"Team Work"

[Backpost]

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief

Ensign Colby Elliot, Operations Officer

Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Operations Officer

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

Ops Center, Deck 9

After meeting with Commander Henderson, Lt. Tarin had headed back to the Ops center, her head filled with a giant list of things to be accomplished for the relief effort to succeed. Depositing herself unceremoniously in her office chair she let the PADDs in her hands scatter across the desk's surface. To pull this off she would need her entire department, and in tip-top shape. Quickly activating her desktop console she composed a short message to the department, calling everyone to a meeting in one hour.

Jamson was in one of the cargo bays on deck 38, inspecting and cataloging many of the crates and supplies which were intended for the Trill homeworld, when the captain announced ship-wide the latest happenings. At first, he ignored the message and continued his work, but moments later his thoughts already sunk in, he was able to understand the disaster and it's implications. It was evident that in a short time, the entire vessel would move into alert. Like a well oiled machine, the Galaxy and its crew members would prove their reputation not just as universe saviors, but as regular Starfleet officers doing their jobs. Leaving the puzzled operations officers at the bay, he quickly made his way to Tarin's office.

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

A little less than an hour later, Iniara emerged from her office and headed towards the briefing room at the back of Ops. Several officers had already arrived but some were still missing. They weren't late yet, so she quietly took a seat at the head of the table and waited.

It was quiet, nothing but whispers and pure concern in the air. No loud chit chatting or laugher, just whispering. Michael was troubled but was able to hide it very well, he had no love for Trills, but they didn't deserve such a fate. He would have loved to say he didn't wish such a doom to his worst enemies, but he couldn't do just that since hatred and revenge were still a vital part of his life. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he waited for all the operations members to arrive.

What had begun as nothing more then a tragedy had slowly formed into something griming in Colby's mind and despite trying to return to his duties he was unable to reconcile the thoughts that had come up while staring at the computer screens. Moving into the room Colby found a seat and took it, waiting to hear about the relief he knew he would be part of, it bothered him that he had come to the conclusion that he had and was totally brushed off when it came to explaining his view.

Once everyone had arrived, Iniara stood, taking stock of the assembled group. There were several Trill faces out there; she hoped they were holding up under the stress of the situation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate your attendance on such short notice," she began. "As you are no doubt aware by now, a starship has crashed into Leran Manev, causing an obscene amount of destruction to a large portion of the city."

In the back someone gasped quietly. Iniara wondered if the crewman had slept through the Captain's address, or if he was just incredibly dense.

"The circumstances surrounding this tragedy are still unknown, but at the moment they are not our primary concern. As Operations Officers, we will function primarily in a support role. Our main duties will be to coordinate and support the rescue and relief efforts.

"Planetside, we will need to assist with the setup of medical stations, coordinate with the rescue parties, and maintain an adequate level of supplies for all personnel involved. Aside from regular duties, shipboard personnel will need to assist all other departments, help coordinate supply runs, handle emergency medical transports, and of course keep the shuttle bays and cargo bays from becoming a chaotic mess. The ship's sensors will also be used to scan for life signs in the rubble, so we will need several people monitoring them at all times.

"And so, until this is over, I would like everyone working double shifts: ideally splitting the time between shipboard duties and planetside support."

She paused for a moment, letting the inevitable grumbling and sighs die down. "It's a monumental task, but this is what we are trained to do."

Michael raised his hand. "Yes Lieutenant?" Tarin responded. "Planetside, I suggest we assemble several away teams, comprised mainly of Operations members and other crew members from other departments" he said. "This is of the utmost important, like you've mentioned, sir, that we assemble stations on the planet as quickly as possible. I suggest that Ensign Colby and I lead the main away teams to the crash site. Other away teams should focus on field hospitals and aid stations, as well as supply points outside the cities".

"What of radiation?" Ensign Parks asked.

"Depending on the state of the core we'll not have to worry about radiation," Colby replied. Wanting to speak for himself rather then letting other assholes chime in for him. "The ship's containment systems are designed to seal off in such situations and unless the safety measures around the core were taken offline it's safe to assume that the main thing we have to worry about is the damage done by the crash, not by factors let off by the ship." Had the ship been built at a time when capitalism reigned it would have cost billions of dollars; ships of the fleet were designed with nearly every safety measure that could be thought up in order to protect not only the crew but any surrounding elements there might be. You could shoot a nuke from ancient earth and nothing would happen, but hit the detonator and you were in trouble, the core was the same way and Colby was surprised anyone would not take the safety measures into account. Then again, this whole thing did have the stink of man made about it and even if not, there was enough fear and uncertainty in the air to make anyone leap to conclusions.

Iniara stepped back, activating the main display screen at the head of the room. "I have a compiled a list of additional duties and tasks required for this to succeed. Some of you have already been assigned to specific jobs. I ask the remainder of you to take a look at this list, either here or on your own time, and volunteer for anything you can handle. Don't wear yourselves out, but at the same time I don't want to see people slacking off."

"I'll enter the saucer," Colby said then shook his head, dropping his original theory that was, apparently, not important enough to listen to by higher members of the command staff. "I'll enter the ship and check if there are any survivors on board," he explained, "After that I'll asses any shift risk there is with the wreckage of the vessel, we don't want it sliding across more of the city."

"Good. I guess that leaves the rest of ship's wreckage to you Michael," Iniara continued.

Jamson just nodded.

Grasping the back of her chair, Iniara looked over the room once more. Many crewmen seemed anxious to get to work, and an unfortunate few seemed to be fighting a losing battle with their emotions. She decided to wrap it up.

"Too many people have lost their lives already, but with your help we can curb further losses. Remember, you are Starfleet's best. Stay focused; keep your mind on your work. One way or another, we will get through this. Dismissed."

People started wandering off to their tasks, some of them still lingering behind when Tarin signaled Michael and Elliot to approach her. "Guys. This is not going to be easy." She sighed. "Mike. I'm going to need your help and experience on this one."

"Understood Tarin. I'm sure Colby and I can handle it".

Colby stood up and ran a hand through his unkempt hair and looked around. "I know it sounds crazy but," Colby shook his head, "Naw, fuck it, let's go see if we can't keep this thing from getting worse then it already has."

Elliot looked around the room once more before heading out of the meeting room; it was going to be bad down there.

"Arrow to the Heart"

Major Corran Rex

Corran fingered the beat up flight jacket he was wearing. He supposed, given that he was meeting with the President to serve as Starfleet's - and more specifically, the Galaxy's - liaison to her during this crisis, he probably should have at least been in his dress whites, or his seldom used class-A's.

Come to think of it, the newly promoted Major wasn't even sure where either of those uniforms were, it had been that long.

He was walking through the halls of the Capitol Building, having been told that Lirisse was sleeping for the first time in the seventy-two hours since the Akula had crashed into Leran Manev.

His Vanguards were out there even now, flying aerial reconnaissance for the search and rescue parties, and putting their sensors to good use - they were a little bit more effected from a thousand feet up than the Galaxy's were, way up in orbit.

As he'd flown his fighter over the city on his way here, he'd nearly crashed his own ship, having been so devastated at seeing what had happened to the pinnacle of Trill civilization. Leran Manev was, to Trill and non-Trill alike, a place of beauty. The closest things Earth had, he remembered from his days at the Academy had been some of the cities on the European continent - Rome, Venice, Paris, and the like. Leran Manev was far, far older than those, and, by comparison, were farmer's villages.

Not that he'd say that to a human. They got touchy when reminded how young their species really was. Though admittedly, they were single-handedly responsible for more change in the local galactic scene than any species in the last five thousand years.

Maybe there was something to be said for youth.

The sick pit in his stomach was still there even as he walked, trying to shake those feelings. He'd already been in contact with Cass, Corgan, Dobryin, Anna , and Doctor Feinberg in the last twenty minutes, getting updates on all their statuses so he could give Lirisse a proper report.

A young aide came rushing up to him then, just as he leaned on the stonework railing that allowed him his view of the Caves of Mak'ala, the primary site where the Trill symbionts rested. The damaged hulk of the Akula's saucer could be seen even here, the deep scar her crash had laid into the city and the triangular remains of her primary hull seeming to be an arrow directly pointed at Trill's heart.

It only made Corran even more certain that this was no accident. This was an attack, and by all the Gods, whenever Galaxy finally discovered who was responsible...

"Major?" the aide asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes?" Rex said quietly. "I assume Lirisse is awake?"

The young man nodded quickly. "President Durghan's in her office, waiting to see you."

"Well, let's not keep such an important and attractive woman waiting, then." Corran said. He'd meant to say it as a joke, but .. His heart just wasn't in it, he figured as he took a final look at the wreck of the Akula.

“Favours”

“So, until that irritant tr'Khellian stops-”

“I wouldn’t worry yourself, my friend,” the senator assured his associate.

Proconsul Omar and his friend (the esteemed Senator t’Murni) were in the middle of their weekly relaxing massage at the country club Omar owned.

Well, relaxing wasn’t exactly the right word – because the two men always had vehement political scheming sessions. But this session was about to become a lot less relaxing, such as it was.

Suddenly, a stern-faced centurion walked into the massage room.

“Proconsul, there is a priority-1 message for you.” With that, the soldier left the room without another word.

Omar immediately got up and, after apologising to t’Murni, headed into the adjacent room. He activated the comlink, careful not to drip any water onto the screen – he had showered just before the massage. Priority-1 meant it was one of his operatives in the Tal Shiar, and it required immediate attention.

Atole Tekri’s face appeared and Omar allowed himself to relax a little. She had a relatively routine assignment (managing security at the Rihannusu-Terran embassy.) Omar had been worrying that it was one of his more critically assigned operatives making the call – priority-1 messages were carefully scheduled, and an unexpected one was rarely good.

“Captain Tekri,” the proconsul smiled. “What may I do for you? If you don’t mind though, make it brief since I have my weekly massage to get back to.”

A scowl momentarily appeared on Tekri’s face, before vanishing as quickly as it had come.

“Proconsul,” she said. “I would like to have permission to board the USS Galaxy, and visit Lieutenant Commander James Corgan.”

This time the proconsul laughed out loud. “Please don’t tell me you are calling across subspace for a joke. I know your feelings for that human security officer, but seeing him again is a practical impossibility. I would let you, but Starfleet certainly won’t. You caused an incident, and were fortunate to escape without punishment. Don’t go too far.”

Tekri’s face now turned stern. “With due respect, proconsul, you owe me.”

“How?” he demanded. “You went on a Tal Shiar mission-”

“A mission that was undoubtedly unsanctioned,” she smirked. “I seriously doubt you had the senate’s approval, did you?”

Omar stopped smiling. “Do not annoy the proconsul of the Rihannsu empire, captain,” he growled. But he knew he had little choice – Tekri was right.

And she knew that he knew. “Thank you,” she took his reply as an affirmative, and signed off.

The proconsul stared at the blank screen for several moments, before standing. He would have to delay t’Murni further – he had a long-range subspace message to send.

A message to Starfleet Command.

off: this is a little backpost. we just got to trill here. i meant to get this out last week but it didn't want to be written, so sorry.

"Profaning Temples"

8-ball Hunter

"So, this is what the fourth ring of Hell looks like," 8-ball muttered to herself as she looked around at Trill.

You could easily tell that it had once been a beautiful city. Somehow, that seemed to make the devestation even more noticeable, kind of like looking at a scar on the face of Snow White. You'd notice it so much more than if the same scar was placed on some ordinary face.

Before the Galaxy had arrived at Trill, 8-ball had been trying to do six different things at once, including tracking down the elusive-not-so-mute now Ella Grey so she could do a big girl gabfest. Unfortunately, 8-ball couldn't find her in Engineering, was forced to go back to work, and ran around with the rest of the crew as if she was a decapitated chicken. There had been so much to do, it was staggering. Now, as she stood on Trill, looking around her, she felt like she didn't know where to begin.

In that, at least, 8-ball knew she wasn't alone. It seemed like almost every Galaxy officer had paused in midmotion as they had stepped off the ship, frozen as they stared at what had once been a beautiful city. It seemed like people were everywhere, people searching for relatives, people searching for children, people trying to secure the structural integrity of buildings, people trying to heal wounded Trill. People trying to do anything but just stand there and stare. And yet that was the easiest thing to do. Nothing like mass devestation to make you feel like a deer in the headlights.

8-ball tried to shake off that feeling of loss and began to move forwards. She had come down with a mixed team of people: science officers, engineers, anybody who wanted to help, but quickly she had managed to separate from them, and for once, not on purpose. While it was true that 8-ball liked her freedom and often would try to shake off annoying commanding officers that cared more about the prime directive than God, 8-ball didn't want to be alone in this mess. It was all the more easy to feel helpless.

Not sure where the others were or exactly what to do, she moved towards a row of houses. They had definitely been hit by the damage (~what in the city, hadn't?~ 8-ball wondered) but they seemed to be mostly stable. 8-ball didn't really feel like doing a Trill-Run-Through-The-Collapsing-Houses obstacle stint. She'd probably lose.

Walking around and checking the perimeter of the first house one more time, trying to assess the structural integrity as best as she could without knowing much about it, 8-ball walked inside and called, "Hello? Is anyone in here? Is anyone hurt?"

The silence was deafening. That was another strange feature of any place that had been hit by a sudden devestation. In one place, the noise would be so loud you really couldn't hear yourself think. Things crashing, people screaming. . .there was so much going on that it was almost impossible to take in anything you saw. But there were also the places were everything was just so completely silent that your own breathing sounded loud and somehow profane, as if audibly desecrating a temple. This was one of those latter places. The sound of her own footsteps on the wooden floor echoed through the house.

She walked from room to room, checking to make sure nobody was lying unconscious or dying, and moved quickly on to the next house. It occured this probably wasn't a part of her job, as a Science Officer, but she figured the science could be damned. There were other people in her department after all, and 8-ball couldn't imagine that trying to find injured people could ever really be a bad thing.

After four houses of utter silence, 8-ball walked inside of a small one on the end of the street and immediately stopped in the entrance way. Softly, from somewhere in the back of the house, was a distinctive crying sound, obviously a child's. 8-ball walked in and called, "Hello!"

The crying continued. Something in the back of the house fell over, and 8-ball could hear footsteps. "I'm not here to hurt anyone," 8-ball called as she walked slowly forward, her hands in the air even though she knew no one was directly looking at her. "I just want to help."

A few minutes of muffled talking, and a voice, overly loud and trying too hard to sound confident, said, "Who are you?"

"My name's 8-ball," 8-ball said, still slowly moving. She didn't want whatever children were in the back. . .she was beginning to think there were at least two sets of voices. . .to run away from her and hide. "I'm a Starfleet officer. I live on a ship called the Galaxy. We're only here to help. I promise I won't hurt you."

There was a long pause. Finally, a small girl stomped out and stood a good distance away from 8-ball, judging her suspicously. 8-ball watched back silently. The girl could be no older than ten. She would have most likely been one of those adorable blonde little girls if she wasn't completely covered in dirt, and her face wasn't wrecked by tears. She stood with her fists closed, head up, the picture of intimidation, if she wasn't shaking like a leaf. The crying sound 8-ball had heard before was even louder now, but it wasn't coming from the little girl. She was trying to protect whoever else was in the house.

Finally, the little girl said, "Do you promise that you're not going to hurt us?"

8-ball nodded. "I promise. I just want to help, I swear."

The girl stared at her for another minute and then nodded. "Okay. My brother's back here." She walked to the back room of the house and 8-ball followed her. Sitting on the floor was another blond child, just as dirty as the little girl. He was also crying into the shoulder of a body on the floor.

"God," 8-ball whispered under her breath.

She knelt down next to the woman's body on the floor. Even without getting her tricorder out, 8-ball could tell that this woman was dead. There was a large piece of the ceiling that had fallen and landed on her torso, probably crushing her pelvic bone as well as many of her organs. 8-ball wasn't a medical examiner but just by guessing, 8-ball didn't think the impact had killed her instantly. Blood had pooled around her waist and dripped down the sides of her legs. The woman had probably bled out.

The little boy holding one of her arms looked up at 8-ball. "Why won't she wake up?" He looked to be about three years old. 8-ball didn't think he understand what death was.

Looking at the little girl, 8-ball could see that she did. "Is she. . ." the girl said and trailed off, looking at the little boy.

8-ball checked the tricorder to be absolutely sure but nodded. "Was she your mother?"

The girl nodded and looked at the ground. She hastily put hands up to her cheeks, brushing away tears, and 8-ball felt herself swallow. She mentally told her emotions to shut up. She could cry about these kids later. First she had to help them and becoming a weepy, hysterical mess was not going to do that. Still, she had to swallow again and look away, trying not to think

~T'Pol, there's been an accident~

about how these kids were going to manage without their

~The shuttle carrying your father experienced some malfunctions~

mother. How do you get over the loss of

~There were no survivors. I'm so sorry, T'Pol~

a parent, how do you move on in a world in which you are completely

~Your father's gone~

alone.

8-ball shook her her head and looked back at the little girl. "What's your name?"

"Azra."

"Okay. Do you know if you have any family living in the city?"

The little girl nodded again. "My. . .my uncle. He lives here."

8-ball thought for a minute and then moved closer to where the little girl was standing. She didn't move backwards, so 8-ball figured that was a good sign. "Okay, Azra, I need you to listen to me for a minute. This house might not be safe for you or your brother for very long. It might start to collapse in on itself, and that would trap you in it. Now, I know you don't know me very well, but I'd like you and your brother to come with me. We'll get you out of the house, get you two some medical attention, and see if we can find your Uncle. Is that okay with you?"

Azra instantly frowned at the idea of leaving, but also looked up at the ceiling and then back at her little brother. "I won't let anything happen to him," 8-ball said to the little girl. "I promise."

Azra continued to frown at her for a minute, and then said, "All right." She moved over to where the little boy was sitting, still crying. "Kaden, we're going to go now."

Kaden looked up at her. "She won't wake up," he said.

"I know," Azra said. "But we have to go now. We're going to see Uncle Maan. Okay? Come here."

Kaden sniffled and moved over to Azra. Azra picked him up but could barely hold him. He was too big for her. 8-ball looked at the two of them, not sure if she should interfere or not. Finally, she said, "If you think you'd both be okay with it, I could probably hold him."

Azra frowned again but led Kaden over to 8-ball, who looked at him. "My name's 8-ball," she said to him. "What's yours?"

"Kaden," Kaden said. He had very wide, innocent looking eyes. "Your name is funny."

"Kaden!" Azra said sharply, glancing at 8-ball's face to see her reaction. 8-ball shrugged and smiled at Kaden.

"It is kinda funny, huh," 8-ball said as she slowly moved the children out of the room, painfully aware she was leaving their dead mother behind. "I should have been named Kaden. That's a neat name. Can I be named Kaden?"

Kaden was still rubbing his eyes from tears but began to smile a little. "No. My name's Kaden."

"But it's so cool! Come on, we can trade. You'd make a very good 8-ball."

Kaden's smile grew. Azra's face never changed. 8-ball knew Kaden couldn't understand what was really happening yet. "No, I'm Kaden! Me!!!"

"Oh, all right, but I think you're being very silly about all of this," 8-ball said. The three of them left the house, Kaden in 8-ball's arms, Azra walking close but being careful not to actually touch 8-ball. Everything around them looked silent and dead.

"Let's go this way and see if we can find your uncle, okay?" 8-ball said, and they walked through the streets, as quietly as they could be in the thick, claustrophobic silence.

"Run Argo, Run!"

By Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
And Lieutenant jg Claire Barnes

Location: Leran Manev, Business District

"GO! GUN THE MOTOR!"

The Argo, the USS Galaxy's on board all terrain vehicle, let loose its bellowing, supercharger heavy roar as the accellerator was pushed to its maximum, springing the tough duranium sided, sleek, rollcage festooned monster on four spiralled, tractor-like claw wheels.

Gouts of dust and mortar sprayed like a quintet of dirt grey geysers from the pavement clinging wheels. wheels. Rescue workers backed off from the land leviathan of a vehicle that towered over their tiny bodies, watching the Argo speed, yet stay still.

Rubble shifted as a nimbus blue light swirled and sputtered from the Argo's rear position. Lieutenant Commander James Corgan monitored carefully the light and its source; a boxy projection mounted on the sponson which once housed the Argo's main offensive weaponry. He then stared back at his instruments, reading out the rubble's structural integrity predictions charts, the fluctuations in the beam of light, and the status of his equipment.

As he could see, the portable tractor emitter worked flawlessly on the Argos, despite it being a drain on its batteries. It held a pillar of ferrous concrete and tangled steel support rods in its crystal beam, but was snagged on a heavy piece of debris that was proving to be very stubborn.

"Rock it, Lieutenant!" James ordered the driver, "Stop, then go! Stop then go!"

The Argo powered to a halt, then was jerked back into life, scrabbling at the pavement as the debris shifted on the tractor emitter's beam, but wiggled more like a stubborn loose tooth. Argo stopped, the accelerated again.

Three attempts, and the pillar tore itself free, scraping like rock before being held up in midair. Being free from its tether, the Argo shot down the street, even in its deceleration. She halted, squealing her tires in a slight skid, as James gently set the pillar down.

"Good driving, Claire! We got it!" James hooted, slapping the shoulder of the driver's seat.

Grinning, Claire nodded, "Thanks. Haven't done this sort of thing since back at the Academy, but its fun."

"Best to get some fun while we can." Corgan commented in a grim cast, being a much more serious, dour soul than Claire, "We're on a humanitarian mission this time around. There won't be many opportunities for fun and joyrides."

The truth be told, James didn't like to hear 'fun' when all he saw was a disaster area. In the couple hours he spent on Trill, he saw the dead and suffering being pulled from the ruins; broken bodies or spirits freed from reluctant, collapsed buildings. The majority of the injured civilians were adults, dressed in dirty remnants of business suits as was the style of Trills during the working hours, and each possessed a dispirited look to them that asked 'why?'.

James could forgive Claire for one little fault. She had plenty of spunk, and unlike James she had yet to see entire planets in the same state as one Trill city.

~"She couldn't be immune."~ James thought, curious as to what was really going on in her head, ~"I can see someone trying to keep from crying over this."~

"Let's go to the next one, Lieutenant!" James ordered, "Same spot, the concrete slab on top. A few more and we'll reach those lifesigns down there."

"Aye aye, El Capitano."

Slamming the shift into full, she spun the control wheel to turn it around.

The Argo rumbled back to it's spot, as James activated the tractor emitter on the chunk of ferrous concrete.

"Hey Claire." Corgan asked somberly, "How are feeling out here?"

"Pretty good, but I wish someone would shoot at us so I get to use some of the nice toys I brought down."

James looked down into the Argo's available floorspace, now eaten up by Claire's equipment. James' feet were resting on a photonic launcher, unloaded and powered down. To his side was Claire's phaser rifle, with power cell reloads strapped to the stock, an ungodly assortment of modifications (most which James couldn't identify by the naked eye...). Her photon grenades clustered like a basket of eggs in one corner, and another held a modified type two phaser. Her swords, a Japanese katana and wakizashi, were to his left. The equipment he saw was on top of other possessions, also Claire's.

"Do you know what I usually pack?" James asked.

"Not much I am guessing."

"A type one phaser, on an ankle holster, and a type two on my hip. In combat, a long rifle with scope... though with my eye messed up I have to settle for a type three. Maybe a boot knife and some extra clips. That's it. All I needed. And as for today... just my type two, and a type three on the Argo. Get what i'm saying?"

"Not really."

"Claire, let me give you advice." Corgan stated, "Too much equipment gives you fatigue. You have to tote it around. You have to maintain it. And for today, you probably won't need most of it. If you wanted to overload yourself with equipment, you should have brought search and rescue stuff. Rope, a phaser with cutting and clearing settings programmed inside, bolt cutters, repair kit, a small medkit, that sort of stuff. The worse we'll see is a riot or two... and for that a type two on wide stun setting is more than sufficient."

"I have that stuff too.. Its just hidden under the ammo. I knew we had room in here anyway."

James had to sigh. "Aye...." His voice escaped as a breathy, exasperated hiss. Like himself in his old days, Claire could be... quirky. James forgot what monumental patience it took to put up with the foibles of his companions.

And he did consider the headstrong, gung ho Claire Barnes as a friend, especially in a firefight. So to give the Lieutenant a modicrum of dignity, James smiled back and continued to his work.

It was when he was about to target the next slab of concrete that he heard a rocky 'snap' to his left. He gave the area to his left shoulder a cursory glance to find its source.

A short, 18 storey skeletoned tower, now concrete and beams where there should have been windows, was showing an split at the base. Another resounding crack, and the split grew, from the ground to the first floor.

"Claire, hold on." Corgan motioned for her to halt, "Let me get a reading from the tricorder first before we go. I think I see something..."

James flipped out his tricorder, a security model, but handy enough to do basic engineering work. He punched in the code to activate the tricorder's structural integrity sensors. Waving the tricorder in the direction of the split, he took readings and waited for the results.

The crack he scanned was large, and it was growing. Other areas inside that the tricorder could scan through like an x-ray showed even more serious damage, expecially at the building's vital pillars. Scanning the basement, James found the power to the building also cut off. Structural failure prediction models showed up in red where future fractures and damages would occur in a slow, snaking pattern, until the whole building went red.

Power readings into the building were unsuccessful. Therefore, power was also out in the building, so structural integrity fields were also offline.

"Holy... sh*t. She's going to fall." James shivered, "...right on us."

"Aye.. Better burn rubber quick then."

"Belay that, Lieutenant!" Corgan barked, "There could still be people inside!" He switched the tricorder functions to lifeform scanning and waved it at the entire building. Multiple lifeforms were showing up, at least a dozen, in various floors. "SHIT! There are people inside! You wouldn't happen to have a bullhorn in big pile of crap of yours, wouldn't you?"

Claire laughed loudly, "Yep, coz I don't want to wear my voice out screaming at civilians."

"Great!" Corgan growled, diving his hand into the morass of equipment to fish out Lt. Barnes bullhorn. His hand felt a plastic handle. He pulled, shifting the pile and carrying the weight of a dozen other items, until the bullhorn came free. He quickly flicked on a switch, and yelled into the conelike object, "Attention all personnel! You are in a structurally unsafe area! Vacate the..." He saw the sign on the building, "...OmniLogic tower and the surrounding area immediately! I repeat, vacate the area immediately! This building is in danger of collapse!"

His voice boomed over the bullhorn like a commandment from God! A Trill firefighter's head poked out of the window, and answered in kind, "We'll be out right away, but we have someone trapped under a beam! We need time!"

Firefighters and injured civilians alike exited the building with methodic haste. Blood covered ghosts too injured or exhausted to walk on their own were supported by soot covered rescue workers. All around the area, people fled swiftly, some in a practiced, cool manner, others still bloody and dressed in their business attire, running in a full on panic.

Corgan wasn't patient enough to wait. The crack was growing longer, and spiderwebbing into nearly a half dozen other, smaller cracks. The stress spit up dust and grated like a crumbling mountainside.

"Get 'em out of there! NOW!" He commanded.

"We need more time! A minute, at least!" The firefighter insisted.

"Christ sakes..." Corgan grumbled at the firefighters, "I'll just try the universal rescue cop out. I'm sure they can spare a minute or two..." He reached to his comm-badge, tapping twice, "Corgan to Galaxy, target the building beside my co-ordinates and beam out all lifesigns, now."

=/\="Transporter Room to Corgan, no can do."=/\= Came the reply from the ship, crackling a disembodied voice through the communicator, =/\="We're working with Trill transport command to do a mass transport at a disaster area. It's touch and go, and there are thousands trapped. If you give us a minute, we might be able to do it."=/\=

"In a minute, we'll be one with this building! Hurry up!"

=/\="Sorry sir, but I can't do it! Your area is too unstable and we're needed elsewhere. Give us a minute. Transporter room out=/\=

Corgan dropped the bullhorn in impotent fury. He could understand the firefighter's plight; and in some way he could comprehend the transporter department's overwhelming task list. It was hard to leave someone behind. But in a choice between the many and the few...

His hand rested on the tractor emitter.

He could buy the firefighters all the time they needed.

"Claire, all power to the tractor emitter, now! We're going to prop up that building." Corgan set to work on the emitter, resetting the frequency and setting to accomodate what was, in theory, practically insane. "I'm going to channel everything we got into the emitter and use it to support the building. Make it happen on your end."

Claire spun, turning to him, "Are you nuts? There is no way near enough power for that. Respectfully, do you have a death-wish, Sir?"

"Not all the time, Lieutenant! I'm quite aware of that, and the worse that can happen is that the Argo, emitter, motor, powercells and all will overload and cook us like a turkey on thanksgiving." Corgan nodded, a grim smile etched on his face, "And if we are not killed in the ensuing overload, we most certainly will die when countless tonnes of building come falling down upon us. Did I mention that we won't be able to outrun it?"

"Oh, in that case, it sounds good. I hope you bought life insurance."

"I never do. Besides, you'd think that a young up and comer like yourself would look forward to the post humous medals that this could bring. Did you reroute everything to the emitter?"

"Maybe, but there could be better ways. All power switched over."

"Alright... finding a firing solution... activating tractor emitter... now!"

Upon the push of a button, the boxy emitter shot out a nimbus blue light. James aimed the emitter at the centre of the building, right where the beam would make the most of its structural aide. The beam smacked the building with a whistle and a smack, as the base was gnawed away by the spiderwebbing cracks. Masonry and concrete crumbled away, and support beams gnarled and snapped...

But the building did not topple over. It tried to lurch, but was held in place my the emitter. The Argo's wheels furrowed a few inches of ground, and James felt the vehicle's brief push by the building, but for the time being all looked well.

"YES!" James smacked a fist into his palm! "Take that you dirty..."

*Beebeep! Beebeep!* *Beebeep! Beebeep!*

His attention now back to the emitter, James could clearly see that every console therein was in the red. Red font, red graphs, red controls, flashing red warning signs... everything was red.

He then looked over to the Argo's vehicle controls. So too was everything red. Suspension, cells, even the power plant and motor. And most importantly, structure.

The Argo, a three tonne all terrain vehicle with a hastily improvised, miniaturized tractor beam, was no match for a downtown office skyscraper determined to fall to sweet terra firma. The Argo scraped ground again, lurching Claire and James back and forth, just to remind them both of this dreadfully woeful fact.

"F**K!" Corgan cursed, flinching instinctively as the emitter started to spark, shake, and smoke at the same time. Projection readings were going well beyond the equipment's theoretical limits, and the stresses on the parts showed in even more warning graphs. The emitter was close to either exploding, or burning out; both results threatening to kill everyone inside.

James scooped up the bullhorn. "HURRY UP! We're not going to last long out here! MOVE IT!" As he dropped the bullhorn to pay attention to the tractor emitter, James muttered, "Oh Jesus, oh jesus, oh jesus... Claire! Watch the Argo! Try to stabilize her as long as you can! I'll try to keep the emitter from failing!"

Claire growled and ignored the comments, finding it amusing about the swearing though. They did fit in well, since she had been told she could swear like the best troopers and often did. Now wasn't the time as she rerouted circuits as fast as was possible.

"Oh f**k, oh f**k, oh f**k..." James kept stuttering, his hands flying over the controls to keep the emitter stable. The beam was fluctuating and sputtering, a sign that the emitter crystal was burning out at an incredible rate. At the rate it was moving, there would be no crystal left; that was, if it didn't explode first. He adjusted the setting, compensating for dear life while watching in dismay the power levels of the Argo drop steadily.

"F**king hell! Another problem! That battery is draining fast! Find some emergency power, quick!" Corgan ordered, withdrawing his finger as he felt a forboding zap of electricity vibrate his finger."

"We don't have any power left. Even AC power and the small flashing lights are pushing all power to that emitter and the wheels. I suggest to try & hail for a beam-out. They won't dock our salary too much I hope."

"Corgan to Transporter Room! We're in a world of hurt here! Get your asses in gear! We can't hold this building on for much longer!"

Over the static of his comm badge, James heard frantic screamings, and the whoosh of a fire extinguisher. =/\="We can't do it, sir! We just blew out a Heismann compensator and two power converters in the last mass beamout! We need another minute! Transporter room out!"=/\=

"F**K SAKES! Always another minute!"

The Argo was losing the sumo match against the building; its opponent outweighting the ATV by a factor of 100 to 1. But be that as it may, the Argo held out bravely, sparking like a sweating prize fighter, its beam of light holding stone and steel at bay.

A firefighter emerged from the building, cradling a elderly man in a business suit. He waved for the Argo, running towards it, yelling, "That's the last of them! Get moving!"

"YOW!" Corgan yelped as the emitter's console blew out, singing his face with hot molten sparks, "GET ON BOARD!"

The emitter's control screen flickered out of existence, its dying breath blinded by red warning signs. The tractor beam still propped up the building, but was in its last dying gasps.

"Shit!" Cursed the frantic security chief, "The damn off switch was electronically controlled on that panel! We can't move until the damn thing shuts off on its own! Claire, on my word, cut power to the tractor emitter and transfer back to propulsion systems! I'll be right back!"

"Damn it." Claire reached in under the console and started ripping out circuity that lead to the emitter., throwing it behind.

The firefighter and his injured charge were making slow progress to the Argo, having to clear a length of street strewn with rubble, underneath a soon to fall building, with injuries hobbling the escape. Slow progress that would not save their lives unless a miracle took form.

Corgan hopped out of the Argo, shielding his eyes as the emitter shot out fresh sparks, releasing the beam temporarily and allowing the building to lurch further. He ran as fast as he could over rubble and refuse, meeting the firefighter and the elderly man half way. "In the Argo! NOW!" Corgan ordered, the exhausted Trill firefighter only too happy to oblige. James bore the load of the injured old man, cradling the pain wracked victim in a fireman's carry, then sprinting with the load back to the Argo.

When he made it to the vehicle, he dumped the old man into the passenger's seat, and joined the firefighter in the back, who was holding onto the Argo's rollcage.

"NOW!"

The tractor emitter sputtered, gasped, and died, its last blue beam flickering off like a dying flashlight. Claire smiled and held up the circuit that was quite charred, "Got it."

The Argo's systems powered up, its batteries indicating it was a sliver above empty, its status screens all in the red.

But she was ready to charge out at the command of Claire's foot upon the accelerator, in which Claire was doing even when the Argo had yet to draw power into her used up, overstressed motor.

A kick on the pedal, and the beast bellowed a wounded roar like an old fashioned monster truck, its twin spikes of dirt dwarfed by the looming, collapsing bulk of the tower.

James looked up at the oncoming structure in awe. "Here it comes..."

Like the apocalypse visited upon Trill, the building came crashing down in a deafening roar of rushing wind, crumbling concrete, and screaming, twisting steel. Its impact on the ground, like a mountain slide onto solid bedrock, came on like a thunderclap. The dust kicked up obscured all, where only a few rocks were spit out of its expanding periphery, when in reality the noise of the building's collapse spoke of total ruination.

What was left was the floating dust that billowed outwards.

And the roar of the Argo as she appeared out of the rocky mists, her body and the crew that was piloting her coated with gray ash. Its wounded engines coughed and sputtered, powering down to a halt as her inner workings ceased up and refused to go further.

Her last movements were her decelerating crawl to a throng of rescue workers, cheering the Starfleet officers and the firefighter for not only escaping death, but also giving it the finger for a whole minute.

"Holy sh*t." Corgan gasped as he let the scope of what they just did sink in, "We actually did it. I must have been f**king insane..."

"Lt Commander, please don't take this as any sort of insubordination, but the next time we do rescue work, pick someone else."

"Engineers and Marines"

Lt. Commander Brianna "Anna" O'Shea, Chief Engineer / Liaison SCE
2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile Marine Recon Specialist

:: Capital City Trill, Engineers Command Camp::

Brianna was standing there in the shadows of a building drinking from a water canteen. Stepping back she pulled the hypo from her pocket and pressed it to her neck and give her a little stimulate to keep her mind from telling her she was exhausted. Pocketing it she took another drink and then knelt down put the canteen in her pack and then began to scan the building to see if she needed to get her people over here to shore it up.

The rescue site was lit up like a beacon in the dark for the two marines. Sorak walked a few meters behind Baile, securing the back. The two marines watched the people working hard at the site, unnoticed. Not that it would have mattered even if there had been guards. The marines would still have gone unnoticed. Baile was the first one to step into the circle of light, startling the people closest to him. "Evenin'... "

"Taking a walk in the park, Baile?" Anna asked, covered in dirty, grime and dried blood some hers some not.

Sipping some water from the water pack he shrugged. "Not much else to do here.."

"Instead of just walking around, you could offer some help to one. Say I dunno, me and the other engineers." She said, then knelt down and picked up some rocks to clear a place for the strut she was going to have to put on the building. "Who am I to ask for help, not like you give a shit anyway." She said then looked at him before moving to pick up another rock. "Screw this.." She said as she walked over to Baile pulled his side arm off his waist, set it to vaporize and began to vaporize the rocks. "Save your backs... vaporize them." Anna said as she began to vaporize rocks.

Baile reacted instantly and without hesitation. In less than a heartbeat Anna found herself disarmed and in a very painful wristlock. "What the hell are you doing?" Baile asked her with more than a little surprise in his voice. Sorak had just as quickly taken a step back and raised his rifle, keeping an eye on the people around them.

"Doing my job... might I remind you I am a higher ranking officer, Baile. With your hand." Anna said as she looked at him. If anyone Baile knew how she got when she was tired. "If you want your phaser back, take it... I can get others."

"Fuck that... " Baile replied, still maintaining the wristlock. But he signaled to Sorak to stand down. "I don't give a fuck if you're the General Marshall himself.. " The Marine said evenly. When would NCO's learn that they couldn't go on without rest? No one would thank them if they dropped dead from exhaustion.

"I'm giving you a direct order, release my wrist." Anna said, she got right in his face. "You have three seconds before I summon security."

"And tell them what? That you took my sidearm, without permission, started shooting around you and that I disarmed you?" Baile shook his head. She should be glad she was still conscious.

"I did not shoot around. I vaporized rocks to save the backs of my personnel. We've been working our asses off, what exactly have you been doing besides walking around?" Anna asked. She finally got her wrist free and then moved to clear away the last few smaller rocks.

"Nothing... we've been sitting on our asses getting a tan.. what the fuck do you think we've been doing?"

"Don't ask me questions right now... don't think you'll like the answers." Anna said as she motioned for them to move the strut in and secure the building. "Once your done, go back to the ship, get some rest and something to eat." She said then looked at Baile and began to walk toward the engineering command camp where she'd had her planning area.

"Two things.. We're under orders to clear a building. After that we have to jog back the 3 clicks we jogged to get here and then jog another 8 clicks for the next point. Second - Marines tells Marines what to do - not Starfleet." There was something not right. "Sorak. Secure the entrance. I'll be right with you." he told the Vulcan and waited until he was out of earshot.

"Whatever, I don't have time to deal with you right now." Anna said walking away.

The marine walked after her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. "How long have you been up?"

"Wasn't it not more then five minutes ago you were telling me I couldn't talk to marines?" She asked, looking at him. "Doesn't matter how long I've been up." She said as she tried to get out of his grip, but damn, the more she moved the tighter he felt on her arm and waist.

"It does when you act like an idiot." he wasn't ready to let her go this easy. Although he wasn't not be the most social of people, Baile wanted an explanation why Anna had taken his sidearm, something she would never do normally. She knew how Marines reacted to such things. Anna was lucky her wrist was still in one piece.

"What do you want hear, Baile? I'm tried, I want off this damn planet? I'm tired of by back aching, my hands pleading and the feeling of my hair sticking to my face? The realization that my people are tired, hungry, dirty and realizing I can't bring anyone back from this. That what you needed to hear? hmm? Is it?" Anna asked, relaxing now in his grip.

He had seen places far worse than this. But that wasn't the point. The point was Anna hadn't. Starfleet rarely had to see the misery up close and for very long and Baile was fine with that. That's what the Marines were for. To deal with the war up close and personal. "No.. " he replied calmly. "But I think you needed to say it."

"Doesn't matter what I need." Anna said, still held by him. "Look around, you think it matters what I think and feel right now? I'm insignificant in the wake of this."

This time the Marine shrugged. "You're right. You're insignificant.. but the moment you put your head up your ass like you have then people suffer needlessly."

"My head is not up my ass." Anna replied. "Can you let me go, now?" She asked, then looked at him. "I'm fine, Baile."

He shook his head. "Anna... Stims will fuck up the judgment... sleep is better, even if it's just five minutes."

"What makes you think I'm taking stims?" Anna asked, still looking at him.

"C'mon... " the marine responded. "I come from Special Ops.. stimulants is as common as candy there."

Anna sighed. "Yeah... so I'm taking stims." She said. "I do it when I need to keep awake." She said, then sighed as she reached into her pocket and showed him the hypo.

Baile sighed. He had hoped he had been reading it wrong. "Get some sleep instead. Trill won't fall cause you get some eye shut."

Anna felt him release her. "I can't.." She said, as she put the hypo back in her pocket. "I've got several more buildings to take care of. Maybe after that I will." Anna said as she reached for a canteen to get some water.

"It's not negotiable. Do it, or I'll call in one of the medics to give you a sedative."

"Marine can't order Starfleet." She said, mocking him about his earlier comment.

"Who says it's an order... " Baile replied evenly. The tone of his voice told her he wasn't joking. He would call in a medic and have her sedated and beamed back in a second if she tried to call his hand. "I'm stating facts."

"Hadn't you better go find your little friend?" Brianna asked as she looked at him. "Soon as I make out the orders for the next shift, I'll go." Anna said, yaeh right, soon as he was out of sight she was getting back to work.

"Suit yourself... " Baile shrugged and activated the voice link. "Bravo to Base."

"Base camp here, go ahead Bravo leader."

"On my position. Need a medic. Site secured and ready for beam."

"Bravo leader we can't spare one right now. Use your desecration, treat as you would. Once you tag the patient, activate the emergency transport."

Anna looked over at Baile. "Don't you dare, or so help me hell will take it's pay out of your ass."

"Roger that Base. Bravo leader out." Closing the link Baile turned to Anna. "It wouldn't be the first time. You're unfit for duty until you get some rest. You think that new promotion is going to last if they find out that you took my firearm? Don't try to intimidate me, Anna.. it won't work.. "

"You think I got this promotion cause I caved in and rested when there was work to be done?" Anna asked, then looked back down at the staging table. "I got this promotion because I'm good at what I do and I get results."

Baile shrugged. A part of him couldn't care less what she did to herself. "I'm sure you are.... tell you what... why don't you just shoot yourself full of stims, go back to work and loose more people." he knew that would sting, and it was hardly fair to Anna. Baile doubted she would listen now, junkies never did, but who knew, maybe not now then maybe later. He put the hat back on and checked the rifle. "We'll let you know when the building is cleared, ma'am." he continued with a face cut out of stone and a voice as even as a flat line.

Anna turned sharply at him. Her eyes bore into his, she then took the hypo from her pocket and slammed it down on the table. "Take it... I won't be needing it." She said, then turned her attention back to the paper. "You of all people have no right to be so cold toward me, not after what I've seen you do, Baile."

"Then don't bloody lecture me... I've crawled in places that would turn your skin inside out.. " Baile replied with some mild irritation. Mild irritation was a bad sign when it came to Baile. "You're a great engineer, we both know that, but none of you that are down here right now have the experience or the training to deal with it as it stands. Experience and training tells you when to rest and when to push on and you, dough brained gear head, need to rest. The dead people aren't going anywhere, and you can't save the living if you fall into a coma."

Looking at the paper still she sighed. "You know how hard it is for me to leave, Baile?" She asked, coolly. She then looked at him. "I'm so tired of this shit down here but I can't bring myself to leave."

Adjusting the strap on the hat Baile nodded. "I know, but doesn't make it less risky for others to stay here with you around." That last sentence Anna had spoken proved the difference between them. They had been here for barely a full day and people were breaking down and there was no weakness in that, just a normal reaction to an abnormal situation. Baile on the other hand felt nothing. Sure, it was a shame that the ship had hit a city he thought as beautiful, but seeing the bodies lay twisted and burned, randomly throughout the city didn't bother him one bit. It was like she said. He had done things a normal person couldn't even begin to understand.

"So then I'm at an impasse." She replied, looking back to him now.

"Look. Why do you people have to make it more complicated than it is? I'm not telling you to take a vacation or take the day off. I'm telling you to get one or two hours of sleep."

"Fine... I'll go, will that make you happy?" Brianna asked as she stood straight upright again. "Could use a shower and change of uniform as well."

The marine grinned. "I'm fuckin overjoyed.."

"Do me favor?" She asked, "since as you say I can't order you, which I'm going to check on and make sure it's just not a trick. Hang around here and make sure the engineers don't do something stupid?"

"We'll stay as long as we can.. but we got more sites to scout and Security is held up in a thousand different places."

"Okay..." She said then looked around. "I'll be back in a few hours. There's any problems, contact me." Anna said then looked at him, saying thank you, without saying it.

"I will.. " he replied, nodding to confirm the unspoken words. Finally he turned around and headed back to Sorak. "Alright pointy... wake up.. time to go to work.." he shouted loud enough for everyone near them to hear. A true marine never missed a chance to have Fleeters see them as complete jarheads.

Anna reached up and tapped her combadge. "O'Shea to Galaxy... one to beam up." She said, then looked over and felt herself taken from the planet. She'd be back in few hours, count on it.

“Sun and Clouds”

Ensign Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer
Saia Juis (NPC)

Nara gestured to her little helper to come to her. Saia trotted over.

Her injuries were still making her little body sore, but her little girl energy wouldn’t have her staying in bed, so she had followed Nara around. After five minutes of the underfoot shadow, Nara had put Saia to work.

At the moment she was trying to keep people fed. The doctors and nurses got the hint that her intention was to do the menial things such as fill water glasses so that they could be free to do their medical thing. She didn’t speak, but they pretty much had no choice but to trust her. They had an overwhelming amount of people to care for.

She handed Saia a few meal packets and pointed to a few patients in one area. She was giving Saia packets to give to the ones who could open them and feed themselves. Nara had taken to feeding those who, for some reason or other, couldn’t feed themselves.

As she was feeding a young man who could barely keep his eyes open, a nurse came over to her. “Have you eaten today?” Nara simply shook her head. She wasn’t really hungry. The stench would ruin any bit of appetite she did have. Besides, she wanted to be sure all the patients got something first. The nurse sighed, “You need to eat.”

Nara thought a moment. She had no PADD and she didn’t know a sign language and sometimes it wasn’t easy to say what she needed to say. She waved her hand around the tent. The nurse looked confused.

“She means to say that they need to eat first,” a little voice piped in. Saia had stepped up beside Nara, who was nodding her confirmation.

The nurse smiled, “Looks like you got yourself a translator.”

Nara smiled under the shadow her hood cast over her face and nodded and put a hand gently on Saia’s shoulder.

The nurse bent down to Saia, “Well you’re looking better.” She looked at both of them, “Thank you both for your help.” She winked at Saia, “But make sure our mute, caped friend eats something before she ends up on one of these beds.”

Saia smiled, “Yes ma’m.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of hours later, Saia stood beside Nara with her hands behind her back, “Everyone’s gotten a pack. Is this the last one needing food?”

Nara looked around and nodded. Saia held out a pack to Nara. Nara looked at and shook her head pointing at Saia.

Saia smiled, “Nope. I already ate.” She stretched her arm out further and Nara smiled, sighed, nodded and took it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As Nara ate, she looked up at the stars. She was now outside the tent. She longed to remove the cloak, but there were too many eyes and any entrance to the tunnels were too far. She felt like she couldn’t leave Saia. She could tell the girl didn’t have any parents here. It was a close bet they were lost in the crash. She leaned against a tent pole and sighed as she folded the top of the pack closed.

“Did you eat ANY of it?”

Nara turned and Saia stood there like a little guard. Nara nodded and made her index finger and thumb into an open circle.

Saia thought a moment and caught the meaning. “Why don’t you talk?”

Nara frowned. She wanted to talk, but her voice might give her away. She wanted to speak telepathically, but that didn’t seem a good idea either. She simply shrugged.

Saia sat by her, “Do you have a name?”

Nara thought a moment. Her middle name was Sol, which was also the official name of Earth’s sun. She shrugged and drew a circle in the dirt and drew rays. She then pointed at the sky.

Saia looked at her and scrunched her face confused, “Sun?”

Nara shrugged and nodded her head. It would work.

Saia looked at the sun Nara had drawn and got on her knees and started drawing things with her finger. She drew some birds, a mountain and clouds. She studied the clouds and looked at “Sun” and suddenly smiled. She still felt she couldn’t get the cloud right, but it didn’t seem to bother her as much. “Are you going to sleep tonight?”

Nara nodded. She was tired and knew she needed to sleep. She just wasn’t sure how safe it was. She walked back in the tent with Saia and after seeing that Saia was in bed and had water nearby and checking on the others, she finally made her way to a corner of the tent. She lay down on the ground and faced the tent wall assuring the hood covered her face before she finally closed her eyes and fell into the only sleep a troubled, hiding person could get.

"Chastened Mask"

Lieutenant Commander Brianna O'Shea
Chief Engineer

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

The roofless land vessel stopped next to a couple of Engineering officers. Saul Bental leaped out of it, landing on the dust-covered road gracefully. His face and uniform were dirty, with slightly less dirt around the eyes which were obscured by the binoculars most of the time during the last hour or so.

“Ensign Mei Sime?" He asked the oriental Ensign next to him.” Saul Bental. You said you needed to see me immediately?”

“Yes…” The Ensign seemed quite shaken. Saul could understand - he thankfully didn't have time to just look around and fully realize what just happened. He was concentrated on his work, his little plan with Nara and the upcoming 'meeting' with Janny and co., and that distracted him from the horrific disaster around him.

“How can I help?”, he asked, although he could guess. He vaguely recognized the Engineer from the Galaxy, and assumed she was teamed up with Nara before Saul collapsed the gallery on top of the princess' head.

“I... I... you better come with me to Commander O'Shea. She will explain it all…”

Saul noticed that the Ensign's eyes were red. Without a word, he followed her to where Lt.Commander O'Shea was running her operation.

Anna was standing there where she had set up a make shift command area for her people. She looked tired, but her eyes was nevertheless focused on her task at hand. She didn’t give herself luxury to think about Nara, she’d lost people before. She realized early on in her career that you mourn in private. Never forget, realize quickly what takes priority. Looking up at the Vulcan engineering shook her head which made her loosely flowing red hair dance slightly. “No, Jorec, I need you to take blue team and head to that building. It has to be secured, now.” She said looking at him.

“Acknowledged, ‘Commander.” The Vulcan replied and then headed away.

Saul stood quietly, far enough not to disturb her but close enough for her to notice. He calmed himself down by controlling his breathing and running various conversation scripts in his mind. He needed to look surprised, and hurt. After all, Nara was a close friend.

'Here we go...' Saul thought.

Anna didn’t have to look up to know someone was standing there. What she wondered was why exactly was a intelligence officer standing here. Anna didn’t say anything for a few minutes her focus was on finishing off the shoring up of the surrounding buildings. When she finally finished with that she spoke, “Don’t just stand there all day, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” Anna said as she looked over at him finally. She had no idea who he, because usually if she was working with intelligence it was higher ranking then the one before her.

"I was about to ask you the same thing..." Saul retorted. Mei whispered in O'Shea's ear, telling the Chief Engineer of Saul and Nara’s relationship.

Anna couldn’t help but sigh. She really didn’t have time to tell someone their girlfriend was dead right now. Truth was Anna didn’t want to think about it herself right now. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed Mei and looked toward Saul. “It’s been a hard day down here, Lieutenant. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t say this perfectly. Little while ago there was an accident which involved Ensign Roswell. For some unknown reasons she entered a unsecured building and it collapsed into itself, sorry to tell you Ensign Roswell was killed.” Anna said, with as much compassion as she could muster.

As she spoke, Saul formed a vision in his mind. He imagined the building collapsing on Nara before she could reach the tunnel, the sheer weight of the stones crushing her slender body, forcing her to gasp one last time, to desperately attempt to breath as another rock comes down and hits her head in full speed, ripping apart that gentle skin on her cheek... all because of him...

Saul couldn't see his own face, but he knew he looked pale. He suddenly had the urge to sit down, and did so.

Looking up at O'Shea, he trembled slightly, then calmed himself down. It actually took an effort. "Commander, are you sure she's... dead? Was the... was the building scanned for life signs? Did you try to remove the rubble with low-yield phasers? Are you... are you SUIRE?"

Brianna walked over and rested her hand on his shoulder. “We have search and rescue teams combing the site for her remains. There no life-signs present, we are picking on Naranda’s DNA, Saul. I’m sorry, but Nara is gone.” Anna said as she looked at him.

“I’m sorry, not sure why she went into the building when she knew better.” Anna said then sighed.

Saul took a deep breath and stood up. Time for the crucial question. "She has a family on Sakaria. Her father, Gary... he is some sort of leader there. Has anyone told him?"

“No, not that I know of. I imagine the counseling staff will handle it, or you could since you knew her. You can tell him, from me, he should be proud of his daughter. She died with the ideals of doing and serving others. She died with the promotion of Lieutenant Junior Grade.” Anna said, she mean it. She then looked at Saul once more. “You going to be alright, Lieutenant?” Anna asked.

"Yes. I'll... mourn later. Right now I'll get back to work and make sure no one else die unnecessarily... do you have her rank pip? If so, I... would like to take it with me."

“No, don’t have them on me. You’ll find them on my desk in my office. Just go in and get them. Make sure her father doesn’t want them sent to him though.” Anna said, as she picked up her canteen. “You’re a good man, Saul. Remember Nara now and always, but mourn for her later.” She said, then give him a nod.

The Intelligence officer returned the gesture, then turned away. It was rare for Saul Bental to feel a pang about lying or pretending. In his eyes, it was a legitimate tool, that should be used when (and only when) needed to achieve his goals. However, he began to question himself whether convincing the universe that Naranda was dead, along with all the consequences, was such a good idea. The Lieutenant Commander, although she hid it, was very sadenned and so were her fellow engineers, and her friends. Probably even that Kastanza shmock would feel bad for a second or two.

But it was better then waiting until a REAL assassin would make his or her move on Nara, and it was better for his own agenda.

"Let's get out of here." He told Xil as he entered the vessel, ignoring the inquiring look on the Trill Intelligence Officer's face. Saul closed the door behind him, wandering if the message he sent to Nara's father reached its destination by now.

"Damnation"

Teto Karoue Shop Owner, Tabbah, Sakaria (NPC of Saul Bental)

Gary Roswell Ressurected Hero of Sakaria

LOCATION: Sakaria

Teto Karoue sat in the back room of his shop, replaying the message he received from Saul Bental.

The stout Sakarian shop owner was forced over the last few months to become the young Bental's main contact on Sakaria. It was quite profitable, Karoue didn't deny. Saul gave him higher percentage than the other Bentals did in the past, and he was less patronizing. Still, if Karoue had the option, he would sever the business contact with Saul. It was bad for his other business.

And now this.

He pressed 'play' again on the hand-held device. Saul's image appeared once more.

"Karoue, I need you to pass a message to Gary Roswell. You know which Gary Roswell. The message is encrypted, so don't bother to try and read it. I know Roswell is not an easy man to reach, so the fee is high accordingly. Be swift about it, or other Bentals might find out you told me about certain meetings and business schemes. Good day."

The warning didn't prevent Karoue from trying to decrypt the attached message, but the encryption was genetic-based. He needed a tissue which was sampled from Gary Roswell within the last 24 hours in order to decrypt it.

Karoue sighed, trying to convince himself that he wasn't interested in what Saul Bental had to say to the resurrected hero of Sakaria.

He went back to front of the shop. The last costumers were gone, and his aide was hanging the 'Closed' sign on the door. Karoue grabbed a winter tunic from the rack, put it over his everyday cloths, and left the store.

Not far away from his shop was a public news bulletin board. Karoue headed toward it. The news was the best way to locate Gary Roswell.

* * * * *

Gary looked over the hill. When this war started, they were simply on the defensive against the Rebels. Never attacking, only blocking and fighting back. Now it seemed they had to be taught a lesson. They were going to attack at dawn, and Gary and several scouts watched the land to see what preparations they would make.

One of Gary scouts approached him. The scout, a middle aged Sakarian, seemed quite agitated. "We have a slight problem, sir," he said, bypassing the usual greetings and salute.

Gary kept his eyes glued to the binoculars focused on the encampment below. He was about to go off on the lad about protocol, but instead sighed. Allas and Nara had somewhat softened him. Sometimes protocol can be bypassed in certain situations. Yet, if the thing he wished to tell was so urgent as to bypass such protocol, then he should have just spit it out. Gary spoke in a non-too-nice, impatient voice, "And that is?"

"A man arrived to the rear camp, and asked about you. He says he has a message for you."

The scout shook his head in dismay. Their presence in the region was not supposed to be common knowledge, and in his opinion the commander didn't need to waste his time on weirdos and fans when there was a war to fight.

Gary ignored the man for a moment as he saw someone emerge from a tent. When he had walked around behind the tent, Gary grunted. He pushed the lenses into the shoulder of the man next to him. The fellow, used to Gary, simply took them and perused them. Gary spoke to him, "ANY movement, make a mental note and inform me when I return."

Gary crawled several feet away with the scout and only then did he stand and walked hastily and growled, "This better be ****ed important!"

The scout follows closely behind Gary grateful that the man barks much more than he bites. Of course, no one dare push the man enough to get bitten. No. Only an idiot would do that.

Even before coming close, Gary could guess who was the man who came looking for him. He was clearly not a soldier. Rather, he was an overweight, short fellow, a middle-class merchant according to his style of clothing. He was sitting on the ground by the road leading to the town, two of Gary's man towering over him. The man was playing 'Threestones' with some pebbles, and was unaware of Gary's presence.

Gary stood over then men playing the game, "What the **** are you doing out here!? Our planet is in a civil war and if this is about you trying to swindle us some supplies..."

"Swindle you supplies? Ha! You warring parties pay bad and you're bad for business." The merchant stood up slowly, straightening his silk-like cloths. "Believe me, Oh hero, I want to be here much less than you do. I've got something for you which I was asked to deliver in private."

Karoue made an emphasized glance toward the other men, making his intention clear.

Gary caught the gesture, but before he shooed the men away, he had one last question, "Will this information cost me anything?"

Karoue pondered that for a moment. Accoridng to Sakarian tradition, courier fee was divided between receiving and sending parties equally. Of course, he could name a blown figure, assuming Saul and this man aren't speaking. But he decided against taking that chance, and instead named his real courier fee.

Gary glared at the man. He sighed and while still studying the courier, he spoke, "Fertou, get the money, but don't return until I call for you. The rest of you go find something to do until I order the attack." When the men had scattered, Gary stepped closer, "I suppose asking you who paid the other half would be in vain?"

The Sakarian shop owner nodded simply. It wouldn't be profitable for him to double-cross Bental right now even if the 'Resurrected Hero' offered him a bribe. He hoped he won't be tortured for the name, but Roswell didn't have that reputation. Then, Karoue extended his hand and offered Gary the small hand-held computer.

Gary looked at the device and took it reluctantly. In a time of war, he'd learned not to trust anyone. "What's this?"

"It contains a message. It requires your genetic signature to display. Go ahead and see." was the reply. It was better than 'I have no idea', Karoue reckoned.

Gary looked at the device and sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a thumb in the square.

After the message played, Gary looked at the shopkeeper and for a split second wished he believed in killing the messenger.

"Moving Back In"

[Backpost- Before arrival at Trill]

Ensign Emily Fellbaum, JAG Officer

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

JAG Office - USS Galaxy

Emily found that everything was in order in her office still, just the way she had left it... plus or minus a few dozen PADDs that is. She was glad to get back to the Galaxy after the grueling month long court-martial trial that had called her away to Starbase 212. The trial was drawn out longer than necessary in Emily's opinion, the case against a Marine Officer off of the USS Miranda was pretty solid to begin with. But, as usual, the civilian lawyer defending the man drug out the inevitable.

She still couldn't get over the fact that a member of Starfleet, Marine or not, would actually execute people who had been captured in battle. It probably would've been one thing if it had been Jem'Hadar that were deprived of their narcotic Ketracel-White, but these were Federation Citizens that were involved. The court-martial should've taken a week, if even that. In the end though, Emily was proud to have her first court win under her belt.

Tossing her duffel to the side and collapsing in her chair, Emily let out a sigh of relief. It was indeed good being back on the ship. Now, hopefully, she could get back into the swing of things.

"Oh My..." with a snippet of "All Hands"

Ensign Emily Fellbaum, JAG Officer

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

JAG Office

She just sat in her office, numb from watching the newscast that had popped up suddenly on her screen. She wathced as the reporters on the scene showed the wreckage and the bodies... all of the bodies... "Oh. My. Lord." she breathed as she watched.

Emily felt the tears stream from her eyes at the scene of the disaster. An entire Federation Starship, now gone along with anyone who had been on the ground at the time of its planetary reentry and impact. The Prometheus Class USS Akula and pretty much the entire artisan city of Trill... gone. There was simply no way to keep the tears at bay. Emily crumbled and broke into open sobs at the horrible loss of life.

She wasn't sure how long she was there crying, but then the Captain's steady voice shook her out of her sorrow as the yellow alert sounded. "M'Kantu to all hands." Daren paused for a moment as his voice echoed throughout the ship. "The Galaxy is responding to a disaster on the Trill homeworld at best possible speed. All that is known at the moment is that a Federation starship, reported to be the USS Akula, has crashed on the surface of the planet in a densely populated area. Once we arrive, disaster operations will commence immediately. This is... this is one of the reasons that we exist, that Starfleet exists: to provide hope and assistance in the face of overwhelming disaster. I believe in you, but more importantly, the people of the Federation, and especially the people of Trill, believe in you - and with the power of that belief behind you, each and every one of you can work miracles. In a few short hours, you will be called on to deliver those miracles and you will, ev! en if you don't think you can... because the power of that belief behind you, and inside you, will sustain you and give you the strength to reach beyond yourself and be the heroes that the people of Trill need. Remember that. M'Kantu out."

~The Captain is right!~ she thought. Emily stood up and wiped the tears from her face as she killed the newsfeed. She wasn't exactly sure what she could do in a situation like this, but by God, she'd do something! She knew a little first aid and was decent at search operations, but that was about it. She was a lawyer, not a doctor or medic dammit. Emily marched right out of her office and went to voulenteer for the first medical unit or search-and-rescue unit that would be going down to the planet.

"Playing the Grown-Up"

8-ball Hunter

Ultimately, 8-ball did not like children.

Oh, some of them were okay. Having once been a child herself, 8-ball couldn't seem to find it in herself to hate them entirely. And since she was, on a regular, day-to-day basis, compared to an over-sized child in a Starfleet uniform, she often could find more in common with children than with most adults. Infact, when 8-ball got to play with kids or do childish activities like hide-and-go seek, or fingerpainting, she was often quite content. However, when she had to be responsible for children. 8-ball did not do as well. 8-ball only liked children when she did not have to play adult.

Unlike now.

8-ball walked down the silent backstreets of Trill, the little boy still in her arms and starting to doze off. The girl, Azra, walked near the side, still occasionally glancing at 8-ball to make sure she wasn't going to turn into a gargantuan sea snake or something and eat them alive. 8-ball tried to look as though she was in a particularly undevouring children like mood and walked on, every now and then glancing around to see if there were other survivors nearby. Somehow, 8-ball had managed to wander very far from the rest of the Starfleet group because nobody was around. . .unless she was going in endless circles. She would think Azra might mention if she was, but 8-ball wasn't sure. You couldn't trust children, not even ones who were likely to be too in grief to be devious. Children were sly. 8-ball knew this; she was like an overgrown one herself.

"What do you do on your ship?" Azra asked 8-ball suddenly. It was the first time any of the three had said anything for awhile.

"I'm a science officer."

"What kind of science?"

"Anthropology."

"What kind of science is THAT?"

"It's the study of all species, human and non-human alike. There are different branches of it; biological, cultural, linguistic."

"That sounds boring."

8-ball felt kind of offended at that but couldn't really argue the point, at least not with any real particular conviction. Parts of anthropology really could be interesting, but a lot of it was a lot of pretty dull research on species that nobody but Starfleet worshipping geeks and kiss ass ensigns cared about. "It's a job," she said.

The girl was quiet for a minute. Her brother had gone from drifting off to sound asleep in 8-ball's arms, which was cute except he was really starting to get heavy. She was going to have to go to the gym more or something. Until she became a mother and had to tot kids around up and down wherever she went, she was probably likely to have some extremely underdeveloped arm strength.

"When I grow up, I'M not going to have a boring job," Azra finally said. "I'm going to be a doctor and save lives and all sorts of things. It'll be very exciting."

8-ball, annoyed at this insinuation that her life was a boring and doomed failure, almost said something, and then thought better of it. The girl had just lost her mother and was obviously not looking to talk about it. . .something that 8-ball was secretly relieved for. Some people seemed to hold this strange idea that if you had gone through a traumatic experience, you were automatically enabled to help others through similar traumatic experiences. That was crap. 8-ball had lost her father when she was only a couple of years older than Azra but that didn't qualify her to start counseling all the little lost sheep in the world. Besides, it was a pointless idea. You could list every horrible encounter you had ever had, you could sing every lousy platitude you had ever heard, and none of it made any difference to the kid sitting next to you who had just lost her mom. They didn't care about your troubles or your cliched 'it'll all be okay someday' statements. They just wanted their fucking parents back. And ultimately, so did you.

8-ball could remember staying at an orphanage for two weeks after her father died. 8-ball had hated it there; the woman who ran it, a Mrs. Kissinger or Kershing or something weird like that, was one of those die-hard church fans who had a list of the most trite proverbs and mottos you ever heard in your life. Every day Mrs. K would be there to assure 8-ball that everything would be okay, that through the dark, the light would come, that someday she would look back on these days and understand why this had to be and her place in God's plan. . .blah blah blah blah blah. It had been more than twelve years since her father had died in the shuttle accident, and 8-ball understand her place in God's plan about as much as she understood temporal physics, which was to say not at all. None of it mattered. No beautiful light came out of shadowed times, and no understanding came out of grief and pain. It was just about survival, getting through gray days. You either could or you couldn't. It was as simple as that.

So 8-ball was glad Azra was trying to avoid thinking about her mother at all and concentrating on annoying the shit out of the half-Vulcan ensign instead. That was at least easier to deal with.

"And when I grow up," Azra was saying, "I'm not going to wear stupid outfits like that either. I'm going to wear all cool clothes and a lot more makeup and I'll look a lot prettier than you do."

"That's great, Azra," 8-ball said through clenched teeth.

(NRPG: This takes place a short time after "When it Rains...")

"...it pours."

Lt. Dr. Klaus Fienberg
CMO

Lt. Jeremy Savoie
Chief Flight Controller

Naranda Sol Roswell,
Deceased (haha)

Assorted Medical NPCs and APCs.

"With all due respect, Doctor, but are you fuckin' nuts?" Wide-eyed, Jeremy Savoie stood staring at Dr. Fienberg as if the man had suggested dressing up in crinoline and having the Borg over for tea.

"We have no other Choice Mr. Savoie."

"Look, I'm just here helping ferry supplies, I didn't volunteer to be a science experiment. What about him?"

"Not only is Doctor Slen the offspring of this symbiont's previous host, but due to his mixed DNA, he is actually incompatable with this particular symbiont specifically..."

This was something that relieved Jack quite a bit . . . but it did nothing for Jeremy.

"Well last time I heard, humans weren't exactly 'compatible' with those . . . things, either," he protested, gesturing to where the elder Slen lay, its symbiont still contained within.

"Is this entirely neccesary? We should find a Trill host! Not this....Human." Dr. Plax was there, unfortunately.

"Dr. Plax. I am in command of all medical personel in this city as of my arrival, This includes you. So I'm telling you to...what do.....SHUT THE HELL UP."

"I'm with Plax," Savoie chimed in. "Find a Trill host! Leave me out of it. Or it out of me, anyway."

Saia heard noises coming from the other room, and walked over toward the door. She stepped in quietly, wondering why these men were screaming at each other. She saw someone on a bed and wrinkled her nose and looked at the two screamers instead, curious as to what was worth the commotion.

"Mr. Savoie...We have roughly an hour before that symbiont, *DIES*. The Host's chances are *far less*. We just need a temporary host so that the symbiont heal to the point that it can be removed and stored before finding a host...."

Saia's grew wide. She'd met a few joined Trills, and was always intriqued when they told stories of other lifetimes. She was also taught that symbionts were to be highly respected and pretty much held in higher regard than their own race.

"This is an entire planet full of potential hosts! Don't tell me you can't find someone who . . . ."

The helmsman's protests were abruptly curtailed by the deafening roar of falling concrete and metal, followed by what felt like a small tremor. The medical tent under which they stood was almost blown over, and huge clouds of dust and debris billowed in all around them. Instinctively, Jeremy hit the ground. "It's another building collapse. Everyone, DOWN!"

Saia ducked behind a medical cart and clung tight to it closing her eyes.

Nara pulled her cloak around herself as she knelt by the bed of the person she had been feeding. She looked frantically for Saia wanting to call out to her with her voice.

A few moments later, the crashing and rumbling stopped, replaced by the sound of coughing, as the tent's occupants slowly got back to their feet while trying to breath and see through a thick haze of gray dust.

Jack put it aptly. "That wasn't good."

"More than not <cough> good -- we could all be dead right now. Look what it did to the tent." Savoie moved toward the part of the tent closest to where the collapse occurred. The entire side of the tent's structure was buckled and the ceiling slanted at an unnatural pitch. The only thing keeping it from falling in was the huge pile of rubble just outside. "A few feet in <cough> and we'd be buried," he observed. "Doc, we gotta get out of here. That's been happening all day and the next one may not be a near miss."

"Exactly why we need to do this NOW, Mr. Savoie. You're the only viable host within a kilometer. All stablized patients have been evacuated or on the way out. I would do it myself, but I need to command this medical mess!"

Jeremy opened his mouth to protest further. Was Feinberg out of his mind? Surgery here? Under these conditions? Yet something stopped him from speaking. He wasn't sure if it was the ever-present sight of the body on the surgical table or his own conscience, but he was beginning to realize that no credible doctor would suggest such a thing if the need weren't truly imperative. He looked at the dying Trill then back to Feinberg again. Then he swallowed, fighting down the sense of revulsion he had at the mere thought of some *thing* being implanted into him. "What will this involve?" he asked stiffly. "And how long would I have to have . . . it . . . in me?"

"Until we have a suitable host. That shouldn't take long....and if the current host survives, we'll reimplant the symbiont into him."

"And what if he doesn't? I'm not going to be stuck with it forever, am I?"

Nara watched the people leaving the tent and as a nurse passed, he said, "We need to go...NOW!"

Nara simply shook her head and continued looking. She saw a door she had noticed before. Would Saia had gone in there?

Nara peeked in silently and saw Saia kneeling behind a cart. She also saw a famailer person arguing with someone. She couldn't let Klaus know she was there. She had to make sure Saia evacuated with the rest of them though. She knelt and quietly moved toward Saia and touched her and nodded her head to say let's go. Saia shook her head, "They're about to put a symbiont in a HUMAN!"

Nara turned her head before she could tell that the two men had heard and tugged on Saia's shirt to go with her.

"A Human cannot carry a Trill symbiont for more than a few days or so. The symbiont will die. We'll have to find a new host if he dies and take it out."

The whole notion was still repugnant to him, but even Jeremy Savoie understood the value of life, and he recognized the urgency of the current situation. There simply was no other way. "Alright. Do what you gotta do, Doc, but the minute a *real* host shows up, you get that thing out of me, understand?"

"Ok. Implantations in humans have happened before. They are nonexistant however. Thankfully all the previous incidents have left no permanent effects on the host. Get him prepped for surgery."

"Nothing they can't handle..."

With NPC's Mekhi the Guardian,
Lt. Ted Spenser,
Ensign Alyna Ginn,
Ensign George Romero,
and Ensign Ving.

Location: The crash site outside of the Caves of Mak'ala

"WILL YOU NOT BE HAPPY UNTIL MY PEOPLE ARE ALL DEAD, LIEUTENANT?!?!?!! TILL YOUR NAME ECHOES THROUGHOUT TIME AS THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR GENOCIDE?!?!!!" the Guardian said furiously, clutching the front of his own blue tunic so tightly that they ripped.

When Federation personnel had arrived at the second crash site near the Caves of Mak'ala and began the painstakingly slow process of stabilizing the downed saucer section of the USS AKULA, the Guardian named Mekhi had been nearly pulling his gray hair out in tufts while watching Galaxy crewmen "crawl slower than fecal beetles."

Nearby, the unjoined symbiots lay defenseless in their murky pools and Mekhi had channeled all of his frustration squarely at Lt. Ted Spenser, the dark skinned veteran who was coordinating the rescue efforts here.

Spenser looked up from the schematics that were unrolled upon the table before him and sighed. He rubbed the black goatee on his chin, mumbled to himself about being too old for this, and tried once more to reason with the distraught man.

"Mr. Mekhi do you have any idea what is going on right this very moment?"

The Guardian snorted.

"Why yes! I am watching what is perhaps the most bumbling.."

Lt. Spenser cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Right his very moment there is a million tons of unstable metal buried only meters from your worms. Metal that could be so unstable that anything could happen. The only thing keeping this metal from dipping its toes in your pools are my people. Selfless men and women who are doing what they are trained to do."

He took a few steps over and placed his hand on the Trill's shoulder.

"I understand what you must be feeling. I really do. In fact that's the only thing that is keeping me from having you thrown out of my tent right now, and that's no shit. Trust my people. There isn't anything that they can't handle."

=/\= Meanwhile...aboard the saucer section...=/\=

"I can't handle this." Ensign Romero said swinging his flashlight beam wildly through the darkness of the turbolift shaft. "Ving, pull me up!"

At the top of the shaft, the lumbering Bolian in a starfleet uniform stopped lowering the rope he held.

Already at the bottom, the third member of the trio Alyna Ginn disconnected her harness.

"Ving, don't you dare pull him back up."

The Bolian shook his blue head and rolled his eyes.

"Here come the breasts." he said to himself."Every time the kid freaks out, the breasts make an appearance."

"Hey George, I know you don't like the dark. Just think about good thoughts and you'll be fine. In fact, you know what's waiting down here? My naked breasts! C'mon down now. My nipples are as hard as a Brikar's big toe."

Romero wiped the sweat off his brow and Ving once again began lowering him down the dark shaft.

"Perverts." Ving said as he eased the man's weight inch by inch. "probably want to degrade the Captain's chair next."

"Hurry down, George, and get us into the bridge and you can have me right there on the bridge. I've always wanted to be taken while I bend over the Captain's Chair!" Alyna shouted.

Ving cringed.

Ensign Romero had just begun to hyperventilate when he could feel the woman's arms pull him to the floor of the shaft. He gasped to catch his breath and in the flashlight beam could see her begin to unzip her pants.

"Hurry George. I'm dripping."

Ving could feel his stomach wretch at the thought of what he had just heard. "On Bolia, a dripping woman is a sign of medical need." he muttered.

Romero hurried and popped open the turbo shaft door and the pair tumbled onto the bridge and immediately were bathed in the glowing red lights of the digital countdown on the main screen.

The self destruct sequence had been activated.

"Oh shit....." George Romero gasped.

""Ginn to Galaxy..." the woman said picking her shirt up off the floor and activating the communicator.

“Work Now, Mourn Later”

Engineering NPCs

Emma’s face was a twisted scowl as she glared at Mei. They had been working together since they got planetside and Mei had been nothing but a bucket of nerves and it was getting to Emma. “Look, if you can’t take it, maybe you should just go back!”

Mei wiped her nose, “No. I was asked to come.”

“By someone who’s dead now! She’s not really in a place to care if you stay or go!” That just brought on fresh tears from Mei. Emma sighed disgusted and yelled, “Mei, pull it together! If anything, we can learn that we need to work fast so stuff like that doesn’t happen!”

Mei sniffed, “Do you even care?”

Emma looked at her point blank. “No. Even if I did, we have a job to do. One of the first things you learn in Star Fleet is mourn later. We have a job to do. We focus on that and THEN we can miss people.” Emma softened her voice a tad, “Listen, you can’t always have someone holding your hand. Nara gave you a chance. Get it together and make the chance count. You’ll have to learn to not count on anyone but yourself sometimes.” Emma turned and began to work again and pretty much leaving Mei alone and not worrying if she works or not, so long she stays out of the way.

Mei took a deep breath and got to work hoping that the trend of breaking down every fifteen minutes didn’t continue.

Before that could be tested a building collapsed sending debris flying at both her and Emma. Mei quickly fell to the ground seeing Emma do the same. As she hit the ground, she heard a scream. She crawled over to Emma, who had a piece of metal the length of two PADDs sticking out of her shoulder. Emma was wincing from pain. Mei tagged her and called for a beam up and then informed O’Shea that Emma was down.

After Emma was beamed away, Mei stood and looked around a moment. She felt really alone, yet it seemed to be a good thing as she worked and didn’t have any more emotion attacks.

"By The Way"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Intelligence Officer

The group of refugees resembled, in Saul's eyes, a small horde of ants carrying heavy weights on their backs and making their way through the dusty paths. There were many ants on Utrecht III, ants which harmed the local fragile Ecosystems (Aren't they all fragile?).

The Akula's crash was not unlike a giant feet landing on the anthill and spreading all the poor ants in all directions.

As the back of the last refugee vanished from sight, Saul asked Xil to stop the vessel. He opened the door, threw his bag over his shoulder, and headed for a nearby building.

"Be careful! I heard one of your officers already died because a building collapsed on her.", the hardy Trill Intelligence Officer called after him.

"I know!", Saul said. He knew too well. "I'll be careful!"

He drew a PADD, and ordered it to relay communications through his commbadge. Some interesting reports appeared on the screen. It seemed that the Akula's saucer section remained relatively intact, which would explain the decreased damage radius. Most of the damage was probably caused by the Stardrive section. Pieces from it could be found kilometers from ground zero.

Saul tried to calculate the angle and speed of landing which would allow it to stay intact. He then visualized the crash of the USS Enterprise-D's saucer section into a planet several years ago. The same saucer section which now proudly carried the insignia and name of the USS Galaxy.

Something was wrong here. There was a piece of information missing. Well to say that 'some' information was missing was like to say the 'some' Ferengi were greedy.

And speaking of which.

He made sure there was a wall obscuring him from Xil's sight, and that there were no reflective surfaces around him. Then, he drew another device from his backpack, a device he used in a public Comm booth on Starbase 212 just a few months ago.

A minute later, the image of Grok of Ferenginar appeared on the screen. Saul's unform was hidden beneath a leather jacket, and a mustache decorated his upper lip. He also placed a fashionable visor on his nose ridge.

"Hello, Mr. Van Der Hemel.", said the Ferengi, "I hope the… problems on Trill did not prevent you from completing your task?"

"On the contrary.", replied Saul. "It helped. The subject was… handled."

"How?", There Ferengi's beady eyes lit.

"'Work Accident.'.", Saul said cryptically.

"Oh, I see. Evidence of her… demise?"

Saul scanned the lock he took from Naranda's hair with his hand-held device. He previously used some delicate chemical processes on it to make it look as though it was buried under an art gallery for a while.

"My payment?", Saul demanded. The Ferengi spoke to someone outside Saul's view, and then gave Saul the Ferengi gesture which was parallel to 'two thumbs up'.

"A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Van Der Hemel. Goo-"

"Wait.", Saul said sharply. "I also gained precious inside information… I would like you to transfer all of my investments on Ferenginar to the accounts I give you. Including the Teg'Vrastoff shares.", he added when the Ferengi opened his mouth.

"Are you severing out business ties? That's suspicious.", Grok hissed.

"No… I happen to know that the values of everything on Ferenginar is going to decrease. And we don't want that now do we? I'll return them to you once the 'avalanche' stops.", Saul explained.

"What makes you so sure?"

Saul looked sideways, as though making sure no one was listening. "Heard what happened hear on Trill? Well… imagine what would happen if Ferenginar was next? The stock exchange if to be precise?"

The Ferengi looked stunned. He barked at his unseen aide to do some things in his native tongue (Which sounded very sleazy in Saul's ears, but perhaps it was just prejudice). Then, he looked again at Saul, murmured something and cut off the communication.

Saul removed his mustache and wondered whether Grok would tell someone in the Ferengi government about the 'imminent danger' or try to capitalize on it. Probably both.

The bait was taken, now, it was up to Gary Roswell to find out who is the one who knew about his daughter's death a little too prematurely.

Saul's bag chirped. He pulled another PADD from it. A message blinked on the screen. It was from the Central Starfleet Intelligence station on Trill, and was quite interesting.

Looks like the connections he made since he arrived started to pay off.

He considered contacting the Chief of Operations directly, but Iniara saw him speak to Grok about the contract when she and Saul exchanged memories, and with Nara's 'death' this could lead to unwanted results. Therefore, he decided to go down in the ladder of command. A short investigation conjured the identity of the two Operations officers coordinating the search teams down on the planet.

"Computer, prepare a message, priority high. Lieutenant Bental to Lieutenant Jamson and Ensign Elliot. Shalom. I am relaying a request to you from Starfleet Intelligence Command. They would like the Galaxy's away teams to search for remnants of the Akula's Neuro Jellpacks and memory modules, which might contain vital information. Please inform me and Lieutenant Dobryin immediately if such a module was found. The jellpacks' specifications are available on the Galaxy's tactical database, contact Lieutenant Taern for information and visual images. Also, please inform us immediately if you find corpses of organic remnants of the Akula's crew, especially in the vicinity of the Saucer section. Thank you for your assistance."

He took a deep breath. "Send message."

Saul then sent another message to Cora, informing her of the request he received from the central station. He still didn't hear anything new from her about the black box, but credited that for his superior's thoroughness.

With that behind him, Saul made his way back to the ground vessel. By the time he reached Xil, the mustache and the jacket were hidden in the depths of the bag, and Saul's face were covered by ash and dust for the millionth time that day.

"Anything new?", Xil asked.

"Yes. We now know what we're looking for."

"And what would that be?"

Saul smiled thinly. "Starship brain tissue. Neural Jellpacks."

"Mother of all problems"

Lieutenant Commander Brianna "Anna" O'Shea
Chief Engineer / Liaison to Starfleet Corp of Engineers
USS Galaxy

:: Crash site outside Caves of Mak'ala, Trill ::

Anna was walking down the burned out corridor of the Akula, trying to reach the main bridge, so far every access corridor she tried was blocked by down bulkheads. Trying to reach the turbo lift shaft she looked up it and saw the bridge doors open. Pulling some rope she then pulled a small grapple hook off her belt and connected it to the rope. Just as she was about to try get up there she heard Lt. Ted Spenser, inform her about the auto-destruct clicking.

Reaching up she tapped her commbadge, "O'Shea here, Lieutenant. I'm on it, heading for what's left of auxiliary engineering!" She said, then tapped her commbadge closed and began to move quickly down the corridor.

"O'Shea to Corgan, I need security at the Akula crash site now. I've got auto destruct sequence counting down. I need this area cleared of all personnel that isn't vital. This is a priority 'Commander. I'll be auxiliary engineering onboard the Akula, O'Shea out." Anna said, as she reached the turbo shaft and used her phaser to cut a hole in the bulkhead.

Looping her rope and grapple through it she tied if off and then began to lower herself down the shaft. Once she got down to the engineering doors she looked over and tried to open them one with hand. The problem was it was hard doing that while holding the rope. Pulling her phaser she set it to vaporize, once the doors was disintegrated she swung through and left her rope as she hurried down the corridor. Securing the phaser to her waste she reached the doors to the auxiliary engineering room. Once she got the doors opened she was greeted with the flashing red lights telling her of the count down.

"O'Shea to M'Kantu," she said tapping her commbadge. "I've reached the auxiliary control. I'm assessing the situation and beginning to override it. I've got three minutes, other wise Trill's gonna have a nice campfire tonight.. I'd advice you to speak to the President and have her start moving people away.. Security is in route here to began moving our people out. when I know more, I'll contact you. One pissed off Irish Girl out." She said, tapping the commbadge closed.

"Tis gonna be one big motha of a problem." She told herself as she began to work on trying to override the countdown.

2311