Har'an had accompanied the Captain to the Battle Bridge, he spoke, his voice frigid in its delivery. "Our ships are even now entering the system."

As much as he desired to turn around and order the Breen into custody, demand if they were friend or foe, or let his officers have their way with him, he had more important things to do. And Har'an was certainly still playing the middle, it seemed - not committing anything either way. He knew what had happened on Miranda with their observers, but the ones here had still not tipped their hands.

"Sir!" T'Rehn called out, her voice remaining steady and calm. "There is major damage to the port side of the ship, decks thirty eight through forty. Environmental systems have been damaged. Hull breach on deck forty." She quickly sent out emergency reports and evacuation notices to all affected sections.

Ven'r worked quickly, as he had since the combat began, stabbing phasers at ships whose shield destabilized from the tachyon pulses pulsing out from their deflector array. One, two, four of the smaller ships turned into balls of expanding fire under his tender attentions, beams of red lancing out with precision.

"Captain there are three Breen heavy cruisers converging on our position in Trinity formation," he called to M'Kantu as he identified the tactical situation. "I may have a countermeasure but I may break a Federation treaty or two to do it."

It was a joke- the damned alien made a joke in the middle of what was probably a battle to the death for all of them. But then, knowing Ven'r, he was also serious.

T'Rehn raised one eyebrow, pausing only slightly as she waited to hear Ven'r' s strategy. She then resumed the assault on her console, rerouting power to the auxiliary environmental systems. Damage to the main system was relatively minor and Engineering would hopefully take care of it quickly. Until then, continuous maintenance of life support was top priority.

"Send fire control teams to the damaged sections. Jii, are you reading the new targets? Our observer has just informed us they our 'allies' have arrived. It would appear their forces were larger than within allowed confines of the treaty."

["We've got them too, Darren."] The Bajoran replied quickly, and M'Kantu could hear him giving orders to his own staff for the T'Kith'Kin ships that were on the tail of Miranda-One. ["Looks like they've decided to join the party."]

"Any suggestions, Captain?" The ship had taken on a continual shake now, bucked around by whatever impacts and explosions were occurring out beyond in the cold of space. "If your judgment is correct, then we have a bit of a problem in letting them move in close quarters with us, but if you're wrong and we fire on them...." He didn't have to say it. It would seal their fate. The 12th fleet wouldn't arrive in time.

["I'm right, Darren."] Captain Elaithin replied quietly. ["Thot Gor was fairly clear."]

And still Har'or remained silent. That was one of the most telling things. Had the Breen's invitation been true, he would have undoubtedly been defending the motives of his people. He was, however, not.

"Very well. Commander Henderson, initiate saucer separation. Take up defensive posture, take out as many as possible with that phaser cannon, then get the hell out of here."

"Aye, sir. I'll send deMercereau back as soon as possible," he said, turning back to order Bartlett to begin the protocols for saucer separation.

"Mister Nong, tactical analysis. How long can we hold out?" The ships magnetic moorings blew, not that you could hear it over the din of battle.

"That depends, sir, on what force you will authorize me to enable," Ven'r replied thoughtfully. "Prior to our departure from Breen orbit I left several packages in key locations with enough capacity to create an 'E.L. E.'. At your order I will cause those measures to become active and much of the surface of the planet will become uninhabitable to Breen-life, albeit temporarily. Such a threat would likely cause the Breen to back off, since no species known has ever successfully threatened their homeworld."

Waiting briefly as the ship's magnetic moorings disconnected themselves, Miramon slowed the velocity of the Drive section down to 1/4 impulse, while the Saucer section was moving slightly faster, which meant the two of them broke apart quickly enough - the saucer section veering slightly to port, while the Drive section continued forward.

"Saucer Separation complete, Captain. Awaiting your orders."

"Stardrive systems operating within acceptable tolerances, sir," T'Rehn reported, now that the link between the ship's two halves had been severed.

Har'an's grip tightened even as Barnes had stepped in behind him, eyes never leaving his wrist where he could activate his thermal detonator at any time. Any sudden movements and it'd be disintegrated before he knew what hit him.

The Breen figure, usually imposing, had lost his sense of regality. At Nong's declaration of essentially relegating his species to a fate worse than death, he had no words. The very idea of oblivion was tumultuous and pleasurable at once. "Captain, proceeding with this plan is not advisable."

"Why is that?" But Har'an remained silent. Daren took it as a threat.

"Remove your wrist device, Mister." He held his hand out.

"I will not." Not even the blast shield coming down on the viewscreen as a bioplasma mine floated in front shook Daren's resolve.

Miramon adjusted the ship's velocity to an almost dead stop, then used the starboard thruster control to turn the ship about so as to present the shields towards the mine, floating slightly closer, then quickly punched the ship's velocity back up to 1/2 impulse once the ship was about.

"That was close", he observed quietly.

"Good work, Ensign," T'Rehn replied after a moment. Although the ship still took some damage from it, they had managed to avoid most of the mine's blast. For once, no new alarms dotted her console.

"You can remove it willingly, or we can shoot you and take it off. Make your choice." The very audible click of Barnes releasing the safety clasp of her rifle was the only sound in the circle of beings. It seemed even the battle halted its progression outside in anticipation.

"They do not intend to destroy this ship, Captain. It is a prize to be desired." he offered. "Even those who lust must give up if they cannot hope to attain what it is they desire. If they can't have it, no one will. An old Earth saying of resilience."

"Perhaps, perhaps not."

The Breen fleet, under the personal direction of the rather offended Thot Gor, moved into the fray then. And it was very clear, as their fighters launched and made beelines for the Rogues and Vanguards, even as their capital ships did the same for the Mirandas and Galaxys. The stardrive section shook violently under the initial onslaught of Breen disruptors.

"Give us the device, or we initiate the plan." M'Kantu ordered in a steely tone

"Do what you must, Captain. I can not surrender my terminal. Removal from my form interface will signal the closest core node and initialize immediate self-annihilation. This deck will be nothing but a blackened stain on this ship."

Damn Breen helmets. Daren couldn't determine if it was bluffing or not. Nong's plan was ambitious, but the lives that would be lost...

"Our saucer section is taking heavy fire from T'Kith'Kin fighters and a Breen cruiser that is in pursuit. Their shields are heavily depleted and ablative armor is down on the port side. I detect breeches on decks two and four, forcefields are in place," Nong chanted in the background, delivering his narrative of the death of the galaxy. "We have sustained heavy damage with hull fractures and superstructure damage on all decks. Primary EPS network is down in whole sections and we have rerouted to compensate. Ablative armor has been depleted in most areas. Shields are down to twenty-one percent overall, we have sixteen quantum torpedoes remaining and phasers are down to sixty-eight percent."

"Mr. Nong." Daren took a deep breath even as an EPS conduit came crashing down behind him, forcing him to scramble as it crushed his seat. "Do it!"

Ven'r touched a single section of the Tactical console, sending a subspace signal to the Breen homeworld and the devices he had transported into the very crust of the planet.

Simultaneously, fifteen devices across the surface of the planet exploded, annihilating the immediate area AND the structures above them, destroying the link nexi. The death toll was minimal, a few hundred Breen at worst but the effects were instantly felt across the width and breadth of their territory as a massive electromagnetic pulse wave shut down all higher-order electronics. Feedback shot through the link, screaming through relay stations and other planetary nexi, bringing confusion and disorientation, as buffers automatically closed sectioning important parts of the link from each other.

What had been a glorious organic version of a Collective, now crashed into useless biomnemonic static.

Outside the Galaxy, the Breen ships suddenly broke out of their eloquent combat patterns, halting and drifting into each other or whatever was around, causing damage or destruction to most.

As this distraction took hold with the participants, a trio of Hydran capital ships had managed to close within firing range of the Galaxy, the formerly wondrous bird now riddled with pockmarks and gaping wounds as it was being pounded by bioplasma bombs and rockets. The starboard nacelle was venting plasma, its rear dark blue lights now dark as the night sky would be without the light of weapons fire streaking through it.

The saucer section swung around from above the listing stardrive section, spitting fire from its phaser cannon, searing off the nose of one of the capital ships, splitting another in two, and rending the engine boosters off the other, but not before it had fired its giant hellbore cannon. Even as it did so, the ship blew up, unable to allocate the residuals since its engineering section had been obliterated.

As the Hellbore blast lanced into the stardrive section of the Galaxy, she wounded ship staggered in an attempt to dodge, the helm squeezing a little power from her thrusters. The massive blast of energy missed the main section of the hull and instead slammed into the tertiary nacelle, blowing it off of the ship and ripping it's support pylon from the main part of the hull. Everyone braced as much as they could as the inertial dampers screamed their protest at the rape of the ship and atmosphere and plasma began to vent into space. On the rear view, several bodies were blown away into vacuum, kicking and struggling for a moment as the air was torn from them and the cold froze them solid.

"Decks twenty-five through thirty-five are exposed to space Captain!" Ven'r called, "Forcefields do not respond! Internal sensors are not online. Our tertiary nacelle has been destroyed and our dorsal support structures have been torn out. Structural integrity field is offline in the affected sections and deck and inertial generators appear to be offline. I do not think we will be able to attain warp speed."

"Close emergency bulkheads." M'Kantu ordered, coughing the smoke in the air out of his lungs. Ven'r acknowledged, and the ship stopped loosing atmosphere.

"Dhani..." Suder muttered under his breath, an ashen look on his face.

"Captain." Har'an now stood straight upwards, the only one on the Bridge to do so after the complete smack down the ship suffered. "I believe it is now my turn to assist you in this endeavour." Har'an had knelt on one knee, extending his hand to give assistance to the dark Captain of the USS Galaxy, now only a man after knowing his ship was lost.

"I think you've done enough, or do you intend to finish the job now that you can't have this ship?"

"No, Captain, I do not." With that, he took his proffered but ignored hand and unbuckled the device at his wrist to hand it to the African, who took it unsure of the Breen's intent. "I am in your service. You have freed me from the Net." Still on one knee he 'stepped' back, swung his arms out to the sides, palms up, and bowed his head. "I seek amnesty. I wish to defect. My life is yours, Captain Darren M'Kantu of the Federation."

Miramon threw his hands up in despair. "By the Prophets, you couldn't have picked a better time, could you? Our ship is getting blown to pieces, and you honestly think we're in a position to play with Federation protocols on amnesty and sanctuary?

"Ensign!" T'Rehn hissed at the Bajoran. "This is not the time for that." They were being pummeled from all sides, the ship was falling to pieces, and now this Breen suddenly wanted to switch sides. The whole situation was definitely trying her near-infinite Vulcan patience.

"And I suppose you consider now an appropriate time for this kind of thing, Lieutenant?" Miramon riposted. After all, most asylum requests tended to be made a) in neutral or Federation territory, which this clearly wasn't, and b) during a point wherein the ship wasn't being blown to pieces and lives were at stake.

Though, on brief reflection, it was hardly as though the Breen would have been any more annoyed at them due to this defection - they'd learn about it soon enough, but what would they do to retaliate? Blow up the ship? They were doing a good enough job of it already, or so it seemed.

"It is the first opportunity available to me, Ensign." Har'or replied simply.

"I believe the Breen is in earnest Captain," Ven'r told M'Kantu and briefly chitter-squealed at the Breen, <"Your link has been broken has it not? It is now safe for you to do this?">

"All my life I have desired freedom, but the Net will not allow it. The Net gives our people a singular purpose - though that purpose is directed by our leader at the time. Though Governor Born served in that capacity, Thot Gor has led us for quite some time. Independent thought was not an option available to us. One must bow to the will of the whole... Until now."

The helmeted Breen turned to face the Federation Captain. "My people will no longer be participants in this battle. I will lend you whatever assistance that is within my abilities.."

"Into The Fray"

Commander Cassius Henderson,
Executive Officer

Commander Karyn Dallas,
Second Officer/Chief Counselor

Ensign Saul Bental,
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer

Ensign Sh'laran,
Flight Control Officer

Ensign T'Liera,
Tactical Officer/Fighter Controller

Tyrone Miller,
Civilian Reporter

****

Main Bridge,
Deck 1,
USS Galaxy-A

Cassius Henderson stood on the bridge alone. People were beginning to move around to get to their positions, and for the moment, the bridge was empty. It seemed kind of empty, and not in the literal sense. Maybe it was the emptyness in his stomach. He hadn't realized that he hadn't eaten all day. The briefings and strategizing sessions with M'Kantu, Elaithin, and Jaxom had gone on  for most of the day while they waited for reports.

And now they were like Odysseus and his band of Ithacan sailors, venturing into the cave of the cyclops, ready to confront the gargantuan beast that was the combined forces of the Hydran, T'Kith'Kin and Breen Fleets. And if Cass was right, the Breen hadn't ever adhered to the Treaty of Bajor, and Thot Gor would bring more to the table than just the light patrol cruisers they'd seen so far.

The turbolift doors hissed open behind him, and he turned to look from where he stood by the Command Chair. It was the short haired young Vulcan from tactical.
 Cass had worked with her when he'd been in charge of the department.  "Commander Henderson," she nodded in a typical Vulcan manner.

"Ensign T'Liera," Cassius replied. It had been a while since he'd so much as exchanged words with T'Liera, though she was always at fighter control during alpha shift. It was a position that she assumed now, turning to the right  and moving to one of the auxiliary consoles where she could link into the sensors and help out Flight Officer Heloi, who was leading the squadron while Lieutenant Rex was missing.

She was about to sit down when she thought better of it and turned her attention back to the exec, who was still watching her. "Commander, you do realize that the odds of our survival are..."

Cassius cut her off, "Don't bother, T'Liera. I don't think about the odds.  Only what I can do before they catch up."

"Hmm," the woman offered in what was still a typically Vulcan manner, then turned her attention back to her console, "I will think on that subject, sir."

"Try not to distract yourself," he replied, then tapped his commbadge, "Henderson to Commander Dallas, SubCommander tr'Khellian, Lieutenant JG Bartlett, Ensign Sh'laran, and Ensign Bental. Please report to the bridge."

Standing in a Turbolift, Tyrone heard the call through the intercomm. What he didn't expect, was that he'd eventually end up there anyway. Someone entered the Turbolift, one of the called out officers presumably, and they had changed the Turbolifts Destination to the Bridge. 'This could be what makes my story', thought Miller.

When the lift opened, Lieutenant JG Cameron Bartlett stepped out, followed by a man in civilian clothes that Cassius didn't recognize. Nodding to Bartlett, who walked over to the Ops console, stopping only to offer a respectful "Sir." to Henderson.

"Excuse me," Cassius said, directing his attention to the civilian, "But you should be in the shelters. We're about to enter battle and I can't have civilians on the bridge."

Miller glanced around, noting that the man who he'd just ridden with on the Turbolift took the Ops station. "Actually Commander, I was just on my way to one, until your Ops Officer did an emergency redirection to the Bridge."  He glanced around again, wondering wether there was any way he could stay up there and remain out of peoples way. "I'm writing a story for the FNS, this story in fact, Commander. Where better to get the best view of the conflict ahead than up here?"

Henderson nodded, "I do hope you'll do your best not to glorify this." It was always the soldiers who spoke against war, and Cass was no different. His days in SFI and the Dominion War had seen to that.

"I find no Glory in a nessecary battle Commander," Tyrone said as he began recording. He'd get all the sounds he could from the bridge, every word said would be recorded. Then he'd decide later whether it was worth going into the story or not. He moved slowly round the bridge, seeing if he could go somewhere where he'd be out the way, but at the same time be able to capture all of the action.

"Good.  Try to stay out of the way," Cass said, then turned his attention back to the turbolift, which was about to disgorge it's latest occupant. Tyrone Miller would get his first hand account of war. If he wasn't killed himself, of course. That was always the danger.

The Turbolift's door opened once again, this time revealing a very awkward Ensign in Intel Uniform. Saul Bental was quite surprised as he heard his name on the Comm just a couple of minutes earlier. But, as though acting on instinct, he immediately darted out of his newly assigned chamber on Deck 7 to the nearest Turbolift.

He stepped inside unelegantly, surveying the Galaxy's bridge with his eyes.  Despite seeing a holographic representation of it many times during his academy days, he never saw one in reality. It was different, but then again much like he imagined it would be. There was something else, though, a tense and uneasy atmosphere.

No wonder. They were going to war.

He took another awkward step, trying to pull the attention of the man in the Captain's chair.

"Ensign Bental," Cass said, turning to look at the new intelligence officer. "We need you on intelligence. You'll be running sensors and the rear facing weapons once we seperate." Not if we seperate, he thought to himself, but when we seperate. And where the hell was Savar? The Rihannsu officer was usually prompt about arriving.

"Yes sir." Saul replied, untypically nervous, and approached his post. He didn't like the fact that there was nothing in his powers to prevent the combat.  During his time on Utrecht III, he always trusted his wits to get him out of such situations, and if he had no other option he would always strike in the most effective and least dangerous way. Charging into a fleet much more powerful than their little task force was the exact opposite. A suicide. And you didn't have to be an Intelligence officer to make THAT analysis.

Henderson returned to the command chair and looked out at the coming storm, the distant Hydran and T'Kith'Kin Fleets. The Breen had yet to make their entrance.  But they would. In that, Cass had faith. His research with Lieutenant Dobryin had been very clear about that.

The turbolift doors opened and a weary Karyn Dallas took her place beside Henderson.  Karyn offered the slightest of nods in the XO's direction and tried to focus on the upcoming battle, but she found her thoughts drifting toward their time in Breen imprisonment.  Normally the keeper of morale, especially during a crisis, Karyn was unusually withdrawn now, brooding.  It was decidely un-Second Officer like. Perhaps she was getting too old for this.

As Counselor Dallas moved to take her position at the left of the command chair, Cassius frowned. Dallas seemed distracted... and still no SubCommander tr'Khellian. Did he not realize that they were about to enter battle with three fleets? Or had he been delayed by the Tal Shiar killer. Even in these days of humiliation and exposure, the Tal Shiar still possessed some good agents, though from his talks with Captain M'Kantu, the one here was nothing but a recruit.

The aft Jefferies Tube hatch popped open, and a blue head poked out, followed by the rest of Sh'laran's body.  The tall Andorian was the last to arrive, much to his own disgust, due to the fact that he'd been in the tubes finalizing repairs to the lateral sensor arrays.  Hurrying to the flight control console, he tried to ignore the hard stare of Commander Henderson.

And still no Savar, Cass realized as Sh'laran took the seat at the helm. They were about to enter combat. It was now or never. Coming to a decision he stood and headed for the arch, his old familiar home. "Lieutenant Bartlett, transfer command to the tactical arch. Unless SubCommander tr'Khellian arrives before we enter battle, I will handle Command and Tactical."

"Aye, Sir."

Karyn quirked an eyebrow in Cass' direction.  She wondered if the XO actually enjoyed the idea of manning his former station.

Cassius looked out the main viewport at the rising enemy tide.  They'd be upon them in moment.  For a moment, Cassius spared a thought for Rima Pennington.  Whereever she was, she was probably in far less danger than he was.  It  was kind of pathetic, he thought, because he was realizing how much he wanted her to stand with him at the arch, like she had during the Battle of Quentin. Though it had never been, in truth, the image came to his mind, more clear than ever.

Dismissing the reverie, he turned his attention back to his console. Savar would not be coming.  They were too close.  If could have made it, he would have by now.

"Battle Bridge to Henderson."  The computer lagged a nanosecond as it rerouted connection protocols.  That would be M'Kantu calling from the battle bridge to give him the last minute instructions.

"Henderson here," Cass replied from the bridge, where he stood at the tactical arch, customizing the displays to handle both command and tactical functions.

"Be prepared to detach the saucer if we're to be drawn out of the asteroid field.  Focus the phaser cannon on any capital ships that draw within range.  If you happen to eliminate any fighter threats along the path of trajectory, it would be a grand assistance.  We'll remain attached so that you may draw enough reserve power from the warp coils.  It shouldn't impede your exit later."

Cass felt unnatural for a moment.  Much as the survival odds were increased by his assignment, it was against his nature to run from an honorable fight in the defense of the Federation.  But he knew his duty to the civilians on the USS Galaxy as well.  They, in a small way, were the Federation.  "Aye, sir."

"Once the battle is met, make every effort to get that saucer out of this sector.  The cavalry is coming, so be sure you get a living record back to them of what happens here today."

That was a sobering thought.  A living record of the tragedy that was probably about to take place.  "I'll see to it, Captain.  Give them what they so richly deserve for me."

"Good luck, Commander.  Let us keep this line of communication open as long as possible."

"Aye, sir.  Henderson clear," Cass frowned wincing as he turned away from the communication to look at the forward viewscreen.  Many of his friends were on the Stardrive.  But at least he didn't need to worry about Rima Pennington being in tactical control this time.

"Here they come!" Bartlett exclaimed from Ops.  As soon as the words had left his mouth, the viewscreen was filled with enemy fighters roaring past, their small pulse cannons bouncing harmlessly off the shields as the ripped past in pursuit of Vanguard Squadron.

"Mister Sh'laran, evasive maneuvers," Cassius said, locking onto a Hydran Cruiser with the phaser cannon and opening fire.  The beam of phased energy slashed out from the underslung barrel below the saucer and cut through a formation of fighters to blast a hole the size of a Saber-Class Escort into a the enemy cruiser.  Venting drive plasma, the lights on the enemy ship dimmed as it reeled out of control and slammed into the side of an asteroid.

"Mr. Bental, weapons rear arch, open fire. Show them that the USS Galaxy does not go down without a fight."

The intelligence ensign moved to act as the Sh'laran moved the Galaxy into the heart of the enemy formation, Cassius' hands flying over his former station, sending beams of phased death out against the Hydran and T'Kith'Kin vessels all around.

"The Beginning of the End"

[Occurs simultaneously with the events of 'Into the Fray']

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

Sub-Centurion Atole Tekri
Rihannsu Diplomatic Attache
USS Galaxy-A

[Soundtrack: Howard Shore, 'The End of All Things', from the score of LOTR: The Return of the King]

****
Deck 12
USS Galaxy-A
****

Savar's boots rang on the deck as he jogged quickly down the corridor, away from his offices. Last minute personnel reassignments to other critical departments, last minute nuggets of intelligence data, last minute analyses of the fragment of Hydran hull he had beamed aboard so many months ago -- everything was so damnably last minute. He hurried around a corner, almost tumbling a security officer to the ground. The memory of his recent encounter with Lieutenant Commander Corgan came unbidden into his conscious mind.

Yet again, Sub-Commander tr'Khellian was headed towards a very high chance of sudden death onboard this alien flagship: he had almost lost count of the times when his life had been placed in acute peril by the madness and folly of humans. Finally, they had come around to his way of thinking; finally, they had joined the dots. But what had emerged was a fearsome picture - convoluted, it might seem, to a human mind, but to the suspicious, even paranoid set of a Rihannsu brain, the conspiracy to invade the Federation was a perfect and complete explanation for many things.

Tr'Khellian span on his heel as he took the final approach to the turbolift that would carry him to his place on the Bridge. His quick and ruthless mind was full of schemes to take as many enemy vessels down as possible before the Galaxy fell. There was no place in his thoughts for a far more personal coup de grace, even now bearing down upon him.

Atole Tekri strode purposefully down the corridors of the Galaxy. She drew her plasma pistol and disengaged the safety mechanism, all in one swift action.

She had tried to listen to James Corgan, but what it came down to was: she wouldn't risk herself for some traitor of her people. To make matters worse, Corgan had become all suddenly self-righteous and judgemental about the ways of her society!

Still, she wasn't going to worry about that now.

She approached Savar's position. Corgan had - infuriatingly - locked her away in the shelters until the battle had finished, but the Galaxy was still recovering, and Savar was unguarded as a result - personnel were needed for other duties.

He would be walking down the next corridor. The doors opened for Tekri and she stepped through. She could see Savar walking to the turbo-lift, fifty metres or so away - it was a long corridor.

She raised her pistol - it was time to complete her mission objective.

There was a sudden flash and an intensity of heat. Savar heard a piercing scream echo inside his head, a split second before he recognised the cry as his own. Already he was running, and then fear kicked in a moment later, and then the realisation that his left arm had been all but destroyed, crippled, burned to a husk, the awful stench of corrupted and carbonised flesh clinging to his nostrils. He staggered, and another wail of pain and despair rent the air as he clutched at his wasted limb. Only then, just seconds after Tekri had pulled the trigger, did tr'Khellian consciously realise that he was under attack, and running for his life. There was no thought of standing and fighting, just one word rang through every atom of his being: flee!

With energy which defied belief, Savar hurtled unsteadily towards the turbolift doors, his steps uneven and dizzying. He collided against the bulkhead to his left, and screamed again as his wretched arm smashed against burnished steel, charred flesh dropping and defiling the clean, carpeted floor, blood oozing from this new wound. Tears streamed over his patrician features, and bile rose in his throat. When he had least expected it, the assassin had struck.

Another blast of energy seared the back of his uniform, crinkling the man-made fibres with its heat. Another shot from Tekri's pistol had hit the wall where his arm had struck just a moment earlier. The way he had rebounded from the collision had spared his life for a few more seconds.

Through the red haze of panic, tr'Khellian tried to gather his thoughts, pleading to the Arch Element that the turbolift would be waiting.

It was not.

Eyes wide with fear, Savar glanced hurriedly around, barely registering the abstract form of Atole Tekri advancing slowly down the corridor, her plasma weapon beginning to recharge. He ducked into a small alcove adjacent to the lift shaft, his breath ragged as he began to cough up emerald-green blood. Striking the call button furiously, he began to fumble cack-handedly inside his uniform. Time seemed to have slowed to a trickle.

When it seemed that Tekri would round the corner any moment to despatch him, the doors to the turbolift hissed open. Like a drowning man gasping for his last breath, tr'Khellian stumbled forwards, collapsing onto the floor of the lift, dragging his legs behind him. His good arm emerged from his tunic as darkness pressed at the edges of his eyes, bidding his agony-wracked mind into unconsciousness.

"Bridge," he managed to utter, a rivulet of green blood trickling over his pale lower lip.

As the doors began to close, slower than a continent, the stricken Romulan patrician expended the last of his mortal energy in raising the knife he held in his remaining arm, and hurling it towards the advancing Tal Shiar assassin.

Tekri saw the knife coming - but almost a second too late. If it hadn't been for Savar's weakened state, she would have sustained serious injury. As it was, the knife tore a chunk out of the insignia on her left shoulder, but did nothing more.

She had managed to avoid the last, pathetic effort of a traitor.

As the turbolift doors shut, Tekri raised her pistol and fired again. Searing balls of superheated gas blew open the turbolift doors in a haze of smoke. The Tal Shiar officer stepped forward, but there was only an empty shaft - Savar's turbolift was already heading up for the bridge.

She ran, faster than she had ever run before, to the turbolift located on the other side of Deck 12. There was already a turbolift waiting for her and without hesitation the young assassin ordered it to the bridge.

Her plasma gun was already spent. Tekri mechanically released it and slid in a new energy cartridge - this mission had taught her that duty was far more important than anything else, and her face betrayed no emotion as the lift doors opened to Deck 1. But, as the Bridge crew turned to look at her, she realised that there was no sign of Savar.

****
Deck 3
USS Galaxy-A
*****

Sealed inside the turbolift he expected to become his tomb, tr'Khellian raised an arm feebly, reaching in vain for the control panel which would summon an armed response team and medical assistance. He barked a hacking cough, spraying the floor with speckles of bright-green blood, waves of pain from his withered left arm assaulting his mind as he groped for the controls, the murk gathering in his eyes, reality dimming as his grip on life slackened.

His right arm fell to his side, devoid of energy, and Savar slumped back against the turbolift wall. Random thoughts flitted through his mind. Memories of his fiery pseudo-death over Quentin. A meaningless childhood memory, standing in the Great Hall, being reproached by his father. His graduation from the Imperial Naval Academy. What he had eaten for dinner the previous evening. The unfinished duty roster laying on his desk. The thought that he would never see another sunrise over the estates on ch'Rihan.

Savar's jaw, usually held so sternly, slackened and dropped. A wash of blood spilled from his gaping mouth. Suddenly his faltering vision was filled with a brilliant, white light; and he finished knowing then.

Commander Jack Dawson
Chief Operations Officer
USS Miranda

"...And Let Slip The Dogs..."

Inwardly Jack Dawson grinned. He watched the view screen intently as several T'Kith'Kin ships were destroyed. There was no remorse felt for them as they were quickly snuffed out of existence as quickly as the atmosphere on their ships exploded into space and disappeared.

Outwardly, he was all business. With his wife at his side at CONN, he felt a new sense of strength since the incident earlier. His fingers danced over his control console with the skill of a concert pianist. While Gail dodged incoming fire and asteroids, he made sure that that the systems were holding together. With Jerri in command of the Tertiary Hull, that made him the most knowledgeable person on the primary hull in regards to the engineering aspect of the ship.

He chuckled silently as he saw the status board light up indicating that the T'Kith'Kin that he had pinned down with some force fields were now trying to tamper with them. Little did they know that they...his thought was suddenly interrupted when the ship jolted violently. The lights flickered briefly and sparks shot across the bridge.

"Captain, I'm showing two T'Kith'Kin ships focusing their fire on our port phaser banks! Rerouting power to compensate!" Jack said.

He cringed as he transferred power from some of the more non-essential systems over to the shielding in that location. The ship was already strapped for power at the present moment and such a move made them vulnerable in other areas. He only hoped that the attacking vessels wouldn't be as apt to notice it as he had.

"Shields down to eighteen percent!"

Jack froze. He knew it was coming even before the sensors registered it. He could almost sense the T'Kith'Kin pilots mind. A T'Kith'Kin fighter accelerated to full speed and was on a collision course with the primary section. The Miranda's phasers lashed out at the offending craft until finally the craft was destroyed, but it was too late. While the engines and several other parts of the fighter were sent off in different directions from the explosion, the main body of the fighter was propelled faster forward, slamming it into the already weakened shields.

Ripping through the top of forward starboard side of the small saucer section, it completed its hazardous journey by exploding through the underside of the saucer like a bullet. The unsuspecting T'Kith'Kin soldiers that Jack had been toying with earlier watched in horror as the the wall in front of them was suddenly torn away. Their screams were quickly muted by the cold vacuum of space. The irony of the situation was that had they had been on the other side of their force field made prison, they would have been safe long enough for the emergency force fields to activate.

The force of the impact had caused anyone standing on the bridge to be suddenly thrown to the right. Lurching, Jack's eyes quickly scanned over his displays to see what had just happened. Half expecting to see the entire right side of the saucer gone, he was relieved, for lack of a better term, to see that only a small hole had been made. Small, in this instance, being a relative term.

"Sir, we've got a hull breach in sections forty-two alpha through gamma on decks two through sixteen! Emergency force fields are in place, but she's taking quite a wallop! Waiting for casualty reports!" Jack yelled over the noise of the bridge.

"Round Two"
Major Veronique St Melisande - Deuce
Lt. Cole Slaton - Wraith
Lt. Dana Glaisten - Babygirl

"We've got to get those torps!" Veronique called out as three Hydran fighters fired full sized photon torpedoes at the Tertiary Hull. With the ventral shields nearly down, the torps could really do some damage. There was two small favours, there could only hang a single full torp on the fighters and the second was one had failed on it's initial burn. That still left two very dangerous torpedoes arrowing for the Tertiary Hull of the Miranda. They had less than thirty before impact and Veronique's internal clock was counting down frightening fast.

Cole pushed the throttle through the resitive gate on the lever kicking into afterburner, he felt the sudden jolt of acceleration pulling him back into the seat, even with the dampeners working he felt the G-Force against him, the rush of blood. He kept his eyes firmly on the two torpedoes racing towards the Miranda, space was lit up as the MVAM component fired phasers that cut through space like a knife through butter. Who ever was commanding the third hull understood the danger of those small packages of anti-matter.

"Keep those fucking fighters off me!!" he called out over the com-link not taking the time to worry about his language, in the heat of the moment who really gave a shit? "Computer transfer all power to engines! Even life support!"

[Warning: extremely hazardous to--]

"Override!" Cole didn't have time to hear the inaudible dribble from the computer, he felt the extra speeds as the computer transferred the power to the engines. He kept only enough for the forward phaser banks, the controls were beginning to shaking, he could feel the stick fighting to pull him to the right.

The Hydran fighters read the situation and who ever was left to command the small squadron, saw the dangers. Certainly torps were smaller than a fighter, a lot smaller, harder to hit. But they didn't go through the same manaeuvers that a fighter could go through to dodge fire. They moved in straight lines, and that meant dead in a space fighter battle. They had to defend those torpedoes and if they got real close, they could skim the hull, doing damage with their phasers against the unshielded hull. In the shadow of the hull, where the ship's phasers couldn't fire.

"Wraith, be careful of friendly fire!" The phasers on starships were huge generators of destructive energy. But the ability to rapidly target a small object, just wasn't a part of their job. The big phasers were to kill big ships. While the Tertiary Hull was creating a wall of deadly energy to kill the torpedoes, it could just as easily hit Cole.

"Babygirl, we keep those fighters off of Wraith's tail. Forget kills, keep them away!"

On her sensors, Veronique saw the details of Babygirl changing attitude and then thrusting towards the fighters. And as she fired her own 'burners, one of the enemy fighters fired on Cole.

Babygirl moved in, her concentration on the targetting computer, it changed to a deep red and called out 'FIRE.' Depressing the firing stud on her stick, Babygirl's fighter released a hail of phaser fire, the steerable emitters had done the best to adjust for Babygirl's attitude, range and velocity. It was a partial success. The ship hadn't exploded, but one of the main thrusters had exploded, changing the Hydran fighter's course drastically. A split second later, the main drives had cut and the fighter was drifting, intermittent flaring coming from attitude thrusters as the pilot tried to get control. He was out of the game.

As Babygirl returned her attention to the fight, her fighter screamed out a collision klaxon. It was joined by her, as she saw a piece of wreckage, aiming straight for her cockpit. Blue energy seemed to fill the cockpit. Even in her flight suit, she could feel the heat of systems exploding. She knew she was going to die, and she prayed.

A few moments later, she opened her eyes suprised to find herself alive. Her flight suit was intact, but her fighter wasn't. Using the suit's radio, she sent out a mayday. Hoping someone would hear it at the same time promising herself, she would never ever leave the comfort of a bridge ever again. She left flying fighters because it was suicide, this well bloody confirmed it for her.

Veronique moved in, it left two fighters, "Wraith, we've lost Babygirl. It's two on one here and you've got twenty seconds.

1774