"No Word From God"

By Lieutenant Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy

And an unauthorized blurb from Captain M'Kantu (nothing serious, though, just an order)

Location: Leran Manev, Trill.

God had no answers for James.

Then again, James and God never did talk that often.

James was under the aging grey stones of the Chapel of Our Martyred Christ, an offworlder mission by Trill standards founded by Earth's Catholic Church some time after Trill's acceptance into the Federation. In the centre of Trill's capital, nestled into the downtown core between two glass towers, the church seemed diminutive in an out of the way fashion, to the preference of Trill citizens whom wanted alien religions in out of the way, unnoticeable places so that the majesty and all pervasiveness of the Symbiosis Committee and their tower wasn't overshadowed.

The church would have served not only as a comfortable place of worship for offworlders versed in Catholicism and Christianity, but also as a base for spreading the gospel to a world untouched. It also was a jumping point for Christian based humanitarian agencies, such as the Red Cross, which was reformed after the Third World War.

Not much in the way of success came to these off world missions. Alien cultures were content to worship their own religions in all their strange, exotic forms. Some cultures gave the Catholics curt politeness, thanked them for their generosity, and chucked their free bibles into the nearest waste reclaimator. Others were a bit less kind. Either way, the Catholic church still soldiered on, and when it came time to do humanitarian work, they were at the forefront, offering medicine, food, and salvation.

Aliens tended to thank them for all except the latter.

James wondered why they would put with such a hopeless, uphill struggle. It seemed to him that though they had ulterior motives, it was not as if they were being sneaky about it. In fact Christians were very open. We'll help you, just please hear us out when we talk about God, that sort of deal. To give so openly yet have their religion be given the cold shoulder in return seemed ungrateful.

Then again, intruding on another culture also grated on James. It was not as if Trill asked for missionaries.

But that was a small question in a quagmire of reality that sucked him in deeper. Sitting on the remains of a wooden pew while cradling a bowl of steaming hot soup, James was surrounded by the reality he was in, as he was all morning and afternoon while engaging in humanitarian work. A small question such as the futility of missionary work on alien planets seemed small compared to the insurmountable ruins that was Leran Manev.

Even in this church he was reminded of the disaster. Above the podium was an open space, allowing unimpeded sunlight to wash all over the church. There used to be a mural there, but was now an open hole with littered pieces of stained glass from when the Akula flew over the downtown core at supersonic speeds. The candles, hymn books and draperies were scattered like fall leaves, rustled by soft winds that brushed through the openings.

The wind chilled the people huddled inside; some wounded civilians in workday dress, others rescue workers from Trill and from the USS Galaxy taking advantage of the soup kitchen that sprouted up at the church almost instantly. Church volunteers ladled soup and bread to tired hands as the lineup moved with metronome efficiency. The lineup of the dirt smudged, weary faces were long and ghostly, and conversation was few as vacant eyes stared at nothing. Like James, they too were trying to make sense of what happened.

And what did happen, exactly? That's what James wanted to know. The mundane details were clear. A ship entered the atmosphere and took out a major city. What wasn't destroyed had all their windows shattered. That object was the Akula, a Prometheus Class starship.

Everything else didn't make a lot of sense. James had yet to piece it all together yet. He was too busy digging through ruins. First he used the Argo, but when the Argo broke down, he used his own hands to help dig through ruins. All the while he had to hear reports about riots, fights and demonstrations from angry multitudes who would cause trouble for any reason. He had to cradle dying Trills, the blood from their wounds thick with clot and dust. Children. Women. Men. No matter. He dug them out and passed them on, and on occasion used CPR. When he was digging, he either saw them dead or alive. Both were unpleasant, but he worked on, trying to shut everything else out of his mind but the task of digging deeper.

But now he that he paused for a quick bowl of soup (at the insistence of the workers around him, who swore he was working himself to an early grave), everything he saw and thought threatened to swamp him.

He did not want to cry, could not. He was the one that had to keep a brave face.

He was also the one that had to solve the mystery. Unrest and a falling starship. He saw a link there, but wondered what else was around.

~"Do you know?"~ James asked nobody in particular except God.

God had no answers for James.

"Figures." James sighed, consuming, but not tasting, his soup.

"What in particular?" Asked Sister Paretti from behind. James jumped up, his hand quivering close to his phaser while the other balanced his soup and his bun, but he came instantly at ease when he saw whom it was. The Sister Superior of the church, the one he could thank for the meal, was no threat to him.

But it sure did startle James and Sister Paretti both. "Sorry." James apologized to the nun. "I was in my own world for a second."

"I was starting to worry about you, Lieutenant Commander." Sister Paretti noted, her head bowing humbly. The nun's dress was conservative, but her olive complextion and brown eyes were much more interesting. She spoke with a heavy Mediterranean accent. She could even be beautiful... if she wasn't already married.

Her husband was awefully silent to an agnostic like James, he quipped in his head.

Sister Paretti continued, "I worry about everyone here. They all have the same stare."

"Just like war." James added, "I was in the tail end of the Dominion War. People had that stare when they saw all that carnage. Their minds were just trying to make sense of it all, just like I'm doing right now."

"Hmmm..." Paretti clucked, "Does it work?"

"Mostly good for replaying images and scaring you more. Not much else. Some try to escape it by doing something else... even something more harmful. But don't be too harsh on them. It's a lot for one to handle."

Paretti nodded in agreement. "God has given you a wonderful insight. I wish I had that same gift."

"Trust me." James grumbled coldly, "Don't. Earning insight like that costs way too much. For me, it was many dead by my hands during the war, and a few more afterwards, not to mention almost dying more than once and skirting madness almost just as many times."

"Oh..." Sister Paretti's voice trailed off. "I'm sorry."

James turned around to give an apologetic smile. He didn't mean to frighten the Sister. "That's ok. I didn't want to scare you, but a scary truth is unavoidable. You know, I would trade my 'insight' for a clean pair of hands any day."

"Give yourself over to the Lord, and you can come clean." Paretti quipped.

James smirked. "Naw. God and I fight way too often, with me doing all the arguing. I'm just surprised that I didn't burst into flames upon entering your church. I'll just leave it at that."

Sister Paretti strolled to an errant bible on the floor, its battered cover flecked with red glass shards. She brushed the glass off, and hugged the book to her bosom. "So, you believe in God?"

"Aye. I do." James confessed, "And not because my mother was a Catholic. I've seen some very..." He paused in the middle of an 'F', remembering to keep the profanities down in a church, "...strange things as a Starfleet officer. Scientists as early as the 20th century noted that the Galaxy was too neatly arranged to be random, almost as if God did have a hand in its creation. I've travelled that Galaxy, fought its wars, met its citizens and saw its cultures. Random just doesn't fit... there are too many coincidences. Too many tragedies at such wrong times, too many miracles to discount."

He finished off his soup, feeling it slide down his throat and tickle his tongue for the first time. Not bad soup for a soup kitchen, "I believe in God. But his face? I cannot say. I don't know who he is, and why he lets things like this happen."

"Some say that tragedy allows for miracles to happen." Sister Paretti intervened, "What use would there be of myself or my organization if the universe was perfect? If nothing like this happened, how would we do good deeds? How would we know what a good deed is?"

"Not sure." James shrugged, "I guess I don't see a bigger picture. I can't seem to see how this will overall push whatever plan God has for the universe forward... but what I can see is all the suffering." He shook his head, wistfully speaking, "Hard to see a big picture in all this. We could have done without it."

But Sister Paretti nodded in agreement. "I agree, but even in all this, I see the warmth and humanity of others. God's will comes naturally too many. They aide their fellow man without selfishness to blind them. That is what keeps my faith strong on this trying day."

"So in other words, it doesn't matter that a Starship landed on us, its what we do afterwards."

"Exactly."

"Is that what you came to tell me?"

Sister Paretti was taken aback, but replied, "No. I wanted to see how you were doing. You look exhausted, spiritually and physically."

"I am." James admitted, "I'm so damn gutsick of seeing all this. I can't understand why. It's more than whatever plans your god has, or any god has. It's the people and reasoning behind it, that's all. But thank you. I appreciate your concern, letting me talk on about all this. A good listener is worth a thousand councillors, you know."

Paretti blushed, her eyes averted to the shattered stain glass remnants of St. Peter. "Thank you."

"No problem Sister. Glad we could talk."

James expected Sister Paretti to spin on her black heels and walk away in a ruffle of black robes, but she stayed put. She seemed expectant of something else.

"What's the matter, Sister?" James asked with concern.

"We may not figure out God's plan for all this, but do you find any reason among mortal men for what happened?"

James looked up at her in astonishment. "I'm a security officer. More of a soldier than an investigator, but it is still my job. Yes. I see some inconsistencies here, and I don't think that ship crashed because God flicked his finger and knocked it off course, if that's what you mean. I can tell you... it is less than likely that it was an accident."

"Oh, and why would you say that?" She listened with curiosity oozing out of all her pores.

"You're not a Starfleet officer, so I'll give you the For Dummies version of what I've guessed. Mind you, it's theory, and I've only had a moment to think about it on top of what time I'm using to talk to you now, but an accident seems so... unlikely. Think about it, Sister. A starship crashing into a planet. How easy would that be?"

Sister Paretti thought for a second, but shrugged her shoulders. "I do not know much about the operation of a starship."

"But I do." Said James, "Sometimes ships can crash on a planet's surface. Hell, I was part of a crash during the end of the war, right smack dab into Cardassia itself hours before the surrender. If the ship was caught by accident in a gravity well, or if it could not pilot out of orbit, a ship would land, could land, just about anywhere. But even that can be controlled to a degree. Thrusters, ion drives, impulse engines, a starship could have enough response time to move away from a city and at a lower speed, but not here."

The ideas came to his head at a prodigal rate, too fast for James to keep up, though he did try, stuttering all the way, "The starship has too many failsafes, too damn many crew to slave at keeping the ship from hitting the city. The odds of hitting Leran Manev are too narrow, but it happened. The trajectory in which the ship fell, the speed, perfect for an impact without going straight down, without burning up or anything. It was too good. To clean. Too well controlled... but controlled towards the capitol."

"But who would do such a thing?" Paretti asked.

"Somebody who wanted the Federation to feel it." James answered, "And why not? I've been getting reports of unrest. The people are seriously pissed off." James said with extra venom. Sister Paretti gasped, but didn't stop Corgan on a roll, "A crash that is too well aimed, at the capitol of Trill, right at the most important landmark of their culture. The Symbiosis Committee. It just reeks of conspiracy theory... one not in my organization's favour. Aim a starship at Trill, hit the right spot, make them angry enough... maybe even enough to lose them as a member of the Federation. Maybe take more planets with them in protest."

"Sister..." James flicked off his glasses, wiping off the accumulation of dirt on the lenses, "This was no accident. It's too perfect in all these areas to be coincidence. It looks like a master plan. Not a divine one, but one by mortal people. My instincts tell me this. They also tell me that my uniform will make me look like a criminal in the eyes of thousands of angry Trill, and anyone else without spots will also look like targets, including you."

"But surely they see reason..."

"No they won't. Some will, but others will not. I've seen that savagery. Trust me, it will happen."

With all the seriousness James could muster, he pounded that message home. Paretti was naïve in some ways, though her heart could be kind beyond anything James could do. The dose of reality hit home, as her face etched in fright.

"Don't worry. You're pretty close to our camp. You'll be safe here. But if there is any trouble, call for help and a security detachment will come. You have my word on it."

Paretti bowed her head silently, easing some of the worry on her olive face. "Thank you, Commander. How may I return the favour."

At first James didn't know how, for the soup and bread, and the conversation was enough. But then he thought of something he urgently needed, but had no time to do himself.

"Check the refugee bulletins for an Andorian national. Five foot two, small and slim, a little bit older than me, though she doesn't look like it, short with a quiet voice.... Lovely as the angels themselves. Goes by the name of Mika Sh'Sonora. She was going to meet me here... but then all this happened. If you can find her, I would be eternally grateful."

"I will do as you ask." Sister Paretti said with all conviction.

"Thank you. That's all I ask. I'd do it myself... I'm worried sick about her. I'm..." His voice quivered like a shaking foundation, "...I'm afraid that I'd find her or someone like her in one of these buildings. But whatever counts for faith in my heart says she's out there."

Paretti asked, "Somebody special?"

James replied, "Yes she is."

"Then I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you. That's all I ask."

=/\=Captain M'Kantu to Commander Corgan.=/\= Called out the communicator pin.

The message sounded rather urgent, but then again, so did every communiqué from his Captain. "Corgan here."

=/\="Report back to the Galaxy. There is an emergency."=/\=

"Oh dammit." Corgan cursed under his tongue. An emergency during a state of emergency. Nothing came as close to frightening as that prospect. "I'm on my way! Corgan out."

James handed his bowl over to Sister Paretti. "Thank you for the soup."

Sister Paretti was resolutely quiet as James commanded the transporter to beam him back.

"The Final Countdown"

(Occurs immediately after 'Nothing They Can't Handle')

Principal Characters:
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Commander Cassius Henderson

Secondary Characters:
Lieutenant JG Rima Pennington
Ensign Alyna Ginn

 ****

Near-Trill Orbit
USS Galaxy Bridge

"Repeat that please, Ensign." Daren knew what the engineering team on the surface had reported, he'd heard it the first time, but the need to hear bad news repeated to make certain of it was too deeply ingrained in the human psyche for him to stop himself.

"The Akula's self-destruct system has been armed, sir." The young ensign's voice was strained. "I'm looking at the countdown now."

Daren closed his eyes and offered up a prayer that there was enough time to try something - anything - to prevent this from happening. "How long do we have?"

The Bridge was silent as faces looked from one to another in mute horror at this new threat.

There was a pause. "Three... no, two hours and fifty-nine minutes, sir."

Better than Daren had been afraid of, but still not good by any stretch of the imagination. "Understood, Ensign; you and your team stand by."

"Aye, sir."

Daren closed his eyes and took a breath. There were things he needed to do now, things to try that might stop this new threat... but too many for just himself - which meant that he no longer had the luxury of allowing his First Officer to be planetside, assisting with operations there. He opened his eyes and looked at the young officer at the Ops station. "Locate Commander Henderson for me," he said quietly.

"The Commander is..." the ensign's hands worked a moment on the LCARS panel, "...currently in the suburbs of Leran Manev."

Daren opened a channel from his chair's controls. "M'Kantu to Number One; I need you back aboard immediately. Prepare to beam back."

  ****

Trill
Sanaf District
Outside Leran Manev

Cass Henderson's communicator clicked once, telling him he had a communication from the ship. Thankfully, he was far enough away from anyone of consequence that he could answer it without giving away his identity. Reaching into his traveling jacket, he removed the comm and held it to his ear, replaying Captain M'Kantu's message.

He thumbed one of the buttons on the civilian communicator to reestablish the link. "Aye, sir.  Lieutenant Pennington and I will be ready for beam out in exactly one minute." Reaching over, he caught Rima's shoulder. "It's time for us to leave.  We're not going to find what we're looking for here."

She looked confused for a moment.  "Okay..."

"Follow me," he continued to count in his head as he lead her behind a nearby building, and down the alley to afford them some cover.  At the count of sixty, the transporter beam washed over them, and they disappeared unnoticed from the poorest district on Trill.

The beam released them in the transporter room of the USS Galaxy. Pennington looked over at him.  "What do I do now?" she asked.  It had been a day of surprises and unusual happenings for her.  Of course, she probably should have expected that, considering that a starship had crashed into a planet.

"Go back to tactical, tell them I've released you from detached duty, and then follow Lieutenant Taern's orders.  I'm going to the bridge," Cass said, already on his way out the door.

"Henderson to Bridge, I'm on my way up now."

****

Near-Trill Orbit
USS Galaxy Bridge

Cass arrived a few minutes later, still dressed in his bounty hunter garb. Whatever had been so important as to require both his and Captain M'Kantu's presences was probably too important for a uniform change. "Sir?" Cass asked as he cleared the turbolift, descending to the floor of the bridge to take his position.

Daren looked up from the PADD he held in his hand, three more in the chair behind him. "An Engineering team reached the Bridge of the Akula ten minutes ago," he began with preamble. "They found that her self-destruct systems had been enabled and were on a countdown to detonation in..." he glanced at the PADD again, "...two hours and forty-nine minutes."

"Damn," Cass uttered under his breath.  The saucer section of the Akula had crashed just near the Symbiosis Commission and the Mak'ala Caves. Self destruct there would mean the end of the Trill way of life, if not the species itself.  The world could suffer irreversible environmental damage from that large of an explosion within the atmosphere.  And all from what appeared to be a simple, if inexplicable accident.  "Do we have a total damage estimate yet?"

"Initial estimates yield a minimum damage estimate of total destruction for the city and an indeterminate surrounding area, depending on how many of the ship's systems are intact enough to accept the detonation command. If the warp core or the antimatter containment units can accept the signal to detonate...." Daren shook his head. "Well, we're not going to let that happen, are we, Number One?"

"Absolutely not, Captain," Cass replied, resolutely.  A variety of options shot through his mind, but most of them had holes in them.  "Do we have a stable uplink to their ship's computer?  If we do, we could attempt to enter the ship's Command Prefix and force it to shut down the self destruct."

"The Engineering team on-site is working on that now." Daren keyed the channel open from his chair. "Ensign, what's the status on the uplink?"

"Two minutes, sir," the woman's voice replied. There was a sparking sound and a muffled curse from a male voice that transmitted clearly over the Ensign's comlink, and then she amended, "Three minutes, sir."

"Don't rush it, Ensign," Daren said calmly. "You have plenty of time."

Ensign Ginn didn't sound like she believed him when she responded, "Aye, sir."

Daren turned back to Cassius. "It would be nice to believe that this will work, Number One, but we need to plan for it not - if I were the one responsible for this act, I'd make certain to install safeguards to prevent this exact thing from happening." He frowned. "I've ordered up a set of schematics for the Akula and had them sent to Tactical for planning. As a worst case scenario, I will order a surgical strike on the ship to destroy the computer core and relay junctures and prevent the detonation. The damage will be great - the symbiote pools will be destroyed at a certainty - but far less so than if the detonation cycle is allowed to complete." He looked at the main screen for a second. "We need options beyond that, though. Ideas?"

"We could send a team into the Akula to detach the relays so that the signal won't carry," Cass suggested, looking down at his terminal, "It seems that O'Shea and Corgan will be on station in a few minutes.  With some support, they could enter the Akula and carefully sever the connection.  Consequently, when the computer core sends the command, it goes nowhere."

"And if nothing else, some localized, smaller detonations could take care of the relays just as easily, in case we don't have time to sever them all, or in case whoever activated it has already thought of that. With the proper demolitions and computers knowledge, Lieutenants Marsh and Remur, It's possible that we could do so in a way that wouldn't destabilize the Akula."

"Good," Daren nodded. "If this doesn't work then start working on that immediately - and have Commander O'Shea stand down until a demolitions expert arrives to check for potential sabotage to the standard shut-down sequences regardless." He looked at the Sciences station. "Are we ready to try the prefix shutdown?"

The crewman there nodded. "Yes, sir."

Daren took a breath, let it out, and looked at the PADD in his hand. "All right then, let's give this a try, Number One." He handed the PADD to Cassius. "Your part is highlighted."

Cass nodded, and began to read over the required authorizations.

With a steady hand, Daren keyed in the first part of the command and the authorization for it, and then yielded the console to Cassius.

Cass took a few moments to familiarize himself with the display. Despite his years of experience with the tactical systems of most Federation starships, he had never been called upon to enter a command prefix. Then, carefully and methodically, he followed the instructions on the pad. "It's done."

"Anything, Ensign Ginn?" Daren asked after a moment.

"It's... it's still going, sir," the ensign responded.

"I suppose that this was too easy a solution," Daren conceded. "Stand by for Commander Henderson, Ensign; he's going to have some additional instructions for you."

"Aye, sir."

"Number One, get started on your options," Daren continued with a turn to look at Cassius. "I'll take care of notifying Ship's Personnel and the Trill government of the situation." He paused, and shook his head. "Then I've one card left to play."

"And what's that, sir?" Cassius asked, intriqued. Mentally, he tabulated who he would need to contact, and what would need to be done.

Daren's smile was an odd mixture of pride and sadness as he quietly answered, "I'm going to do what men have done for millennia when faced with disaster and in need of guidance: I'm going to call my wife."

Cass snorted, biting back a laugh. "Good luck, sir."

OOC: This post is co-written by Francis.

"Lament for Icarus, Act I, Scene 2"

Captain Juan Carlos Holmes
Commanding Officer, USS Icarus

Admiral Mandukar tr'Hwaehrai,
Director, Rihannsu Naval Intelligence
Commmanding Officer, 4th Galae

with...
Commander Ara S'Trialu,
Commanding Officer, IRV D'Cerevea

Captain T'Alik Preston,
Starfleet Intelligence Liaison, RNI Commander

Ares Khoma,
Executive Officer, USS Icarus

SubCommander N'Vel,
Rihannsu Liaison, USS Icarus

Staff Lieutenant Tom Knight,
Startegic Operations Officer, USS Icarus

****

Main Bridge,
Deck 1,
USS Icarus

Holmes sat back in Icarus' command chair, trying to fend off the headache that was threatening to over-take his senses. Three weeks had passed since he had asked N'Vel to make secret contact with someone in the Rihannsu high command, and the Icarus was now deep in Rihannsu space, unbeknownst to more than three other members of Starfleet, outside of her crew.

There were advantages to being considered a bit of a loose cannon, the half-breed captain decided. He had hand-picked his entire crew, and they were fiercly loyal, since most personnel in the fleet thought of the ship as a bad place to be. He had maintained a reputation of being intolerably bombastic without actually having to be so. Thanks to Admiral deMercereau, there was a very good chance that his crew was free of moles.

That still didn't mean he was entirely confident, of course, and, as such, as few members of the crew as possible knew where they were. Keeping them in the dark really rankled him; he was known for letting the entire crew know as many details about a given mission as possible, and here he was not even telling them that they were in Rihannsu space.

The diminutive ensign at communications looked over her shoulder at him. "Captain, we're getting a hail, but they're requesting a 'captain's eyes only' meeting." She was obviously puzzled, expecially considering that the ship's sensors weren't showing any ships nearby.

Holmes closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll take it in my ready room, Ensign." Standing, he motioned Ares to the command chair, recieving only a nod from his XO.

****

Commander's Sealed Conference Room,
Deck 10,
IRV D'Cerevea

Ara ir-Trayvor S'Trialu was small for one of the Rihanha. Standing only 5'4" and weighing in at a slight 112 pounds, she wasn't exactly the most physically intimidating officer that Juan Holmes had ever seen. However, something told him she was more than she seemed. Perhaps it was the edge to her stance, or the piercing appraisal of her eyes.

And she was more than she seemed. At 30, the young woman perched on the chair at the head of her conference room table had become the youngest woman to command a warbird. Six years later, she was one of the best, and being considered for promotion again.

The face of the half-Bajoran captain came on the monitor, leaning forward on his desk. "It's nice to see that someone got our message."

"Starfleet has been a great ally to the Rihannsu in the past. For such an ally, returning calls is considered polite," S'Trialu shrugged the comment off. Trust was important, though she knew she'd find little here. "I trust you still desire the meeting?"

Nodding, the Starfleet officer glanced at the chronometer on the wall. "SubCommander N'Vel, myself, and my first officer can beam over in thirty minutes. Is that suitable?"

"Certainly. You will be met by the Admiral and myself. We will signal you again when it's time. We'll be waiting, Captain."

"Agreed. Holmes out."

****

Transporter Room,
Deck 8,
IRV D'Cerevea

Ares Khoma walked into the transporter room to find the captain and the Icarus' Rihannsu liaison already waiting. The only other person in the room was Staff Lieutenant Knight, standing behind the operator's console. Ares raised an amused eyebrow, and Holmes merely smirked in response; the ship's strategic operation's officer was a strange choice for transporter operator, but, then again, a Rihannsu cruiser was an odd choice of destination.

Holmes walked up to the pads, N'Vel and Khoma flanking him. Nodding to the staff officer, he watched as Knight and the Icarus' transporter room disappeared...

...to be replaced by the harsh green of a Rihannsu conferance room.

Admiral Mandukar tr'Hwaehrai, the aged director of Rihannsu Naval Intelligence, lead the three Rihanha that faced the officers from the Icarus in bowing to their opposite numbers. The salt and pepper haired Rihanha wore a nice uniform, well tailored but not the dress uniform that he despised. His honor blade, a long, slightly curved sword, hung at his hip.

To his right, symbolically, was Commander S'Trialu, her long brown hair pulled up into a neat, orderly bun at the base of her neck. Her own honor blade, too long for her short legs, was slung across the back of her legs at an angle.

The third officer, dressed in the black shipsuit of a Starfleet Intelligence officer, wore a similar blade at her hip. She was Rihanha by birth, human by upbringing, and the SFI's foremost expert on Rihannsu culture. Serving now as the liaison between SFI and RNI, Captain T'Alik Preston was the go between that N'Vel had contacted. She had also helped to negotiate the placement of the cloaking devices on Federation vessels, including the Galaxy and Relentless.

Holmes raised an eyebrow at the presence of the woman in Starfleet uniform, but didn't comment. He knew who Preston was, and had seen photos, but was unaware that she would be present. Then again, he hadn't even known with whom he would be meeting until this very morning - the whole thing was a house of cards, and much of his success was entirely at the mercy of others.

Turning, he indicated the officers with him. "Admiral, may I present Commander Ares Khoma, and SubCommander N'Vel." Glancing from N'Vel to Preston and back, he commented, "It seems that cross-empire service is becoming rather common of late."

"I've served on this side of the border for four years now," Captain Preston nodded to the commanding officer of the Icarus. "Before that, I was the second officer and intelligence liaison on the Independence." It was more or less true. She'd been an anti-Tal Shiar agent for SFI, which had lead her to her current posting, and to pushing Admiral tr'Hwaehrai to act on his desire to create RNI.

The half-breed wondered briefly if the woman across from him really was a Romulan. He knew that perhaps recent events had made him a tad paranoid, but such things were not entirely unknown to SFI; after all, for the first eighteen months that he had known Frank Therrien, he had thought the man a Bajoran. Dismissing his memories, he turned again to the Admiral. "Admiral, you will forgive me, but I have to ask, aside from the three in this room, how many more members of this crew know of Icarus' presence?"

tr'Hwaehrai nodded knowingly. Standard operating procedure was standard operating procedure, no matter where you went. "My Chief of Staff, the ship's senior staff, and a few select others. Like yourself, I was allowed to handpick the crew of not only my command ship, but this one as well."

Glancing at his first officer, Holmes squared his shoulders, then addressed the room at large. "That's good, Admiral; when I tell you what it is I should not be telling you, you will understand why I have an entirely understandable desire for secrecy. There are those in the Federation who would sooner shoot me than let me tell you what I am about to."

Again he glanced at Preston, wondering if he could really trust her not to tell her superiors at SFI about this little meeting. Once again hoping, he held out his hand, and Ares slapped a PADD into it. Taking a seat at the table, he passed it across to the Admiral. On the small screen was the sensor data taken from the Rihannsu vessel that Icarus had aided after the attack. No doubt the Admiral had already seen the blurry images of the fluid purple vessels, but Holmes wanted to make it absolutely clear from the beginning what his purpose here was.

Admiral tr'Hwaehrai glanced over the familiar information, briefly. Commander S'Trialu tapped the taller man on the shoulder, and the two made some sort of unspoken exchange before he handed the PADD off to her. "Yes, I'm familiar with this data. Thank you, Captain Holmes, for the swift assistance in the attack on the Tomoro."

Holmes nodded, then pulled out a data chip, which he also passed across. "That incident is why I requested that SubCommander N'Vel set up this meeting, Admiral. On that chip is a wealth of information that the Federation has not shared with you, nor with their own citizens, nor with the vast majority of Starfleet. I very much doubt that Captain Preston even knows any of this, or else she would likely have told you."

The fiery warbird commander cut in sharply, handing the PADD back to the Intelligence Director, "He's right, Mandukar. There's more information here than we've seen from Starfleet Command in months. T'Alik, have you been withholding information from us?"

Nobody envied the SFI Liaison the glare that was focused upon her by the shorter woman. For her part, Captain Preston shrugged, "I haven't been made aware of anything unclassified in the past few months that has not reached your hands. That does not mean that I haven't heard things."

Ara S'Trialu frowned, but accepted the woman's response as the norm for members of the intelligence community. While Ara had never been fond of their methods, they had their uses, and this particular one had proven to be a far better ally than the Tal Shiar. Through Preston, she and tr'Hwaehrai had gained much.

Holmes waved his hand, "Don't confuse my intentions, Admiral. This has nothing to do with a desire to harm anyone. This is all about internal politics, and who can gain the most ground. There are some very powerful members of the Federation Council who are afraid of what will happen if their constituents realize how poorly defended they are. I suggest you take a look at what I've given you."

"This is going to take a moment, Captain," tr'Hwaehrai replied, sitting down at the table and signalling for the others to do the same. Leaning over the PADD, the aging patrician scanned its contents with a well practiced eye. The possibilites were distrubing in their proportion. Attacked outposts and ships belonging to every major power in the region. An alliance between the Breen and three other largely unknown alien races. A titanic clash of starships in the Havras System. "Captain, if what you say is true, then we have much work to do."

The Starfleet captain leaned across the table. "Admiral, the ships that attacked your vessel; they're Hydrans. It seems that their self-enforced isolation is coming to a rather spectacular end, something that I would think that the Romulans would appreciate," he added, referring to the sudden reappearance on the Galactic Stage that the Rihannsu had made nearly sixteen years earlier. "With the T'Kith'kin, the Breen, and now these Yanek that have been reported by the Arizona, the Hydrans have gone from a power that one-hundred years ago was dependant on Federation aide just to survive, to a potentially deadly enemy. We are all at risk, perhaps a greater risk than we were at from the Dominion, and no one is doing a damn thing about it."

"And what do you propose that I do to help, Captain. I understand the urgency of this situation, but at the same time, my resources are limited, and I have to maintain a hold on RNI's interests at home," the director replied. "That said, I'm prepared to aid in whatever manner I realistically can. Provided that I can independently corroborate your story, of course."

Holmes leaned back again, adjusting his collar. "There is an ever-increasing group of Starfleet officers, mostly starship captains, that are doing what we can to spread the word in secret and try to build up a defense before war comes flooding in our back door. However, at every turn we're in danger of exposure. I'm known as a bit of a mavrick in the fleet, and I think you can agree that I've probably proven that by coming to you now."

"That much is certainly true," Ara muttered. There was something about the situation that didn't sit well with her. Whether it was the fact that a Federation captain with a somewhat tarnished reputation had crossed the border to deliver vital intelligence, or the possibility that the intelligence he brought might be true, she wasn't sure.

"Admiral, you know as well as I do that the Council is right about one thing; if this gets out now, so long after Havras, it will not only destabilise the Federation, but the Klingon Empire, the Cardassian Republic, and so many other small powers in between. But you have got to make your people ready for this, because the Hydrans are going to make a move, and I don't know if you can get the Senate to move on it. You may just find yourself doing exactly what we are; working in secret. But if it comes to that, I think I can speak for every member of Starfleet involved in all this; you have our support, and you have our assistance if we can give it."

"I do have my allies in the government. I'll have your report suitably altered to cover you, then I'll bring it to the attention of the Praetor. With any luck, we can maneuver the Galae into position to receive a full scale invasion without alerting the Federation Council to our knowledge." The Admiral placed the PADD on the table, and waited for Holmes to make the next move.

Looking around to all involved, Holmes again leaned forward and lowered his voice, as though the room contained more ears than just the six pairs present. "Admiral, I regret having to do this, but I must ask a couple of favors of you, though you really owe me nothing. The first may seem difficult, but I assure you, it is infinitely the more simple of the two. Captain Preston's help will be invaluble in this, and glad I am to have her presence."

"Very well. Name your requests, and I'll determine if we can reasonably accomodate you," the admiral replied, glancing over at Preston and S'Trialu to gauge their reactions. Neither woman's face gave him insight at the moment, and he could only assume that so far, they believed the Starfleet captain.

"The first favor I would ask of you is a cloaking device for the Icarus... and no one can know about it. Neither here nor in the Federation can anyone know that my vessel is capable of cloaking. If the Federation refuses to allow SFI to investigate the powers that we face, then I will take it upon myself to do it."

He again looked at Preston, and the taller, aristocratic Rihanha nodded.

"We may be able to work something out. A similar program exists for the USS Galaxy and the USS Relentless. However, we were given certain things in return," Mandukar said with a wry smile. "In this case, I believe that we can forgo the usual bartering. If you agree to have one of my specialists monitor and maintain the device, then I'll agree to provide it. Well, provided I get an unedited copy of your reports."

Raising an eyebrow, Holmes continued. "Here's the difficult part... I need personnel."

"Oh? Now that is another matter." It was the director's turn to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"My ship isn't exactly short on staff - hell, we have over one-hundred personnel more than any of our sister ships - but my ship is going to be doing things that no one else in the Federation will, and completely without their knowledge - well, that's the hope, anyway. I must admit, Fleet Admiral deMercereau has been seriously helpful in this - Icarus keeps being listed as on 'detatched exploratory duty', which isn't completely dishonest, really."

"To not be completely dishonest, and still get what you need..." tr'Hwaehrai nodded, "... is the better part of Intelligence. But you'll have to be more specific if you want me to allocate valuable personnel to this."

Khoma slipped a second PADD across the table as Holmes replied, "We could use a detatchment of twenty - scientists, engineers, a couple of RNI personnel - it's all on the PADD in front of you. Getting them is hard enough, particularly when we have to keep them listed as being on 'detached duty'," he said, using the same euphamism as before, "But that's going to be far simpler than finding twenty fleet personnel who are not only capable of working with Starfleet personnel, but with Klingons and Cardassians, as well."

"Ah yes... That does make sense," the director admitted, "I can't make a firm commitment right this instant, but I do see the need. If you'll allow a week for the proper maneuvers to be made, I'm certain that I can arrange for the personnel to be assigned to... 'detached duty'."

"I plan to ask members of their fleets for the same thing. I can't tell you how hard it is for a Bajoran to be working on the whole 'spirit of cooperation' thing, but I'd rather not be taken over by the Breen or anyone else just because of some damn politicians."

"We Rihannsu have a saying, Captain. 'Never turn your back on a Breen.' It's comforting to see that the Federation also sees the wisdom in that statement," the old man grinned, "Tell me, Captain Holmes. How many of your fellow officers are behind you on this? I'd rather not be tied to something that will be crushed by your Section 31. Or indeed by SFI."

The grey haired Rihanha cast a sidelone glance at Captain Preston, who barely controlled a laugh.

Holmes smiled with a certain knowledge that he was comfortable knowing was entirely his own amongst those in the room, but let the expression fade as quickly as it had come. "I am more than aware of the operating procedures of Section 31, and my own intelligence team is enitirely loyal; one of the advantages of having a fiercly devoted crew; there isn't an individual on that vessel who I don't know personally, and even most of them don't know the details of our missions," he said, glancing at his the people in the room before continuing, "which, I must say, is not a situation I particularly like; I'd much rather be completely honest with them, but the situation prevents that."

"Dangerous times do not only breed dangerous men, Captain," tr'Hwaehrai opined. He had himself used similar screening processes when he'd been selecting the crew of the first two Kerchan-Class Warbirds, the Valaere and the D'Cerevea. For his purposes, he discretion was key. "But also dangerous methods."

Pausing in thought, Holmes thought of all the members of the "Captain's Council", as it had come to be called, not entirely jokingly, by its participants, and then thinking of the various captains that had become 'co-conspiritors', per se, over the intervening months. "The commanding officers of most of the major starships in the Twelfth Fleet are involved, as are the commanding officers of thirteen differant starbases and several starships outside the Twelfth, plus Fleet Admiral deMercereau and a number of more minor admirals. Only a few of us know the names of every person involved, and there is no written record at all. Some of us being Bajoran, we have a healthy paranoia about sharing information; the fewer members know each others identity, the less likely we are to have the whole thing collapse on us because of the whims of some vindictive political animal."

"That's most impressive, Captain," Mandukar said, making a point on his mental to-do list to discover the captain's compatriots. They could be useful in the future, just as Holmes was being useful in the present. "You have my trust, for the moment. It may take us several days to find the appropriate personnel not connected officially to RNI, and have them assigned circuitously to your ship. You'll pardon the secrecy, but I'm sure you can understand operational security."

Smiling at the officers seated opposite him, Holmes stood. "Thank you, Admiral. I'll have Icarus form up with the D'Cerevea, and we'll arrange the transfers. If there is ever anything you need from us, don't hesitate to contact me; we are truly in your debt."

"The Tale of Little 8-ball Bo Peep and her Wayward Sheep"

8-ball Hunter

(takes place about twenty minutes after Playing the Grown-Up, if that helps)

"So, you've been on your ship for, like, a couple of years now, and you're still an ensign? Wow, that's lame. I'd at least be a lieutenant or something by now. Maybe I could be a doctor and a captain at the same time. That'd be way cooler than what you're doing."

8-ball closed her eyes. She was starting to wonder at her own, strange initiative when she had been in the house on Trill. Why was SHE being the one to tote around little children? She certainly wasn't qualified. Why couldn't she just have left them there like any good sane person would have done, and go find help?

Because she wasn't logical, that's why. For the first time in years, 8-ball was beginning to wonder if blocking logic of all forms was such a great idea. Wandering around lost on an alien planet with a couple of orphaned kids to show for it. . .not exactly a success in her book. Besides she was tired, hungry, and the little boy sleeping in her arms had begun to drool slightly onto her uniform. She was getting pretty well done with being a parent.

Once again, 8-ball tried to tell herself to be calm, to be patient with the little Trill child who was obviously a secret demonspawn in disguise, only created in existence to make 8-ball's life a more specialized, torturous Hell. Personally, 8-ball thought this marked the most prolonged period of patience in her life, and she was looking forward to dumping off the little brats with some other, more responsible people, and then maybe getting the medal for fucking courageous chick of the year. Children were worse than a nightmare; they were a decent into hell.

8-ball looked somewhat sourly at the little boy in her arms, who was just starting to wake up. His eyes blinked a couple of times, wide and unfocus. 8-ball sighed. They were both demons. . .but sort of cute ones, at that.

Azra opened her mouth again, and 8-ball thought, ~On the other hand~

"I knew a girl who went into Starfleet," Azra said. "She used to watch us when Mo. . ." Azra trailed off. "When she had to. Anyway, I heard she made lieutenant in like six months. That's WAY longer than you've been on the Galaxy, right?"

"She must have been QUITE extraordinary," 8-ball said through gritted teeth. Who made lieutenant in six months, anyway? Ensign Picard Fucking Perfect?

"Well, I bet anyone could do it," Azra said in an offhand way that made 8-ball want to scream. She glared at the little girl.

"Look, you," 8-ball began and was immediately cut off by Kaden pointing at a large house nearby.

"Let's go, let's go!" he said.

"No, Kaden," 8-ball said, "I don't think there's anyone else around. The best thing to do is to get you to other people." ~So I don't have to deal with you anymore~ 8-ball thought to herself.

"No!" Kaden started to wiggle out of 8-ball's grasp and she set him on the ground before he could fall. "Reshka!"

"Reshka's his GIRLFRIEND!" Azra said loudly.

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is---"

"CHILDREN!" 8-ball said, annoyed. Could she have possibly been this irritating as a child? Probably. But dammit, there were reasons she wasn't a mother. This was only one of the six thousand of them.

8-ball looked at Kaden, who was still pointing enthusiastically at the house, a grin so wide and obviously innocent that 8-ball began to feel a little bad about trashmouthing the kids in her head. "Aren't you a little young for a girlfriend? I would think it was customary to wait until you were at least five."

"That's probably because you don't have a boyfriend," Azra said, and 8-ball came close to throttling her.

"That's not true," 8-ball said, as calmly as she possibly could. . .which wasn't very. "I do have a boyfriend. . .of sorts. He's just, sort of, busy."

"What does THAT mean?" Azra asked.

8-ball came very close to saying 'It means that I don't have a boyfriend, you little monster, but every now and then I have wild, hot, horny SEX with some guys every now and then, and the last one was cool but never called back because in real life, sweetie, you don't get love; just one night stands'. She shut her mouth just in time. The lesson of one night stands should not be taught to nine year olds. That was what junior high was all about. "It doesn't matter," 8-ball said shortly and looked again to Kaden, who was obviously content on not going any further until they searched the house. "Honey, they're probably gone already."

Kaden looked at 8-ball and his eyes were brimming with tears. ~Oh, shit~ 8-ball thought to herself. "Pleeeeease. Pleeeeeease, 8-ball."

8-ball closed her eyes. "Oh, all right. We'll check to see if anyone's still there. But then we're finding everybody else and finding your Uncle so I can go hide back on Galaxy where I belong."

They started walking in the direction of the house. Kaden, whose tears were long forgotten, was now grinning eagerly as they walked up the steps. "Reshka's brother Rix is pretty fun, but Mazia is really mean," he warned 8-ball. "If she's here, can we leave her behind?"

8-ball ignored this. It sounded like something she would say, but she couldn't very well tell Kaden that. "How many siblings does this girlfriend have, anyway?" she demanded of Azra, who was looking pretty smug.

"8," Azra said. "Ages 2-12. Reshka, Rix, and Reya are all triplets, and Mazia's got a twin sister too."

"Oh good Christ," 8-ball whispered and prayed for an empty house.

*****

It wasn't empty.

Sitting in the kitchen of the large house were nine people: one adult, eight children. The adult was a Trill woman who very obviously had a broken leg; the other children were mostly okay besides scrapes and bruises. The only exception was an eleven or twelve year old girl who was unconscious. 8-ball crossed over to her immediately and began to scan her with her tricorder.

"Is she okay?" the Trill woman asked. "She's okay, right?"

"I think she's just unconscious," 8-ball told the woman. "She's alive and her vitals are stable, but we need to get her to a doctor to make sure. Come on, I'll help you up."

The woman shook her head. "I can't," she said. "I tried but my leg. . .I'd never make it across town, not with all the other children, and certainly not if you were carrying Mizra around too. You'll have to send back help."

"But the kids. . ." 8-ball said, looking helplessly at the woman, and then at the children. Mazia had already started fighting with Azra, and Kaden and Rix were busy sticking their tongues out at both of them while the others were running around the kitchen.

"Take them," the woman said, "and come back. Please. It's the only option."

8-ball was beginning to strenously dislike that option and go with Option B where she ran out of the house and left all the little children behind. But she couldn't do that. As much as the idea was very, very appealing, 8-ball just couldn't leave them all. That whole humanity-I'm-not-an-evil-warload quality was really starting to get in the way of things.

Azra, who seemed to notice 8-ball's sudden interest in flight, stood up. Her eyes were very wide and no longer amused, as if 8-ball was one of the only things she could count on right now. . .if to mock and torture, if nothing else. "You won't leave us, will you?" she asked earnestly. The Trill woman shook her head comfortingly at the young girl

"No, of course she won't," the Trill woman said reassuringly, and looked at 8-ball to confirm this fact.

8-ball sighed. She hadn't actually been planning on leaving, of course, but now her options were even more severely limited. "No, of course I won't," she said and gave the woman a pointed look that did not necessarily indicate happiness. "I'll send help as soon as I can," she told her, "and I'm sure everything will be okay. But next time this happens, do me a favor?"

"What?"

8-ball looked at the nine children, still bickering and fighting with one another. "Try not to have so MANY of them."

****

Forty-five minutes later, after travelling in circles with children arguing over which was the right way to go, children crying over who hurt who, children screaming about who stepped on who's foot, and children stealing innocent, beautiful glances at 8-ball every few minutes to remind her just how adorable and loveable they were, 8-ball saw something that made her believe that God might just exist after all.

~Heaven on Earth~ 8-ball thought to herself. ~Am I hallucinating? Am I dreaming? Am I having a Trill Tormenting Mirage? No! NO! It's people! It's adults! It's STARFLEET!"

8-ball had never been so happy in her life to be a part of the Galaxy crew.

"Favors Asked"

Doctor Tizarin Lias
Medical Officer

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Intelligence Officer

=======================================

The encampment was a place Saul prefered to avoid. A mix of foul smells, ghastly moaning voices, and temporary structures and tents. It was a jungle made of the lost and hurt, a whirlwhind of chaos which a handful of stubborn, persistent and down-right heroic Starfleet officers tried to stabilize and calm.

Saul led himself and his companion, Lieutenant Xil, toward the eye of the storm. He knew he would find HER there.

Tizarin had to take a break. If she didn't she'd drop on her feet. The wounded were coming like the flow of water from a broken pipe. And there seemed to be no end in sight. As Assistant Chief Medical Officer aboard the Galaxy Tizarin had the authority to delegate some cases to be transported, either by shuttle, or by transporter, to the Galaxy's sickbay. But that still left a lot of work on the surface, in triage and disaster conditions, for Tizarin, Klaus, and the other medical personnel on the surface.

The Trill pulled off the red sterile gloves that covered her hands. She threw them in the portable reclaimator someone from operations had hastily installed, and used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. As she looked up, and her hand passed over her brow, she saw Saul Bental, standing in the entrance of the tent with a smile on his youthful face.

"You still owe me a visit to the symbiont caves, doctor."

"Bental." Tizarin replied. "Damn. You're a sight for sore eyes." she chuckled to herself. "You'll get that tour. As soon I run out of patients. Speaking of which... are you hurt ?" she noticed Xil standing next to Bental and added; "Either of you ?"

"No, we're just exahusted and thirsty, very thirsty. Meet Lieutenant Xil, from SFI central station here on Leran Manev. Lieutenant, this is doctor Lias from the Galaxy."

Tizarin shook the man's hand. "A pleasure, Lieutenant." she smiled, her round face looking younger than her years as it always did when she smiled.

The Lieutenant shook her hand back, then stepped aside and headed for the water supply, intentionally leaving the two alone.

"You look like something only ten hours of sleep could fix, Tizarin." Saul told the doctor as his eyes followed the back of his colleague. He dropped his bag on the floor, sitting on the only field biobed.

"Twelve hours might do it, Saul." Tizarin replied. "Oh... have you ever seen anytihng so terrible ? It's like a war zone here."

Saul shook his head. As much as he hated to admit it, he finally found a place which looked considerably more horrible than his own homeworld. Well, some times he thought the city of Naples could actually benifit from having a starship crash in its midst.

"I'm sure the entire planet and the entire Federation will step forward to heal this wound as soon as possible.", He said, gesturing at the surrounding landscape of torn buildings and aimless refugees.

"Do you have any idea what happened ?" Tizarin asked. "I mean, I know-officialy a ship crashed. But... why ? What happened ?"

"We don't know..." The Intelligence officer confessed, "We're trying to find out who is behind this. Right now we pretty much determined that this was no accident, although no one took responsibility for the act. Someone did this to your people on purpose, Tizarin - and we're going to get that person."

"It's hard for me to look around, not knowing." Tizarin said. "I mean... this place here... what's left of it, is my home town. Why the hell would anyone want to do something like this on purpose, to the Trill. We're at war with no one?"

Saul remained quiet for a moment.

"I didn't know you were from the capital, Tizarin.", He said softly.

"Yes.... well, I grew up here." Tizarin replied. "I was actually born in a smaller town some 50 kilometers from the capital. But... we moved her when I was3, or 4- very young, because of my father's work. So... this is home. Saul, I'm wondering if you could use your connections to do me a favor ?"

Saul Bental took pride in the ability to get anything, anywhere. In his previous post, he gained the reputation of the person you came to if you wanted to acquire anything that wasn't available - as long as it was legal, of course.

"Sure thing.", He said, determined to maintain that reputation. Besides, who wouldn't want to help a friend?

"I want to find my family." the doctor answered. "I don't even know if my parents are alive, or dead. There's no list of casualties available through the Galaxy's computers- and that's no surprise. I doubt anyone's taken the time to take down names. But, maybe you, or your Lieutenant friend could help me. I'd owe you- big time."

"No debts.", Saul made a sharp gesture with his hand. "I'll do my best to find them, it's the least I can do for you. Plus it'll clear your mind and allow you to pay your full attention to the patients. Just give me all the details that you can, I'll see what I can do."

Tizarin made no attempt to hide her joy. She even went as far as to kiss Bental on the cheek. "Thank you... you don't no how much this means to me. Well... maybe you do. Everyone has someone they care for. But, please... if there is anything I can do for you ?"

"Actually there is... but I won't put it as a condition to my assistance, of course. And I would like to hear the details about your family first."

"all right... my family name is Diol. My father is Jarod, my mother Anais. Both unjoined, as is my brother- Jigo." Tizarin began filling Saul's head with her family history, as fast as she could speak.

After two sentences Saul tapped twice on his communicator, ordering it to go to recording mode. Tizarin was swamping him with facts and he knew there was no humanly way he could absorb all the information in one time, especially since she spoke fast when she got excited.

Tizarin had two borthers, as well as her parents living on Trill. None joined. Her father was a legal solicitor, or the Trill equivalent of a lawyer. Her mother taught as a private tutor- teaching history. Something Tizarin mused had been significantly altered over the past few days. She honestly didn't know what her brothers were doing, now.

When she was done, Saul tapped on his communicator again. "All right.. this should give me something to start with, and I'll keep you updated. Now, as for what you could do for me."

The Intelligence Officer paused. He knew that his request could cost lives of untreated patients, but he needed someone local, and Tizarin just cast herself as the best selection for the role.

"There will come a time - in an hour, a day, a week, I don't know - when I'll need a Trill to help me in a very important personal errand... very important. When the time will come, I will ask you to escort me and help me. All I ask is that you come along, and help me, while remainning discrete about it. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."

Tizarin ndded slowly. "I'll do what I can. Just find my family, Saul, please.", and she put a hand on his shoulder. "After that you can ask anything of me you wish."

Saul was about to make a joke, but then something very rare happened - he realized the situation was too grim and serious to make fun of it. Instead, he patted her forarm, then gently removed her hand. "I'll do my best.", he repeated.

OOC: Backpost; takes place just before the Galaxy gets the news about the disaster on Trill. Sorry we didn't get it in sooner :-)

"What Friends are For"

Counselor Branwen London,
Starfleet Marine Corp

Dr. Tizarin Lias, Lieutenant, jg

===========================

Tizarin walked into the office-space Branwen was using as a Counselor's Office without ringing the usual door chme, or knocking, or anything. She was rubbing her temples and seemed to be in a hurry.

"Well hello to you, doctor." Bran said with a grin.

The Trill doctor sat on the long couch that adorned one wall of the small room, and put he rhands in her lap. "How are you doing this morning ?" she asked. "I could sure use a cup of coffee. I think both I and my symbiont have headaches."

"I am fine." Bran said noticing that Ti needed to talk. She got up, went to the replicator and handed her a cup of coffee. "Here you go."

"I've been promoted, Bran." Tizarin said. "I am now, officialy, the USS Galaxy's Assistant Chief Medical Officer." she lay down on the couch, and stretched her body out. "Dr. Fineberg must like my legs or something... because I'm no where qualified for such a position." her arms folded behind her head, Tizarin let her sea-greene eyes fall on the young Marine. "I mean... I'm a bloody ensign. Not exactly what you want in the 'heartbeat away' position."

"Congratulations, you deserve it. I should know, you were able to put me at ease there, not an easy feat. Why do you think you can't do it?" She asked her friend who was now acting like a patient.

"Experience." Tizarin replied. "I've never even been in command of a lab project, let alone a whole sickbay. And that's what would happen if Klaus is on an away mission, or something." the Trill sat up, spreading her fingers out on the soft material that covered the couch, as she sat with her back, and arms, quite straight. "I just don't know if I'm ready for command."

"Why do you doubt it?" Bran asked softly.

"Experience." Tizarin said, again. "I dunno. Maybe just me, you know. As far as my symbiont is concerned this the third life. My first host was a hermit, my second a pampered aristocrat. And I'm still a little green, if you follow me. I'm no 100% confident in my social skills. Thank the prophets, or whatever powers there be in the universe for Madison..." Tizarin let her voice trail off. She wanted to tell someone about her affair with the lovely young ambassador. And she felt she could trust Bran.

"Madison...?" Bran asked in her therapist way.

Tizarin looked down, and then back up at her friend; the look on her face was that of a young girl about to confess to her first romance. And she was actually blushing. "My girlfriend." she said, softly. "She's an ambassador's daughter. And she's here, on the Galaxy, as a liason officer."

"I see." Ti was her friend. So she didn't want to bother with her views on same-sex relationships. It was so complicated, yet it was difficult for her to accept. At the same time bran did not want to be narrow minded. "That's great."

Tizarin smiled. "It is. I've learned a lot about the universe at large from Madison." she said. "I don't think she's much older than I am, but she has definitely been around if you know what I mean. Her father even ran for president of the Federation some time ago." from her tone Branwen could tell Tizarin was very proud of her lover.

"She sounds special. I am very sorry, I grew up thinking same-sex relationships were evil. It will take me a little while to adjust. It's nothing personal, you know I like you a great deal."

"Branwen, you forget, I've seen first hand how you grew up." Tizarin said. "So, it doesn't surprise me that you were taught to believe something like that. I don't take any personal offense. It's not your fault. But... maybe I could help, you some. Break down some of those barriers your childhood built up. Be your guide through a new, and unexplored world if you will."

Branwen blushed furiously. "You don't mean... you don't want..." she stopped.

Tizarin couldn't help but giggle a bit, at Branwen's expression. "No... I'm not suggesting we sleep together. I don't mean that. I mean.... you were brought up in a very old fashioned way. I'm just suggesting I show you around the outside world. There's probably lots of things that your parents, and your culture told you were evil, that really are as harmless as a cheese souffle."

"And my faith. I still find it difficult. My reasoning tells me my upbringing was wrong, yet still I think I will go to hell if I deviate from it too much." And still Branwen also felt ashamed to say this. Life could be so confusing.

Tizarin exhaled, loudly. "Now that's hard, I'll admit." she said. "The Trill- we've never had much of a belief in an afterlife. I guess that's a logical course of evolution for a species whose most intimate memories and experiences get handed down from host to host. I guess, in a way, our afterlife is the life of our next host. Hell in that context would be for your last host to be a bad one. Tell me about your people, and your belief system. I'd like to learn to understand it if I could."

"You saw a little. My grandfather started this commune when he renounced the modern world. Some other families of friends followed him. So now we live completely sequestered from the world on our own patch of land in South Wales. We also follow a very old version of the Bible, and almost everything you do is wrong. When I lived at home I was not allowed to do anything on Sunday, because that would make God angry. It took me a long time to be able to relax and enjoy myself on Sundays."

"That's the thing that has always confused me about religions." Tizarin said. "Gods are always supposed to be good, and kind, and loving, and yet it is so easy to make them mad." she smiled, almost grimly. "Well, Branwen, I'm not going to say 'give it up', as far as your faith is concerned. But... you're not on that little patch of land anymore. I think the first thing we need to do is show you how to have a really good time."

"Good time? I do know how to enjoy myself." Branwen laughed a little.

"What do you do for fun." Tizarin asked, sitting back and relaxing some; crossing her long legs.

"Some reading, working out." She hesitated. "And am not sure if I have a boyfriend." She then told Ti the whole difficult situation with Saul and Nara. "Should I back off? She has known him longer. I don't know what to do."

Tizarin let off a sigh, as Branwen finished her story. "Whew... that is an interesting problem. Let me ask you- of paramount importance... do you love him ?"

"Yes... yes for me it was love at first sight." Branwen admitted.

"Because if you love him, then, pursue it." Branwen said. "That's my advice. Make sure he knows how you feel. Then let him judge for himself who he loves more, or wants to spend his life with more. I know Bental. He's a good guy. And you could definitely do a lot worse. So... that's my advice. If you really love him, go for it. Try and make it happen."

"Thank you. That's what I'm doing at the moment. But I find it difficult not knowing." She smiled shyly.

"Not knowing who Saul's heart goes out to more, you mean ?" Tizarin said. "Want me to find out. Bental's a friend. Something of a buddy. I could always hint around it and see what he says. At least it could give you some idea of where he stands."

She smiled brightly. "Would you do that for me! That would be wonderful! Thank you." Branwen hugged her friend.

Tizarin was a bit surprised at Branwen's sudden show of emotion, but she didn't mind. She liked Branwen. And, somehow, she would always see something of the scared young girl of Bran's past in the grown woman she knew on the Galaxy.

"Sure I would..." she replied, hugging Branwen back. "What are friends for ?"

"Thank you." Branwen said smiling and feeling much better. "And since you are in my office, is there anything else you want to talk about?"

Tizarin giggled. "You know... just talking to you has made me feel a lot better. You're good at what you do, Branwen. You make a person relax and feel comfortable. And that's really what I needed. Thank you."

Branwen smiled. "Any time, that is what friends are for."

"Tick.. Tick.Tick."

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

:: USS Akula, Auxiliary Engineering. Crash site outside Caves of Mak'ala, Trill ::

Brianna was working with the console when some security officers arrived on scene to tell her to stop, per the Captain's orders until a demolitions expert arrived on scene to check for sabotage. Anna was struck with a stupid stick by the look as she looked at the two lieutenants. "Lieutenant. I've got less then two minutes now to try and stop the countdown. I don't have time to wait on demolition experts. with respect, to the Captain and is order I've got to stop it." Anna said, kneeling back down to work at severing the connection from the computer core to the destruct sequence. As she worked she knew she could be putting her career on the line, but she couldn't very well sit around and let the ship explode waiting on the 'experts' to arrive.

"'Commander, you need to stop." Lt. Roads said, as she stood there. "Captain M'kantu wants this place checked out by demolition experts."

"Lieutenant.I've got less then a minute and half to stop this thing or Trill, as it is right now, will not be here!" Anna snapped as she pulled her tricorder and taking a moment to check for problems.

"Hand me that tool kit." She said, "Do it!" Brianna ordered and the other reluctantly did as she ordered.

Taking the kit she pulled out the desired tool and began to work at getting the isoliener chip out, it was hard since the panel was cracked. Removing the wrong would send a signal that would make the destruct initiate. Biting her lower lip, Anna rolled onto her back and slid back up under the console and began to cruse as if she was a sailor.

"Sixty seconds.."

"I'm working on it." Anna said, as she kept herself cool.

"Forty five seconds.." Roads said, looking at the count down with his partner.

"Might want to hurry 'Commander." The other said.

"I said I'm working on it." Brianna stated.

"Twenty five seconds."

Anna took a soft breath, started to recite a Irish prayer.

"Ten seconds."

"Nine.."

"Eight.."

"Seven.."

"Six.."

"Five.."

"Four."

"Three."

"Shut up!" Anna snapped.

"One."

Everyone, including held there breath. The two guards squinted there eyes as she laid there. Sliding out she looked up at them, holding the isoliener chip in her hand. "Boys. call it in. someone in here needs a new uniform." Anna said, grinning at them for minute and laying there. The destruct sequence had been stopped.

"Tragic News"

Gary & Allas Roswell (APCs)

**USS Miranda,
Allas Roswell's Quarters

Allas plopped down on the couch in the shared quarters. She didn't have to have a room mate, but she chose to. Not having Gary or Nara around got lonely. But being that her room mate and her had separate shifts, even that didn't help.

Allas walked over to her computer console, hoping to find a note from Gary and the few rare notes that Nara sent.

What she found was an urgent note from Star Fleet. The message it contained was something that sent Allas into a shock. As her mind caught on to it, she stood and whispered, "No." She shook her head. She just couldn't accept that her only child was dead.

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

**Sakaria, The Roswell Home

Gary looked at the information in front of him. The wind blew the tent making it flap wildly. It would rain tonight. Gary had left the battlefield for a few days. He had to set up this tent and made it somewhat able to live in when Allas got her leave. He understood why she wanted to come back to Sakaria. He didn't understand why she didn't want to stay somewhere else.

He rubbed his chin thinking. Some of the pieces were coming together, but not quite. Suddenly, a crash was heard outside. He stood and walked outside and looked over the several yards toward where the remains of their home stood. It had been weeks and there was no time to clean up, yet alone rebuild. He wished there were. The crash was a result of some piece of frame that had yet to fall and it seemed it needed only the wind to make its way fully to the ground.

As his mind went back to the information and any ideas he had of who would assassinate his daughter, his eyes caught view of the large, tall building miles away. What had been a tall, gleaming white structure was now riddled with black spots where bombs had hit. Tears filled his eyes suddenly.

For a moment, he wanted to relent. To let the rebels win. To join the Federation and make safe zones safe again. But then the rebels would get their way with the conquer and rule as well. The option was to keep fighting involving the whole planet in hopes of being in complete peace again. Or relenting and have just enough peace to make most places safe again.

He shook his head and sighed. Maybe joining the Federation would be the answer. Maybe they would all agree to a compromise. Join the Federation, but no conquer and rule. Sakaria would stay united for the most part but they would be forced into an alliance they really didn't need and obligations he rather stay out of unless he was actually on a Starfleet vessel.

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

** Sakaria, The Roswell Home, 3 Days Later

Gary held his weeping wife stroking her hair. His eyes were red as well. He wished with all his life he could tell her Nara was alive, but the less people who knew, the better chance their daughter could stay in that condition.

Allas had meetings with counselors, including her superior and finally the captain. She had gotten leave to return to Sakaria. She looked at him and said for the millionth time, "She knew better. Why would she risk her life to go into that building?"

Gary kissed her forehead, "You're not really surprised are you? She'd run into battle without thinking twice. She probably couldn't get a good enough reading, so she went inside."

Allas furrowed her brow, "You hadn't been on a ship in awhile, but I didn't think I'd have to remind you of normal protocols, which Nara had followed since she's been in the Academy! She's not careless!" She broke down in more weeps.

Gary held her closer, "I'm sorry. Of course she's not. If anything, she's zealous." There was no good way to explain it. Under normal circumstances Nara wouldn't had gone in there. He'd hope not anyway. He'd hope she'd learned her lesson about rushing in without looking.

"I just can't believe she's gone!" Allas wailed.

Gary began to weep, willing himself not to give his wife comforting words he knew he had.

He also dreaded the day she would find out the truth.

Several year ago, he had wanted to throw her a surprise birthday party before and had convinced everyone on the Starbase to act as if they had forgotten. Allas acted depressed all day and when the surprise party came at the end of the evening, she was ecstatic to the point of tears. That night, however, Gary got a tongue lashing and was forced to sleep on the couch.

For an hour. Til Allas came in and whispered in his ear, "Such sweet revenge." He had opened his eyes then and they kissed and she took his hand to lead him back to their bed.

Coming back to the present, he sighed and kissed her forehead.

This was not a practical joke. Nothing could be more serious. Nothing burned his anger more than this. Nara was hiding who knows where and if even a hint of her still living got out, her life would be in danger. His wife was mourning when there was no need to.

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

Several hours later, Allas was asleep on a cot by the corner as Gary continued to look at information and form theories in his head. He heard her stir and pressed a button bringing up a screensaver. He moved over to her before she opened her eyes and whispered, "Hello my love." The soft afternoon light filtered through the tent showing her eyes weren't as red.

She opened her eyes and touched the hand he placed on the side as he knelt beside her. "Do you know what it's like to enter the mind of a baby?"

Gary looked at her strangely. Neither she nor Nara particularly wanted to use their telepathy. Allas used it only when ordered or if it would help in a life or death situation. Last he understood, Nara wanted nothing to do with it. The question itself seemed odd, "You know I don't, dear."

"I never told her. I knew she would have been upset, but when she was too young to understand anything, I entered her mind. Some people say a baby's mind is empty, that there are no thoughts as their brains aren't yet able to hold information. I don't know if that's true, but Nara's mind wasn't empty. She had emotions and thoughts. Fleeting thoughts, but thoughts. And they were pure. There was no mis-trust, hate or anything negative."

He just watched his wife speak as she was in awe thinking of it all again. She sighed shakily, "I know she'd not allow it, but I would have liked to have known her mind now."

Gary kissed her cheek. He wondered if Nara and Allas had missed a connection that was special only to them. He wondered if he would have been jealous. They could read his mind, but he wouldn't be able to read theirs. But had they chosen they could communicate with each other their emotions and thoughts, it would be a very intimate thing.

~My dear Allas, how I wish you could read my mind and know what I can't say. That you could hear my thoughts. You'll get that chance to see Nara's mind. At least to ask.~ Instead he spoke, "Imzadi, before you, Sakaria was my life. You know how I love this planet and it's people, but I would leave this place forever if it meant bringing Nara and your joy back." He meant it. Except, he had to stay to save her life. He had to find this evil person and put an end to this.

"Did you miss me?"

With Captain Darren M'Kantu and the bridge crew.

The Trill homeworld hung in space, battered scarred and bruised. Thick dark clouds hung in the atmosphere like an angry scar upon the surface of the purple planet. On the surface, hundreds of Trill labored in near exhaustion side by side with Starfleet personnel, rescuing those trapped in the rubble and more often than not recovering the dead.

High above them, the USS GALAXY held orbit - her Captain, Darren M'Kantu, rubbed his eyes as he poured over yet another report of what was going on down below. In this one, it was reported that a diminutive Starfleet Marine calling himself Major Logg was being detained for questioning by local authorities after he was found in the women's locker room at one of the shelters. The man claims he was just looking for terrorists by checking female trills for spots.

"Computer, do we have any Gorn officers aboard the ship?" M'Kantu asked, envisioning himself hurling Major Logg - who was no doubt Leo Streely - into a Gorn's gaping maw.

::There are no Gorns currently on the Galaxy manifest.::

Too bad - he thought to himself as he stood and stretched. The long hours had started to take their toll on his bones, leaving him feeling a little achy and reminding him that he was far from a fresh faced cadet, eager to pull all night shifts.

He strode out onto the bridge and eased himself into the Captain's Chair.

The latest reports put the nearest Starfleet vessels hours away. He was eager to have the assistance of another ship. His crew was operating efficiently, but he knew that they were tiring. It would be good to...

"Captain, sensors indicate a ship approaching. It appears to be a Federation." said Lt. Hardigan from the tactical arch, the pink scar on his fore head looking a little darker than usual. (Yeah! Uncle Joe just saw Sin City and couldn't resist a SC NPC!)

M'Kantu was puzzled. It was alittle early for a Federation ship to be arriving.

"Do we have an identification yet?" he asked.

"It's the USS DIIS. ( Anyone know where that comes from? ) "

"The DISS? An interesting name for a ship." M'Kantu said thoughtfully. "Hailing frequencies open."

"Aye sir" Hardigan said. A tiny beep signaled the Captain that the order had been obeyed.

"USS DISS, THIS IS CAPTAIN DARREN M'KANTU OF THE USS GALAXY. WE ARE PLEASANTLY SUPRISED TO SEE YOU. WE COULD USE YOUR..."

"CAPTAIN!!! THE DISS IS POWERING UP HER WEAPONS!!! PHOTON TORPEDOES HAVE BEEN FIRED!!!" Hardigan shouted.

"Shields up!" M'Kantu ordered.

"NOT RESPONDING!!" Hardigan called out.

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!!" Darren called out and moments later the ship shook under the concussive blasts.

"I need those shields up yesterday!" the Captain said, making no effort to hide the urgency in his tone. "Also give me a damage report as soon as possible!"

"We're being hailed, sir." Hardigan said, then placed the hail on screen.

The face that appeared on the viewscreen caused M'Kantu's face to darken.

"Hi, Kids! Did you miss me?" Commander Christopher Thomas, former First officer of the USS GALAXY asked with a sneer on his face.

"Reality Check"

Ensign Emily Fellbaum, JAG Officer.

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

Trill Homeworld - Near Ground Zero.

The devistation was too much for Emily. Just being on the planet mere hours after the Galaxy arrived was taxing enough on her nerves, but for being on the ground for so long with all of the suffering going on... it made her break down into tears more than once already. Thankfully there were still survivors. A few hours ago she helped locate and free a young Trill girl who was buried underneath a bunch of rubble. With Emily being the smallest of the search team she was with, was asked to crawl into the rubble and help calm the girl down as the resuce workers began pulling debris. After a few hours of work, the girl was freed and immidately whisked off to the nearest medical facility. The whole ordeal left her feeling good that she was able to help out someone else in a venue other than the Judicial Courts.

Trill was a bit of a wake-up call for her. Never before had she been exposed to this kind of devistation, this kind of carnage. Emily was quite literally a sheltered child and it burned her to know that her parents and family had kept things from her. Wolf 359 when she was a little girl was merely a minor skirmish in her mind. The Dominion War was passed off at the dinner table as nothing more than a few names and statistics. Now reality was crashing in on her and there was nothing to shelter her now.

She took a swig of water from her canteen and wiped some of the grime from her face. She couldn't help but wonder why her parents and her family back home were so... so... so snobbish. It gave her a whole new outlook on life. Her family hadn't done much in terms of the whole galaxy, yet they acted like it revolved around them and the Boston Elite. Tears welled up in her eyes at the injustice of it all. Here people were suffering and back home they carried on like nothing is the matter.

She resolved to change that whenever she got shore leave. The whole prospect made her sick. She'd make them face reality just as she had.

Emily took another swig of water and then whipped out her tricorder, it was time to go back to work.

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