"Entanglements" (Part II)

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer
Strategic Operations Officer, Hydran Sector Handler, Starfleet Intelligence

Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx,
Starfleet Strategic Operations Liaison [APC: M. Miller]

****

Deck 35: Aft Observation Lounge

For the tenth time that night, Ekoma Janx wondered if maybe she had overdressed. This was supposed to be a *serious* dinner, after all. She and Cassius had things they needed to air to each other; to talk about.

Also, for the tenth time that night, she wondered why in the great galaxy she had decided to go with the mid-heels. They were killing her calves. Cassius would be here any minute. ~Oh, to hell with the heels,~ she thought as she kicked them off, and into a corner of the room.

She sat down in her seat at the white-linen table that was in the center of the small, sunken-well observation lounge. ~Maybe I should stand?~ she thought to herself, before doing so, trying to lean her arm on her seat's backrest.

No, she probably looked even more dumb, now. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, thrusting her hips to one side, while thinking to herself, ~I should have worn the *blue* dress.~ Oh well, green would have to do.

"C'mon, Cass," she quietly whispered, hoping he'd arrive soon.

This time, fate *was* on her side.

Cass slipped into the room a few minutes later than he'd been going for. He hadn't had much of a choice in the matter. Kreighoff had caught him in the hall and updated him in the investigation into the death of the Rihannsu Ambassador. The whole thing was really bothering him. It had the potential to finally snap the fragile alliance between the tr'Chandrix government on ch'Rihan and President Bacco's administration, and responsibility for it was solidly on his shoulders.

But at least with Ekoma he could forget about that, and concentrate on something much closer to his heart - a more pressing concern. He'd chosen a fairly relaxed look, swapping his sweatshirt for a striped blue button down but leaving the jeans he'd chosen earlier. As he descended to meet up with her at the table, he was taken - as he usually was - with her beauty. The green dress brought out the green in her eyes.

Once again, his mind was filled with dread that he'd lose hold of her. Like the alliance with the Rihannsu, their relationship was in a weakened state, mostly due to circumstances beyond their control. Hopefully this evening would serve to sort those circumstances out. "You look wonderful, Ekoma."

She smiled at him, really for the first time since the night alone in his quarters. The night that T'Shani had nearly kicked down the door, wrapped in a towel, and had literally demanded Cass's affection, right then and there. ~Andorians...~ she thought. She'd never understand such a barbaric race.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she instead told herself to focus on *here*, *now*. She walked over to him, and kissed him gently on the cheek. "You too, cowboy. Now, sit."

"Who am I to argue with a beautiful woman," he decided out loud, and allowed her to guide him into a seat at the table. The lady Trill seemed considerably more friendly now than she had in the weight room; more like she usually was with him. Hopefully, that meant the situation was at least partially defused.

Pulling the cover off of the shrimp stir-fry (Cassius's favorite dish, but one that took Ekoma *forever* to learn to prepare), she offered the steaming dish to Cass first. "I hope you like it, Hon," she told him, "I tried to use *real* ingredients, though the shrimp were hard to come by... so... I'm not quite sure how it tastes... " she trailed off, realizing that she might be rambling.

"I'm sure it'll be great," he said, surprised that she'd gone out of her way to not only make his favorite food, but also to track down real ingredients. Given that they had some serious *stuff* to work out, the effort she'd put into the meal was a good indication that she was willing to put the required effort into their conversation. "I'm just impressed you found so many of the ingredients on such short notice."

"That's because I'm wonderful, Cassius," she looked up, a playful sparkle in her green eyes, "And don't you *dare* forget it."

"I doubt I'm capable of forgetting it," he laughed, shuffling around to pull out her chair for her. When she was seated, he took his own seat.

****

Dinner--by Ekoma's measure--actually went pretty well. They had talked and joked, she had mentioned her sister finally getting into the Trill Science Academy, and he had told her of some of the new ideas he had for the Tactical Department. Not once, however, did they talk about Andorians, relationships, or desert-world alien temples.

After they had finished dinner and helped each other clear the table, Ekoma disappeared into the mini-kitchen, then returned with two fluted glasses, and a bottle of Jaxom Vineyards Champagne. Walking over to the sunken observation well, she sat down on one of the couches, and motioned for Cassius to do so, as well.

He moved over to sit beside her, a little closer than he'd dared to go this morning, when she'd been clearly angry. It was probably time for the conversation that they'd both been avoiding, but the tempo of the room was still a lot more relaxed than it had been in the weight room. Cass accepted the glasses from her and held them for her to pour.

Ekoma uncorked the bolt of champagne, letting the head flow off the bottle before pouring first to Cass's flute, then one for herself. Placing the bottle on a nearby table, she held her glass up to Cass.

"Okay, lay it on me," he said, arching a curious eyebrow. He leaned toward her and raised his glass to match.

She clinked her glass to his, then took a swig... a little too much. She scrunched her nose as the fizz almost caused her to sneeze.

"Cassius," she started, setting her glass down and looking him straight in the eyes, "*what* happened down there?" she paused, then spoke again rapidly, before he could interject. "I... I think I have a right to know, Cass..." she said softly.

"I think you do, too," he replied, locking eyes with her. He shook his head in agreement. "Given the situation, it'd place you at a disadvantage not to know. And I wouldn't want our relationship to be based on a lie or an omission... I'm just not sure where to start. It was very complicated."

"Start at the beginning, Cassius," she gently encouraged. Though she wanted to really know what had happened between the two, and how he felt for T'Shani now, she knew that she needed to hear the whole tale, to be able to maintain the proper perspective. Briefly, she turned her gaze away from him, and took a demure sip from her champagne flute.

"Well, Lieutenant a'Akledorian and I were leading a team to investigate the disappearance of some of the Mirusa Project scientists," he began, after getting his thoughts in order. It was a hell of a story, when you thought about it. "After coordinating with the Hydran Imperial Guards, we entered the most prominent temple, which centered around a vaguely Hydranoid icon, with a smooth, featureless face."

"It didn't take very long for the entire situation to take a turn for the worse. One of the away team members - I'm still not sure who - touched something, and the icon transformed into a guardian of sorts... It animated and began to attack the away team with some kind of transporter beam."

Ekoma couldn't help but raise her eyebrows as Cassius paused to sip his drink and collect his thoughts. She had heard that there had been some activity, underground, but things were so tightly-wrapped, intelligence-wise, that not much more than that had been leaked.

"As it turned out, the temple was dedicated to the predecessors of the Hydran progress deities, the Nerru. Each of the members of the away team were subjected to tests designed to help them progress as a person," he explained, hesitating a moment before starting the part that was most likely to bother her. "T'Shani and I were tested together, as the Nerru Guardians sensed that we had a troubled relationship."

"Troubled... *relationship*?" she repeated into a question, making sure to keep her tone even. She quashed the tiny, silly flare of jealousy that kept popping up at the mention of T'Shani. She knew she shouldn't feel that way: she should be more secure about her relationship with Cassius. But she realized that those two had a longer history than her's and Cass's current relationship. Waving her hand in the air to dismiss her interjection, she then motioned for him to continue.

"Relationship can mean a lot of things, Eko," he replied anyway. "Acquaintances, friends, family, lovers... they're all the relationship between two people. My relationships with you and T'Shani are equally close, but they're not in the same category. Not really."

"Okay..." she said, an uncertainty flavoring the undertone of her acknowledgment. She wanted to ask how that could be, but didn't, suspecting there was much more to the story.

"Anyway," he said, continuing on. "The Nerru Guardian used some kind of technology to merge our consciousnesses. It was like we were sharing our bodies. I felt everything that she did, and heard every thought that she made. It was very unnerving."

"After giving us time to adjust to that, the Guardian subjected us to a series of flashbacks," he said, pausing to consider whether he should tell her what they were. After a few seconds, he decided that she had a right to know the whole story, unfiltered, and continued on. "The first was a flashback to when T'Shani was a teenager at the Andorian colony on Seltax VII. I experienced, firsthand, her torture at the hands of a Rihannsu general, and her witnessing the destruction of her home city."

"After each vision, we were given a brief respite. Mostly to consider what we'd experienced and listen to comments by the Guardian."

Ekoma didn't know how to respond. Obviously, this kind of experience was totally outside her realm of knowledge. And she had never known of the Lieutenant's torture... she suddenly felt ashamed for the way she had thought of the woman.

Cass continued on, as much to continue the story as to spare Ekoma her embarrassment. "The following was.... I've told you this one before. It was the time on Pacifica, when my fiance left me after our child miscarried. I think it was supposed to show T'Shani that I hadn't exactly had the easiest life, either."

Ekoma nodded, remembering him telling her about that incident, how he had lost not only his child, but his future wife, as well.

"After that, we were shown an experience that we'd had together - the basis of her attraction to me," he replied. "The incident itself is still classified, but the important part was that I saved her life, pretty much against the advice of my direct superiors."

Ekoma was starting to piece together what Cass was building to, and she wasn't sure if she was comfortable with that inevitable conclusion. Cass had told her some brief outlining sketches of what had happened on that Romulan base, but--since it was Classified--she didn't have all the details.

But if he *had* gone back to rescue her... it could explain why Tish was so fixated on him, now.

"At that point, the Nerru decided that our understanding of each other had improved enough for us to have passed the test," he began to wrap the story up. Now for the hard part. "As a reward, it showed us a vision of a possible future, with us at war with the Hydrans. T'Shani and I had been estranged for several years, but we reconciled... and fell in love."

He sighed. "So there you have it... the terrible truth."

"Fell... In... *Love*?" She asked slowly, trying to keep her tumbling emotions from showing on her face or in her voice. 'Keep it together, Eko,' she scolded herself. She had *known* this was coming, and before she could stop herself, she drew her conclusion aloud: "You made love to her, Cassius..." she trailed off, then looked away, willing herself *NOT* to cry, dammit!

"No, I didn't," he replied, not exactly sure how to respond. He reached over and touched her bare forearm. "Eko, a vision given by a Hydran god is *NOT* reality. It may not even have any basis in reality. It changes how I see her, I'm not going to lie. But I didn't make love to her, have sex with her, or anything like that. After the vision ended, it gave us an artifact and released us. End of story."

Ekoma shrunk back as he tried to cradle her, suddenly not wanting him to touch her. She stood quickly, almost knocking her glass over as she paced to the viewport. "Is it, Cassius?" she asked, wiping at a forming tear.

He sighed and leaned back, away from her. "I'd love to say yes, Ekoma, but I can't really... No man can tell the future. I certainly wasn't expecting what happened on the planet to happen. My relationship with T'Shani is something that I don't understand. On some days we're not talking to each other, and the relationship is bitter silence. Other days, she wants me to love her. Some days, I want to love her..." His voice trailed off at that admission. "Eko, the only guarantee that I can make to you is that I love you. Of that I'm certain," he said, finally straightening the thoughts and ideas out in his mind. "But that's all I'm really certain of."

Ekoma nodded, though it didn't feel like her moving her head. One part of her understood what he was saying, the other wanted to scream at him: *make* him choose only her. Still, a distant third part wanted to just say "To hell with all this," and forget about men, love, and Andorian women. Instead, she quietly turned back to where he was sitting and stood over him. With her back to the light, only shadow engulfed her usually cheery face.

"Cassius, I... I'm not sure, about *anything*, anymore," she started quietly, not quite sure how to articulate her feelings. "I'm strongly attracted to you," she paused, wondering if he'd catch on the fact that she hadn't used the 'love' word, "and I find myself thinking of a future with you, even." She raised her head, moving slightly so that one side of her face was back in the light, her green eyes locking on him.

"I've had those thoughts myself," he nodded, returning her gaze in as unchallenged a manner as possible. "I don't remember if I've told you this before, but you're the stability in my life. You have been since we met on the bridge a couple months ago and started talking. I know it's too soon to tell, clearly, but I want you to know that when *I* think of the future, you're there."

She allowed a smile, although a very small one, and moved to sit down on the couch, beside him. "Cass, maybe this can work... maybe it can't. But *something* did happen down there, and you and T'Shani need to clear the air about it." She held up her hand as he began to protest, then rested it on his chest. As much as she didn't really *like* the Andorian shen, Ekoma didn't really *hate* her, either. But this was something only Cassius and T'Shani could put to rest... not her.

"No, Cassius, listen to me. I can see it in your eyes, when she's around. I'm not angry. Maybe a little hurt, a little insecure, I'll admit. But you've got to set things right with her first, before you can move on... " she paused, then amended, "Before *we* can move on."

Cassius wasn't sure how to react, exactly. He was a man ruled by many things, the most important of which were duty and truth. But how could he act, choose, or otherwise resolve when duty was muddled and truth was no longer enough? It was something he knew he was going to have to struggle with.

In the modern era, it wasn't abnormal to see marriages and relationships that involved more than two people, depending on the species and the religion. But for Ekoma Janx, the daughter of conservative Trill rapeg farmers, that probably wasn't an option that would even occur to her. T'Shani, whose species required four *Andorians* to even consider procreation, added another unhelpful dimension.

In the end, what he really knew was that he cared very deeply for both women. However, while that may have been good enough for him, they both seemed intent on making him choose, one way or the other. For a man whose knowledge of politics played a central role in his life, he couldn't help but be frustrated that everything had to be so black and white.

But wisely, he kept his mouth shut.

With a tone of tender understanding in her voice, she leaned in to kiss him on his jaw, and whispered in his ear, "I see you have alot to think about, Cassius." She pulled away, yet put her left hand to the side of his face to feel the strong set of his jaw, the chiseled features of his face in the dim light. "And I know, in the end, you always make the right decisions. That's what endears you to me, and why you'll become a great Captain, someday."

She turned her face, dropping her hand to her lap. "But on this, you've got to choose. I know this isn't what you want, and I understand your feelings are mixed, right now. I... I *believe* you when you say you love me," she quickly looked to his face, and then down again. "I just need you to believe that, too."

She stood quickly, and started walking toward the door. Pausing, she turned to face him once again. "When you *know*... and only when you know, then come find me. I promise I'll wait until your word, Cassius. Goodbye."

With that pronouncement, the doors silently slid shut on Cassius Henderson, once again. "There is no way this is going to end well," he muttered as he stood up to clear away the remains of their meal. Perhaps transferring to another ship and starting over would be a better idea, after all.

[Admiral Proctor to Commander Henderson, report to my conference room, immediately,] the harsh voice of Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor issued from his comm badge.

He shook his head. ~Yep, No way this is going to end well.~

"Space Sickness?"

By: 2nd Lieutenant Ayden O'Connor

==

"One mile, no sweat... two miles, better yet..." uttered the panting second lieutenant as he passed his 12th lap on the track, thick sweat soaking through his PT uniform. It was a bright day outside, with temperatures in the low 90's, just like any summer day in San Francisco. The stadium was empty, which was unusual for for this time of day. Not a single runner, nor any spectators to cheer them on. But that was how he liked it, which meant that he'd often have to rouse in the early morning for physical training, spoiling the beautiful scenery he could now observe.

His footing seemed somewhat awkward, as though he could sense the differential between normal and artificial gravity. No matter how similiar someone got it, the generators could never perfectly mimic his homeworld. At first he thought he could ignore it, but after a bit it seemed too much, like a thorn stuck in his foot.

As soon as he crossed the white line for the 13th time, he brought his pace down to an immediate stop, grabbing his knees tightly as he gasped for air. "Computer, time!" He heaved with strain in his throat. He felt light headed, as the world spinned and whirled in an unpredictable motion that made him want to sit down. He stood upright, and started to walk slowly, pressing his hands into his hips.

[Present time from start is nineteen minutes and thirty-two seconds, distance completed is five kilometers]

Ayden smiled faintly, tasting the salty taste of his sweat as it dripped into his mouth. "Not bad... now if only I can..." And with that, his world tilted completely, sending the young officer to the ground with a solid thud.

There was a seering pain in his eyes, and his head felt like it was rolling over his neck, ready to fall off at any moment. "Computer! End program!" He yelled, barely noticing the environment around him fade into a yellow and gray grid. He gripped at his temples hard, trying to force the pain away until suddenly, it vanished on it's own.

Looking up, he watched as his vision slowly returned to him. "What the hell was that?" He demanded of himself. He had worked himself hard today but not so hard to suddenly crash like that. He felt heavier than before, even after spending a few days on the ship, yet off balance. Maybe it was space sickness? He had suffered from it once before when he was in space for the first time, but not since then.

~Time to visit sickbay, then~ He thought wryly, picking himself up slowly as to not incite another slipup. At least the doctors could give him some medicine, if it was truely space sickness, that would help until he adjusted to the Galaxy's gravitation field.

"Aftermath of Ashes" or "In Memorium"

Ensign Kiel Counselor, USS Galaxy

Location: Counseling Center, Deck 14
Soundtrack: 'Mystic's Dream' by Loreena McKennett

* * * * * * *

In the darkened alcove where the ship's young El Aurian worked, a single candle illuminated the thin, concave window that looked out upon the debris field, the boy shaking out the match he'd used to ignite the flame. A symbol. An iconic prayer that represented his hopes for all the souls of the departed unknown. And one unnamed lieutenant who'd survived the diaster of the day, but not lived to be rescued.

There had been mention of away teams to go over to the station. Kiel was glad that no one had tasked him with another outing. He'd had enough adventuring for this day. Certainly had a fill of ghost ships for the time being. Setting the smoking, smoldering match aside, the youth made his way to the eliptical shaped desk picking up the data PADD there and resuming the report on the incident on the USS Argo ruins that he'd set aside. He'd not gotten more than a few lines into it when he'd needed a break. A sonic shower and a change of clothes.

He'd switched out of uniform. It was the norm for him actually. It seemed the uniform had something to do with why people came to see counselors. So why wear them as a reminder of what those individuals were seeking a temporary escape from? The slender preadolescent youth was garbed in a dark, loose, long-sleeved V-neck shirt. Black across the shoulders and sleeves, banded across the chest with silvery pipping and charcoal gray from mid torso down. Light trousers of a black material completed the outfit. It was all rather muted. But then, he was in a rather muted mood.

Staring out of that porthole upon the debris field, the boy seemed to contemplate the stars for guidance on how to express the deluge of conflict and sorrow that left no words sufficient to describe the experience of having been in the ruins of that ship. Laid upon a stack of bodies. Being held captive at gun point. Watching a man that you'd been sent to save... die.

The young El Aurian worked in silence, pouring over the PADD in ernest as he coaxed the words and descriptions across the screen. It wasn't much of a report. There really wasn't much to say. It had been neither a failure or a success. It had merely been the way that things had gone with the assignment. And, to that end, Kiel could only offer his sympathies and continue adventuring onward. Perhaps a little different tomorrow than yesterday was all.

Glancing over the report with a faint sigh, the youth downloaded the PADD to the ship's computer, transmitting his final draft to Commander Dallas. No doubt the chief counselor would get to it when she found the time. Standing up from behind the desk, the boy made his way back to the window. Where the reflection of that single candle was cast across the transparent alluminum. Like a ghostly apparition against the very fabric of the stars. And those stars... each a separate prayer for the dying and the dead.

OOC: Took place right after "Scooby Gang".

"Sensor Analysis / The Offer"

Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea, CE/SCE Liaison
Michael McDowell, Civilian

*** Main Engineering ***

After the briefing in Main Engineering was finished everyone went to work on their respective tasks without a minute to loose. They needed to get clear what was going on Starbase 5 and as soon as possible. The whole story was one of mystery and Michael felt danger was looming on the horizon. It was all just too sinister.

He'd called up the sensor logs to see what information the sensors scans had gathered. At first sight it was nothing more than garbled signals. You couldn't make head nor tails of it. What was surprising was that there was such strong interference at all, considering the station was running at minimal power. It didn't quite add up.

Michael shifted a bit in his seat. After having looked into every relevant sensor log it was time to see if they could extract some useful information from them. There were some techniques for doing that, all of which he'd learned back at the Academy when had to follow additional training before he got assigned to the USS Windsor.

"Right, time to 'flex some muscles'."

Stepping through the doors to the engineering work station. Anna slid down into the chair beside Michael. "Any luck yet?" She asked, then looked at the screen before her as she tapped in to show what he was looking at.

Michael looked briefly at Anna, acknowledging her presence, and then turned his attention to his console again. "No, I'm afraid not. There's something out there alright, but it looks like it's playing hide and seek."

"Well did you really think that it would just be there with a sign saying, here I am?" Anna asked, then grinned. "So you came in with Dhani... you seeing her?" Brianna asked, as she looked to the sensor logs.

The remark of Anna was unexpected and slightly startled Michael. He stopped with the analysis he was doing. Though he was not seeing Dhani in the way Anna probably was thinking, it still was in the right direction from a certain point of view. "What made you think that?"

Looking over at him. "Don't read so much into, it was just a question." She said. "Dhani mentioned you two came in together. It just lead me to a question if you were seeing each other." She said, then added, "relax some, Michael."

"Right." Michael briefly smiled. He continued with the analysis. "I was just wondering, that's all."

"Speaking of which, what are you doing out here in the first place?" Anna asked, looking back to him. "I'm waiting for a enough time to pass before I start on you about joining the engineering department and come off that sabbatical."

"Who said anything about a sabbatical? I can't remember I ever mentioned that in any of the subspace messages." Michael tapped the last of a series of commands into the computer and in doing so started parsing the sensor data with a different set of filters. "By the way, if you must know, I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought that visiting the Galaxy would be a nice idea."

"My granddad had a saying, Stop pissing on my leg and telling me it's raining." Anna said, glancing over at Michael. "We've known each other for years now Michael. I hope you trust me and think I'm a good friend and when I say I need you here you won't just blow it off as talk."

Michael sat back in his seat. He was confused as to why Anna was trying to get him on her team. Even more confusing was the phrase used. Michael never heard about that one. "You are a good friend and I do trust you. Don't ever doubt that Anna. I just don't understand what you're trying to tell me here. As far as I can see you already have a good team on your hands. Besides, there _was_ a good reason why I stepped out of Starfleet." Michael said. "So, is there something I should know about?"

"So maybe it's more I need a friend on the ship outside the box." Anna said, looking over him. "I can always use more good engineers."

The search for recognizable patterns in the sensor data continued. Michael and Anna just had to wait for results. Until now the computer had not found anything useful. Michael stared at the screen before him as he watched the various subspace bands being parsed.

Anna's offer (if it was really an offer) was kind of tempting. Nothing better then to work as an Engineer on a ship again. But he was not sure how to make it all happen after his two year 'adventure'. Michael wondered if word about what happened had come down the chain of command yet. Maybe, bearing in mind the recent incidents with Section 31. "Are you really serious about this?"

Looking over at him she searched his face for what he was asking. "Michael... I've realized what is important in life. To surround yourself with love ones and great friends. I don't have that many friends. I don't make them that easy. You are a very qualified engineer. I need both, I need you here to tell me when I'm acting like an ass. I need you here to help me keep this ship in top place." She said then looked at him again.

"I'm asking you, as a friend, to seriously considering staying onboard as engineer." She said.

Michael thought for a moment or two. His face radiated nothing but seriousness. However, that was more because of the lack of result from the analysis they were running, not because of Anna's request. Anna's compliments and trust in him felt good, but her statement about not having many friends was the thing that got Michael a bit concerned. Strange actually, since he had kind of the same problem throughout his life, and he didn't worry too much about it...most of the time. "Yeah, it would sure feel good working here again. Of that I'm sure. But, thing is, I don't know what Starfleet Command will think of it..."

"I know many people at Command. I'm willing to give you a formal letter requesting your reinstated. Coming from someone who is ranking officer with the Starfleet Corp of Engineers. I believe the weight of that plus few of my favors being called in. I think it could work." Anna said. "You have to make the decision to want it as much as I want it for you."

Here there was an opportunity to get back in the swing of things and do what he loved doing. A formal letter from Anna would certainly draw some attention and only could be explained as positive. But the people of Starfleet Command would be quick to see who she was talking about and raise an eyebrow or two.

He had quit Starfleet, did some rather radical things in-between then and now - including being responsible for breaking into the main computer of Starfleet HQ - and now he wanted to get back in. On the other hand, if they had seen his report and validated it...well, then there was fair chance he got his wish. Actually, he was wanted more than to just get back into Starfleet but that was of later concern.

After a while Michael decided to go for it and take the chance. "Alright, I' ll accept your offer. I'll be very grateful if you write that letter." There was a slight smile on Michael's face when he continued. "How could I refuse anyway? I love doing this work. You knew that I would say yes."

They both laughed and the conversation went into another direction. About what they had done in the past year and of course about Starbase 5. At one moment the console before them produced a simple but catchy sequence of sounds. For the last hour it had been busy with the analysis of the last sensor log and now it was ready. Michael pursed his lips when he read the information the was displayed on the screen.

"It looks I was wrong. The computer couldn't find any known pattern in the collection of signals. This is a dead end."

“Unanswered Questions”

Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter
Rihannusu Attache Vrih Himne

Vrih Himne staggered through the corridor, almost shrieking with pain.

Ever since he and 8-Ball had returned to the Galaxy, he moaned and groaned about his injury with every step. Back on the planet, he had been in silent agony - but, now that they were out of danger, his pain threshold had dropped dramatically.

In sickbay, a particularly unfriendly doctor had been loath to use a dermal regenerator (designed for humans and species within the United Federation of Planets) on a Rihannusu for what he called a 'minor injury.' To that, Himne had told the doctor how it certainly didn't feel like a minor injury - in fact, he had told the doctor about how it felt more like a major injury.

But it was to no avail. The doctor advised that the wound was best left to heal on its own, especially as all the bleeding had now stopped.

So Himne was now limping down the corridor, with only 8-Ball for support. As her quarters were nearer, that was where they were headed. The doors slid open and Himne collapsed onto the bed.

"Thank you, 8-Ball," he said, in between gasps of breath - he had worn himself out with all the moaning and swearing.

Suddenly he noticed something on 8-Ball's bed, which made him forget his pain briefly. It was a decapitated teddy bear - an item, which Himne had recently discovered, was designed to relieve Terran youngsters of their night-fears. What was 8-Ball, a grown woman, doing with one of them?

He laughed slightly, looking at 8-Ball with raised eyebrows. "I guess you had one too many nightmares, and decided to take it out on the bear, right?" He pointed to the bear's non-existent head, laughing again. "Or do you have children I don't know about?"

"No," 8-ball said distractedly, "no children." She was simultaneously angry with herself for not stuffing the teddy bear's body under her bed where no one could see it, and relieved that she had at least taken down Eptgac's head from it's position on the wall. Himne didn't know about her unique relationship with her teddy bear, so he couldn't have known just how wrong things were, but even he would probably be concerned if his girlfriend had a mounted fuzzy bear head on the wall. ~Thank God for small favors~ she thought.

And for big ones too. 8-ball had recently been discharged Sickbay herself, and her reason for being there had been a great deal more serious than Himne's. They must have just missed each other, and 8-ball was glad for it. The psychotic rage and dizziness seemed to have disappeared with the neural treatment, and 8-ball had no intention of filling her boyfriend in on the strange events of her day. Himne and 8-ball had enough problems in general. They didn't need to start their relationship over with the knowledge that 8-ball was sometimes a raving psychotic.

~Of course~ 8-ball thought ~the collar might be a little hard to explain~. The child doc's "brilliant" strategy for making everyone normal again was to snap collars on their necks which somehow made them less violent. It seemed to be working, of course, but collars and that whole dominatrix style were so two years ago. She decided to ignore it for now and hope that Himne thought it was some weird form of jewelry; he seemed a little preocuppied anyway to notice it.

8-ball surreptiously covered part of the collar with her hair and then picked up the poor, headless body of Eptgac, who she set gently down on the floor and out of sight. On any other day, 8-ball would have just thrown the teddy bear across the room, but she was feeling sort of guilty for murdering an inanimate object. She then walked back over to the bed where Himne was moaning and rolled her eyes at him. "You're being very theatrical, you know," she said, lightly amused. "Your leg injury can't be THAT bad. I mean, it's not about to fall off or anything, is it?"

Himne mock-scowled at her obvious amusement. "Trust me, 8-Ball Hunter, if you were experiencing this amount of pain - you would be inclined to think that any of your limbs could fall off!" His smile, however, was interrupted by another gasp of pain.

Then he looked at her, suddenly realising something for the first time. "It was pure luck that you were in sickbay at the same time as me, as, were it not for your help, I would probably just be a bloody mess in the corridor," he said, rather dramatically considering his wound hadn't bled since he left the planet.

Himne smiled at her. "So, what exactly were you doing in sickbay anyway? Was it like one of those things in ancient Terran romance novels - where lovers are attuned to each other's thoughts - and you heard me crying out from your quarters? Or were you injured somehow?"

8-ball froze in mid-motion, and then made herself move again. She had no idea that Himne had seen her. . .was it possible that she talked to him and didn't remember? No, she didn't think so: otherwise, he'd have known exactly what she was doing there. Definitely time to change the subject, though.

"Oh, I just flit about everywhere," 8-ball said with a smile. She kissed Himne on the cheek and then straightened so that she could look at Himne's supposedly wounded leg. "Hmmm," she said, making sure not to touch the injury. "That looks serious." She moved back to kiss Himne again and touched his face with her hands. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Himne smiled. "Just keep doing that." He snuggled closer to 8-Ball.

Suddenly there was an insistent pounding on the door, and Rihannusu words were shouted through. Himne disentangled himself from 8-Ball, and immediately got up and opened the doors, surprised to find himself face to face with the senator's bodyguards.

Their faces were ashen, yet at the same time furious. Himne then immediately knew something was drastically wrong. The head bodyguard frowned when he saw 8-Ball, wondering why a Vulcan should be privy to the conversation, but turned back to Himne.

"The senator... he has been assassinated," the Rihannusu said, looking down at the floor in shame. "We took him to sickbay as soon as we found him, but it was far too late. Major T'Riasu is nowhere to be found."

"Then she must be the culprit," Himne said quietly to himself, before turning to stare at the bodyguards furiously. "You have failed in your duties, shaming both yourselves and your families."

"Tear this ship apart if necessary, but find Major T'Riasu now!!" Himne barked, and all of the guards scurried off, save for the head bodyguard - who remained to protect Himne, who was now the senior Rihannusu diplomat aboard the Galaxy.

Now the shock set in for Himne, as he realised just how radically his life had been altered in a mere ten minutes. He sat down onto 8-Ball's bed, muttering to himself.

8-ball sat down next to him, holding his hand gently. She wanted to ask if Himne was okay, but didn't know exactly how to say it. How do you go about saying, 'Gee, your boss was murdered, everything good?" She settled for trying to be supportive silently, a mission that was blown to hell by the new Rihannusu guest.

The head bodyguard spoke up in a loud, authoritative voice. "With respect, Erredn, must we allow a Vulcan to hear our secrets?" He gestured towards 8-Ball with the utmost contempt. Initially he had ignored 8-Ball but, now that the critical news had been delivered, he was eager for their conversation to not be overhead - especially by the pointed ears of a Vulcan.

"I..." Himne said softly, staring into space - totally oblivious to the situation around him.

"Very well," the guard nodded, as if Himne had agreed. He looked at 8-Ball, jerking a thumb towards the door. "The Erredn has finished with you tonight, Vulcan whore, now we have urgent matters to discuss. Leave, immediately."

"Excuse ME?" 8-ball asked, and immediately got up. "First off, I'm Human, not Vulcan, second, I'm liberated, not a whore, and third, these are my fucking quarters, you Romulan-sonofabitch-jackass. If you need to take Prince Himne off to tell him secret, hush-hush matters, then you can drag your sorry ass out of my HOME and do it someplace else. In the meantime, try to be polite; it's not my fault you fucked up your job and got your Senator dead."

"How dare you-" the guard hissed, seething with rage. He took a step forward towards 8-Ball, but was blocked when Himne stood.

"Enough!" the attaché said sternly. "She is right - you are at fault here, no one else. Let us focus on the crisis at hand. Have you alerted the Rihannusu Senate?"

"Yes," the guard said. "We sent out an encrypted message an hour ago. Normally we would not dare communicate such information from a Starfleet ship, but we had no choice."

"Very well," Himne said. "Inform the captain, and..."

He trailed off as he saw the head bodyguard still staring at 8-Ball.

"I warned you," Himne said threateningly. "We don't have time for this. What is the problem?"

"Her," the guard growled, pointing an accusing finger as he noticed something. "Look, she even has a collar - like a pet. Is that what you keep her as, Erredn, a pet?"

Himne turned to 8-Ball, his plight temporarily forgotten, as he saw that detail for the first time - now that the guard had pointed it out. Why on Romulus was 8-Ball wearing a collar?

"Why are you wearing a collar, anyway, 8-Ball?" he asked, briefly forgetting about the senator.

8-ball glared at the bodyguard. Trust this jackass to focus Himne's attention on the stupid collar. . .why couldn't the murdering bad guy have killed Omar and this overly beefy creepy? "I don't really want to talk about it," 8-ball said shortly. "It's nothing to do with you, and no, Mr. Bodyguard Man, Himne does not keep me as a pet, or a trophy or a sex slave or anything else your perverted mind is thinking." She could tell Himne was not entirely satisfied with this response, and was probably going to continue to pester her until she gave in. 8-ball did not feel like giving in.

"You know what?" 8-ball said. "I don't have a lot of interest in your lousy post-assassiny politics anyway, and obviously you aren't going to get a lot of work done with me intruding in my own damn bedroom, so why don't I just get out of everyone's way, all right? I'll just take a nice long stroll while you use my bedroom as Secret Headquarters, so when you're done with all your fun little clandestine affairs, you give me a ring, okay?"

Himne simply nodded - he had more important matters on his mind. But he raised a cautioning finger at the bodyguard, who let 8-Ball leave without another word.

The attaché sniffed, and realised the head bodyguard - so ashamed with his failure - had obviously gotten himself drunk. He reeked of alcohol, and it probably explained why he had been so offensive to 8-Ball.

"Get out of my sight!" he shouted at the bodyguard, who shuffled out.

Himne was about to leave 8-Ball's quarters and head for his own, when he remembered the pain in his leg. Not wishing to travel two decks in his current state, the attaché sat down on the bed, thinking about everything - 8-Ball, the senator, his entire life.

Why had Major T'Riasu assassinated the senator? Why was 8-Ball wearing a bizarre collar? How had the major managed to do it? Had she killed him as soon as Himne and the guards had left, or did she seduce him first?

There were so many questions in his mind, and they all came to him in an entirely random order.

"Hnaev," he swore to himself.

"Over a Cup of Coffee"

2nd Lieutenant Rayne Sutea
Lieutenant (JG) Saul Bental

---

Rayne was playing with her cup as it tilted under her chin ever so slightly. She watched her reflection ripple with motion, her image seeming as unsettled as she was. Saul was on board, although it seemed as if he hadn't recognized her during their brief introduction on board the Galaxy. She hoped that wouldn't change, but it had certainly complicated her own situation.

The waiter approached her with a small menu, suitable for her breakfast. She ordered the same thing she ordered ever since she was a cadet, because consistency was her strongest point. Scrambled eggs, biscuit with gravy, and some mixed veggies. A tall glass of milk, and a short glass of orange juice.

All in addition to her coffee.

She tried to keep her mind focused on anything, work, her training, Branwen, anything... but somehow Saul Bental just kept popping up. He was practically standing right next to her, musing in her anxiety. It was... awkward, even to this day. She watched him as he sat on the table, swinging his legs over her cup. She knew that he could kick it, and nothing would happen - and yet, he was careful not to hit it.

"So you had a slip of mouth.", Saul said, swinging his legs back and forth. "Happens to the best of us. There was this one time when I joked about blue skins and why their skin was blue - and my cousin Janny was right behind me. Thank goodness she doesn't stab family members in the back. Well, she does but not with knives."

"I've heard this story before..." Rayne uttered, sipping her coffee as she tried to ignore the echo.

Saul stretched a little, and yawned. "I should be here in a minute. Don't worry, I'm really a nice guy when I'm not in a pub." And with that, he brought himself off the table, and vanished like he always did.

Rayne stared towards the empty chair for a moment, hating how he could just flash in and out of existence like that. "You had to touch me, didn't you?" She uttered under her breath.

"You seem deep in thought, Lieutenant." Saul Bental pulled a vacant seat next to her, and placed some hand-held computers and Isolinear chip containers on the table.

Rayne paused for a moment, trying to figure out whether this man before her was real or not. Part of her just wanted to reach out and poke him, just to make sure. If he was just an illusion, her fingers would slip right past him and into the chair behind him, but if he was real... she'd have a little bit of explaining to do. Something told her that he wasn't a figment of her imagination though, because her heart rate immediately began to climb.

"You seem deep in work, it seems..." Rayne replied after a moment, pretending to focus her attention on the chips and PADDS as to avoid his stare. It was him, definitely him.

"No - YOU are deep in work, or at least you're going to be after this coffee break.", Saul corrected her, somewhat cheerfully.

Rayne's eyes furrowed at his collar, noticing that it wasn't the black she had seen him wearing only the day before. That meant he was either in a command line now, which, as a lieutenant junior grade wasn't *entirely* unheard of, or he had entered either the helm or tactical department.

"You know if you were dissatisfied with your intel position, we always have a place for prior fleeters amongst the Marines." She jeered sarcastically.

"I'm not aggressive enough to be a marine.", Admitted Saul, his mind immediately bringing Bran's image forward. Is she more marine material than him? Probably so. The woman hid a very athletic body beneath that delicate appearance.

"I know, but what made you switch to the red?" Rayne asked.

"Actually, I've been transferred to the Tactical department... as the department head.", Saul added off-handedly, as though he was telling her about the whether or the elements composing a nearby nebula. He pouted slightly at her saying 'I know'. Did he really appear so weak?

Rayne nodded reluctantly, it seemed off for such a natural officer in the intel department to just go for another field like that. More importantly, she wondered how this was going to affect her. "Then who's going to get me up to speed with the Galaxy's intel operations?"

"I did promise to tie some loose ends in Intelligence as I begin training for my new role. You are one of those ends I'm afraid, and I'm going to work with you for the upcoming month, or at least until Cora decides who will replace me as the secondary unit leader."

"Doing double duty then, huh? Sure I won't be too much for you?" Rayne grinned, as the corner of her eye caught sight of the other Saul, looking at her with a certain degree of surprise. She grinned inwardly, figuring that he wasn't expecting her to be so... open.

"Lieutenant, I've been through more pressure. I think I can stand several hours a day next to a console on the bridge, and still have enough time and power to show you around. Besides, you seem like a nice enough person, I'm sure we're actually going to have fun with this."

"Oh I'm sure at that..."

"One moment.", Saul said. He walked up to the Replicator, not wanting to bother any of the waiters. "I'm getting coffee, like I promised last time. What do you want?", He asked her over his shoulder.

She raised her drink with a gracious smile, "Thanks but I already have mine." She said, still thinking it was strange for how he was drinking coffee, wondering what had changed over the last four years for him to do that.

Saul sat down, let his cup cool for a moment, then carefully sipped from it. After a long moment, he put the cup down on the table, and made a satisfied voice.

"I don't know why you said I don't like coffee, Lieutenant - it's actually quite good.", He told her, observing her through half-shut eyes.

Rayne started to blush slightly, feeling awkward on how to lure him away from her true motives about that 'incident'. "You just didn't seem the type who would like it," she replied, trying, but not straining to keep her eyes locked on his. Oh, but curiosity gets me so... she thought with a stammer. "When did you pick it up?"

"During my first assignment. It was part of something called 'Special Observation Program.". I had to pretend to be someone else, and as that someone I had to adopt some traits and habits. Some, like smoking or collecting illegal cybernetic implants, haven't remained. Coffee did."

Rayne grinned, "Hmm... sounds like a good trade off to me."

Saul continued to watch her intensely. Slowly, he replayed their first chat in his mind, in an attempt to locate exactly what was bugging him about the Marine Intel specialist. He thought he was nearing the heart of the matter. It was the way she said that he wasn't drinking coffee, with such conviction.

Also, she began to appear vaguely familiar. But she couldn't be familiar - Saul took pride of his excellent memory for faces and names. He definitely wouldn't forget such a beauty, had he met her before.

"So say.", He decided to try, taking a long sip from his cup, "Have you ever been to Utrecht III?"

Rayne cocked her head to the side, sipping out of her own drink. "What makes you ask that?" She asks, her voice even.

"Simple. You seem vaguely familiar, Lieutenant. I am cursed with an excellent memory for faces, so when I see someone who seems familiar and I can't recall their names... it troubles me. I was born on Utrecht III, so I figured it might be a good place to start."

"Or you could just ask me if we've met before." Rayne muttered under her breath. Her eyes touched the table for a moment, before drawing up towards his own cup of coffee, and hesitantly into his eyes. "I'm sure that in your years of traveling, you've met many people. After a while those faces can blur, so maybe you just think I'm familiar." She lied halfheartedly.

"A beautiful face like you, I would probably remember.", Saul replied swiftly. More and more, he got the feeling that she was hiding something.

The other Saul, on the other hand, peeked at her from behind a nearby archway. "Sue him for sexual harassment!", He called, then chuckled with amusement at her apparent discomfort.

Rayne cringed with the thought, glancing harshly towards her left, glaring into him as he stared back unresponsive. ~He's not real~ She thought, bringing her attention swiftly back to Saul, whose eyes seemed to have wandered to where she had been looking only moments ago. She had to change the conversation, and keep his attention.

"Why Lieutenant, are we here for an intelligence brief or did you just want to hit on me?" She said coyly, making sure that her words would be taken as a light joke rather than a blunt hint.

It was very rare that Saul took more than a moment to reply. When he did answer, he sounded hesitating.

"My... girlfriend wouldn't approve of me hitting on... other girls, I think...", He said sheepishly.

Rayne chuckled lightly, "Mr. Saul, from what I've heard... you have more than just one girl to worry about." She glanced at him, and his surprised _expression. "I am the Intel specialist, it's my job to know as much as I can."

Saul winced. "I'm afraid your intelligence is out of date, Lieutenant. And it's Saul, please don't Mister me."

That said, his tone became more business-like.

"Anyhow, here are the current reports on DS5 and the surrounding area. We're closely following Hydran activity in the region. There are various intelligence sources which can help us assess the Hydran's intentions and powers. The majority of them are passive Intelligence - sensor arrays and the likes, and data acquired from listening posts. The minority is from Humint resources - or should I say, Hydra-int resources. The latter are highly classified, so we are only relayed the process data, not the raw materials provided by the sources."

Saul swapped several PADDs, and cleared his throat. He seemed quite awkward. "Also, once we reach the station, there's the investigation related to the Leran Manev disaster which I mentioned earlier. I want to get you involved in both. Right now, I would like you to work with Nyoko, Seren, Paulo DiMillo and the relevant personnel in Tactical, in order to compile threats assessments - especially in light of DS5's current status. When we get to the other thing... I'll let you know, we'll probably need a marine."

"A marine you have," Rayne replied, glancing over her PADD.

"In that case, I will expect some preliminary reports about the threats assessment soon.", Saul concluded, and took one last sip from the coffee that got cold in the mean time.

One thing was still bothering him, though.

"Are you sure you never were on Utrecht III? Or... assigned to the Starfleet Intelligence Headquarters last year?"

Rayne smiled mildly, "Well if you've read my file, you'd know *exactly* where I was. But there's no obvious reason why I would lie to you, right?" She asked.

Saul rolled his eyes. And, much to Rayne's dismay, the Saul in front of her rolled his eyes in the exact same manner.

"I might just do that, Rayne, I might just do that. Figured it would be more polite to just ask."

Rayne visibly stiffened a bit with the mention of her real name. "It's Echani... I gave up that name a long time ago."

Saul seemed mildly surprise. "Why? It's a beautiful name."

Rayne looked uncomfortable and ashamed. She glared down at the table with the eyes of someone who was still trying to repent for her sins. "That name belonged to a different person," she began, her voice smaller than a whisper. "someone who made mistakes, got people hurt or killed."

Saul didn't blush; Intelligence officers don't blush. But he rapidly felt more and more uneasy near the marine Intelligence Specialist.

" I'm sorry to hear. I really should read your personal dossier.", He replied apologetically.

Reaching for the table, he stood up slowly. "Looking forward to those reports, then, and good luck.", He said as he came near her.

Then, without thinking, he momentarily patted her shoulder.

"I still think Rayne's a beautiful name, though.", He added.

Rayne tensed up when he patted her, almost forgetting that there was a half an inch of uniform between him and her. Before she could look up, he scurried away, but his last words still lingered with her like a haunting shadow. How long ago had Rayne disappeared, only to be replaced with a by-the-books marine too afraid of her own shadow to trust herself.

Rayne was never like that... but then again, she's all but dead now.

Picking up her own cup of coffee, now barely full, she took her last sip of it before setting it quietly onto the table. Her eyes glanced towards the PADD that Saul had given her, and she took it into her hands and braced it closely against her stomach. "Duty first..." she uttered lightly, before standing up and leaving the lounge herself.

"Inventory"

Lieutenant (JG) 8-ball Hunter

It's important to note that 8-ball never actually considered herself to be crazy.

A little eccentric, yes. Kind of odd, well, maybe. Illogical, well, hell YEAH! And maybe not the sanest person on the Galaxy (though really, who was? on this boat anyway). But she had never thought of herself as insane, either, or ready for the bouncy walls and the white jackets. Instead, she had considered herself to be unsane, and she thought the word fit her nicely.

Until lately, that was.

8-ball touched the side of the collar that now less than fashionably accented her neck. It might have helped with the crazies and the nausea, but it was definitely colder than it needed to be, and maybe just a touch tight. . .not something she could enjoy with Himne, in other words. But hanging out with Himne wasn't going to work either, right now. He was playing the new Rihannusu king after the last one got murdered, and being guarded by a bunch of jackasses who held on to very tired prejudices about Vulcans. 8-ball wasn't overly fond of Vulcans herself, but she was getting just a little sick of Romulan guys sneering down their noses at her; unfortunately, they were the least of her problems.

8-ball stopped walking in the middle of the corridor and looked around. The deck appeared to be deserted. . .probably everyone was waiting in line at Sickbay, waiting for their new control collar necklaces, that or being gruesomely murdered by some psychopath serial killer, whatever was more likely. 8-ball didn't really care either way; she was thankful for the crew's sudden vanishing act. She desperately needed some time alone to think, and since she had been kicked out of her own quarters so Himne and his gang of jackasses could plot counter-offensive-don't-lemme-get-killed measures, she didn't really have anywhere to go. There was Ten-Forward, of course, but that was a better place to drink than think, and the Holodecks were virtually all full. . .and anyway, all of those places were about distraction. This was really the only appropriate place for what she needed to do: in the middle of the corridor, on Deck **, about ten feet away from the Mess Hall, 8-ball needed to take stock of her life.

This was, of course, also the place where Azra had died, and that might have been kind of important too.

8-ball leaned against the wall and slid to a sitting position on the floor, lifting her hands from her collar to cradle her slowly aching head. She had only been released from Sickbay a few hours previously---the doctors hadn't been quite certain that the neural treatment had helped her the way it appeared to have helped the other telepaths. It took a good deal of convincing to explain that 8-ball was usually this weird, no matter what area of space they happened to be flying through.

When she was finally released, Artim, the kid-doc, told her that she should come back immediately if any of the symptoms returned, though 8-ball got the impression that after breaking his big ear experiment thingie, he was glad to wash his hands clean of her. 8-ball dutifully replied that she would come back if anything strange started happening, Starfleets Scout Honor, her hand to God, and she meant it. If she started trying to murder other crew members or their innocent stuffed teddy bears, 8-ball would march her ass pronto to Sickbay. She just declined to publicly acknowledge that her headache, while receding in levels of pain, had never really gone away, or the tiny, insignificant detail that she kept seeing someone out of the corner of her eye, some dark, small, menacing looking shape that would refuse to exist when she turned her head to really look at it. This might have been a bad idea, or a really, really bad idea, or maybe even a gigantic, catastrophic notion, but nonetheless, 8-ball did not want to go back to Sickbay. She had things she needed to work out, and some of them, maybe even most of them, had nothing to do with the current craziness.

8-ball lifted her head from her hands in time to see the dark shape on the corner of her vision. She instinctively turned but there was no one there, which wasn't exactly in the category of surprise. "Well," she murmured, "on the Pro Versus Con List of My Life, hallucinating dark, scary shapes definitely does not fall on the good side."

But not everything was on the bad. As much as she liked to complain, whine, and bitch whenever humanely possible, 8-ball had to admit to herself that she had the beginnings of a decent life here on the Galaxy. She was making a few friends---more boys than girls, but that was nothing new---and had actually participated in a couple of girly sleepover-lets-eat-brownies-and-get-smashed parties, the most exciting one being where she got to enjoy watching Branwen be drunk, not exactly an everyday occurence. And there was other stuff too: against all apparant possibility, 8-ball had managed to snag herself a steady boyfriend. . .well, okay, steady wasn't the best word to describe Himne and her relationship, but it was definitely better than the string of morons that had preceded him. And even weirder, 8-ball had actually been made Lieutenant. God knows who was responsible for that one, but 8-ball found herself, on occasion, being ever so slightly proud of the fact that she had achieved something in Starfleet, a feat she would have never have believed possible a year ago. Hell, she had even got an invitation to go see a fellow officer's cat! Okay, well, she invited herself, but still. Some things were looking pretty up.

On the other hand, some things were looking decidely down, and down, and further down into the depths of space hell. Lieutenant 8-ball Hunter had a unique and kind of neat ring to it; Chief Science Officer 8-ball Hunter was just utterly ludicrous, and everybody knew it. This whole department head thing was waaaay too much responsibility for her taste; now she was supposed to care if other people showed up on time and did their work and everything. Even worse, SHE was supposed to show up on time and do her work too, because she had to set an example. One of the many reasons 8-ball had never wanted to be a mother was because she didn't want to set an example at all; she was probably the only person on the ship who was secretly hoping that she would be demoted.

Then, of course, was the last space adventure, where 8-ball narrowly escaped death three or four times in a row, and in the meantime got to talk to some alien gods who had seemed pretty damned real to her. 8-ball had always considered herself to be strictly agnostic, mostly because she didn't really care enough to try to drive her faith in one direction or the other. But she had this utterly useless knowledge that their might be some kind of higher power or powers at work in her life, and ultimately, there wasn't shit she could do about it. 8-ball couldn't understand why believing in God made people feel better about their lives; basically, all it meant was that there was some big, high dude making all your decisions for you, and your life was pretty much all up to His whim. Not exactly encouraging in 8-ball's opinion.

"In fact," she said to herself, "that's probably how you became Chief Science Officer in the first place. Freaky, weird, God whim. That bastard."

And like she needed more stress besides divine career promotions and a crisis of spirituality, but there was also this new, glorious, unchecked anger-rage thing going on, transforming 8-ball from a slightly eccentric, unsane half-Vulcan into a maniacal, warrioress, teddy bear murderer on a rampage half-Vulcan. Not exactly what 8-ball would consider to be a positive change. She had been scaring the crap out of the new guy in Sciences, Cain (and considering his fragile disposition towards women in the first place, threatening to murder him viciously probably wasn't the best approach from boss to employee), she had gotten into some kind of primal fistfight with a Vulcan in Sickbay that she had decided was some form of evil vampire, and she had savagely decapitated her closest friend, her partner in crime, and her favorite punching bag: Eptgac.

This was all DEFINITELY on the Con Side of the list of her life.

And if this was all she was dealing with, if she only had boys and jobs and gods and sudden rage to take control of. . .well, she would still probably couldn't handle it, but she might have been doing a slightly better job. Instead, there were also flashbacks of a day that wouldn't erase, and a dead girl in her mind that just wouldn't disappear.

8-ball saw the shape move out of the corner of her eye, and this time managed to keep her head still, her eyes on the ground as though it would somehow help her solve all the problems she was trying to come to terms with. She figured that she had known who the shape was for awhile now; she just hadn't wanted to admit it, or confront it, or do anything with it. 8-ball had just hoped that the shade would disappear, but some hallucinations, like dreams, seem to happen for a reason. They aren't arbitrarily going to vanish just because life would be more convenient. And on the Galaxy, 8-ball had more or less given up on convenience--that sort of thing was impossible living your life on this ship.

"You might as well come out," 8-ball told the shape, her eyes still steady on the floor beneath her. "I know who you are."

The shape didn't move for a minute, just stayed in the bare corner of 8-ball's vision, and 8-ball knew if she turned to look, the shape would vanish as before. This time 8-ball kept her head still. What had been the point in coming here, if she couldn't face what she was meant to?

The shape moved closer to 8-ball, the intangible, shadowed quality giving way to solid looking feet and ankles and arms and a head. It stood in front of 8-ball, no longer an it but a she, and then sat down on the floor, her eyes staring at 8-ball's face. 8-ball lifted her eyes from the ground to look at the girl. Her face wasn't burned the way she had expected it to be, but clear and clean, as if nothing had ever happened. There was no smile on her face, though, and her eyes seemed blacker than they had been life. More than anything, 8-ball noticed the spots moving down the side of the child's face, they were as dark as the girl's new eyes, and stood out like an angry scar.

8-ball opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and shook her head. She had known who the shape was but knowing and seeing were two separate things, and the sight of a walking dead girl was pretty hard to know and believe, even on the Galaxy, where everything was backwards most of the time. 8-ball opened her mouth again and smiled wanly at the little dead girl. "Hello, Azra," she said.

"Hi," Azra replied. She sounded good for somebody who'd been dead a few months, no gravel in her voice, no vampire to vash your vindows. Her voice was quiet and matter-of-act; there was no accusation or screaming in her tone. 8-ball figured there was no need for theatrics anyway; unsane was officially out the window.

8-ball opened her mouth and again stopped. What do you say to someone who's gone? 'I love you' wasn't true; 'I miss you' wasn't important. 'I'm sorry' was inadequate, and 'How are you doing' tacky and wrong. Finally, 8-ball decided it was best to just get to the point. "What do you want?"

Azra raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'd like to be alive again, obviously," she said drily. "I'd like it a whole lot if you hadn't gone and killed me."

8-ball didn't bother denying this fact, or making excuses on what really happened. There didn't seem to be a lot of point, and besides, wasn't Azra pretty damn close to truth? Sometimes, 8-ball thought she was.

She touched the cold collar on her neck and let out a sigh that sounded regretful. Usually, when you hallucinate people, you're supposed to start screaming and running around, but 8-ball wasn't scared, only sad. That, more than anything, made 8-ball pretty sure that she was going nuts. "You're not really a part of this, are you," she said quietly.

"A part of what?"

"Whatever's going on with the ship right now. Whatever's happening to us to make us all wacky and freaked out. I'm definitely a little wacky and a little freaked out, but whatever's happening between us was happening before this started. You're not really a part of this. You're a part of something else."

Azra shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't see that it really matters. One way or another it all ends the same, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," 8-ball said. "With me in the looney bin."

Azra smiled. "We all get what we deserve." She looked closely at 8-ball, who had gone back to examing the floor again. "What do you think you deserve, 8-ball? What price should you be paying?"

8-ball closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. "I don't know, kid," she said softly. "I don't know what i deserve. I guess that's what this is all about, reflecting on my life, taking inventory, taking stock. I guess I'm trying to see where I'm going, what I've done. Do I deserve punishment for your death? Maybe. Hell, I don't know. Maybe you're my penance, or maybe I'm just being overdramatic, or maybe this will all go away when we leave this stupid space station. Maybe I deserve to be in Hell, or back on Vulcan, or dying a slow death. I don't know what I deserve, Azra. I only know what I want."

"And what do you want?"

8-ball opened her eyes and stared at the little girl. "I want you gone," she said. "I want you to leave me the fuck alone."

Azra's smile grew wider. She stood up and stepped closer to 8-ball. For a minute, as 8-ball looked up at the child towering over her, 8-ball thought that Azra was going to kill her. Maybe the Vulcan hadn't been the vampire after all. Maybe Azra was the real thing. 8-ball made no move to run away. ~Maybe this IS what I deserve~ she thought, and closed her eyes.

8-ball heard Azra lean forward and then felt the child's lips gently brush against her forehead. "I'm gone," Azra whispered as 8-ball opened her eyes.

"I'm gone," Azra whispered again, still smiling. "But I'll be back."

And then she disappeared.

"The Awakening"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

A few hours had gone by since Dr. Artim fitted a number of sickbay's occupants with the hormone-regulating collars he'd replicated from the specifications from the Al-Batani stored in the ship's database. The diminutive doctor was rightfully proud of himself for having recalled the device, as it did indeed have an effect -- at least on one of his patients.

Since arriving in sickbay nearly twelve hours earlier, Counselor Elessidil had shown no signs of stirring from the virtually coma-like state he'd fallen into. Several of the medical staff had come to the Betazoid's biobed looking less than confident that there was anything that could be done for him. Stretched to the limits of their abilities to address the needs of the ever-increasing number of crew that were coming through their doors, the stress was starting to have some effect on the dedicated but equally mortal doctors, nurses and medics, some of whom were themselves among those displaying some form of symptoms in response to no one quite knew what. The ones that had managed to look in on Elessidil remained just as baffled about what to do for his condition as they were for the variety of other symptoms they'd seen in the others. Some of the affected crew were anxious, while others were violent. Some exhibited relatively minor symptoms such as headaches, dizziness, or nausea. Like the patients themselves, the symptoms were numerous and varied, and the Galaxy's medical staff was understandably frustrated and perplexed as test after test revealed nothing that could be identified as a commonality, and that could, in turn, indicate a cause.

The unofficial commentary of several of the medical officers that monitored Elessidil's condition had been that his catatonic state was the most severe manifestation of the mysterious malady they'd seen yet. It was no surprise then that the first encouraging signs exhibited by the counselor had been met with positive, if cautious, reaction from his attendants. Prior to the application of Dr. Artim's collar device, the brainwave levels measured for the Betazoid had been nearly flatline; but close to only two hours after the treatment was initiated, the first indications of a response started to appear. From all indications, it was a very good sign. But appearances, even on a tricorder or medical monitor, could be very deceiving.

Deep within Elessidil's mind, something had indeed responded to the external stimulus -- something that no one observing his body had had any idea was there.

"It" had stirred.

At first, the response was minuscule, little more than a psychic "vibration" too small to be measured or identified, as if a tiny heart had started beating somewhere within the recesses of the host subconscious. Gradually the vibration had grown, developing into something more closely resembling standard brainwave activity, although the pattern was initially nothing like any of the brainwave patterns on file for the counselor. But eventually, the pattern had somehow morphed, adjusting itself until it was virtually identical to Elessidil's own. It was immediately heralded as progress, the first solid evidence of a positive affect from the treatment.

Awhile later, without warning and completely unobserved by anyone in the crowded, busy room, Elessidil's eyes suddenly flashed open. Whatever "It" was, its electro-chemically induced awakening was now complete, and It was ready to begin making full use of the host's mind, body and senses.

The initial flood of sensory input -- visual, aural, tactile, olfactory, telepathic -- was both disorienting and euphoric. A little more time was required to control these links to the external world; silently, It observed, listened, and felt, little by little learning to contextualize and interpret the resultant exponential increase in mental activity. Existence, consciousness, sensation, comprehension -- one stage at a time, It had come ever closer to self-identity and autonomy. But the flow of information had only been one-way to this point; it was now time to take the final step.

It knew enough to understand that this could only be achieved successfully by utilizing not only the body and abilities, but the knowledge, memories, and most cunningly, the personality, that were now at Its disposal.

"Water . . . nurse . . . could I have some water?"

In a clear voice that showed no sign of the symptoms and trauma that began nearly fifteen hours ago, Counselor Elessidil spoke.

"Storms over the USS Galaxy"

Commander Cass Henderson, Executive Officer
Strategic Operations Officer (Hydran Sector) Handler, Starfleet Intelligence

with... Rear Admiral Olivia Proctor,
CO: Deep Space Five

Commander Sheridan

****

Conference Room,
Deck 24,
USS Galaxy

Cass Henderson was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. Between his three jobs and the investigation into Ambassador Omar's death, he was entirely too busy to lead an away mission. So when the Hazard Team reported back that the station was clear, he'd essentially asked Captain M'Kantu to send somebody else to command the away teams. Of course, his peace had been short lived, and Admiral Proctor had sent a request that he meet with her.

He could only guess why, but after almost a month of having her onboard, he knew better than to ignore her requests. Lieutenant Tarin had sent no less than *six* messages to his mail buffer, complaining about the strain her outlandish requests were putting on Ops. He didn't envy the Betazoid/Bajoran hybrid her task.

Arriving at the conference room that Proctor had temporarily (he hoped) confiscated, he rang the chime and waited for her to admit him.

"Dammit, Admiral, you can't be serious!" Shortly before the chime rang, Commander Sheridan, Proctor's Chief of Staff and soon to be Xo of Deep Space 5, shook his right fist in the air. His mane of pure white hair was dishevelled.

"Commander Sheridan. You will not take that tone with me, or you'll find yourself commanding nothing but plasma tube or whatever unsuitable designation I can find for you." Livia swirled a snifter of wine, her eyes drawn to the rim of the glass so as to burn a dangerous glare at her XO. for the last few hours, he and other members of her staff have been overly irritable.

"Anything other than my taking command of this station is unimportant. I don't care about a dead Romulan. One less spy.

"Admiral Abrik won't take kindly to you overturning his orders, Ma'am. I refuse to allow this." His face contorted in suffering rage, his skin had flushed long ago.

"I don't give a damn about Abrik!" Proctor's pitch elevated.and she flew out of her seat. Standing a full head shorter than sheridan, she still glared him down, unperturbed. It was just then that the chime sounded off.

"Come!" She gave the Commander a withering glare, daring him to push his limits further.

"Ma'am," Cass said, stepping into the room. Judging by the guarded and tense body language of the dozen or so occupants of the room, as well as Commander Sheridan's flushed face, he knew he had just stepped into an argument. Surprising, he reflected, given that Proctor was prone to having sycophantic staffers. "You said you needed to see me."

"The Away Team allocations are showing Lt. Commander Janx assigned to lead the primary group onto the station. I don't see your name anywhere on the roster. Why is it the XO of the mighty starship Galaxy is not leading the single most important mission in this part of the system? You're the resident Strategic Operations coordinator for the Hydran Sector. You need to be there. Care to share the reasons with me?"

"Admiral, I'm not sure if you've been informed, but the Romulan Ambassador assigned here was murdered last night. Secutiy Advisor Abrik has tasked me with overseeing the investigation into his death," Cass explained. So that was it. Despite Ekoma Janx's many accomplishments, her assignment just wasn't as prestigous as the Executive Officer of the USS Galaxy. When would the woman learn that Starfleet service had *nothing* to do with decorum? He tried to continue, but she cut him off. "Ma'am, Lieutenant Commander Janx is more than qualified to lead the..."

"I'm well aware of the Romulan's demise. Even so, the simple fact is, he's dead. He isn't going anywhere, nor is the perpetrator, not that they're likely to complain. Abrik doesn't realize the true priorities out here. He'll wait."

"If I may be so blunt, ma'am, I think Admiral Abrik is probably taking into account the stir that Ambassador Kalavak is making with President Bacco," he replied. "Speaking as a strategist, we're still too weak to cut loose our alliance with the Star Empire. If Lieutenant Commander Janx commands the teams, I'll be available to lead the investigation, and everything will get done."

"Then I shall return the bluntness, Commander. The answer is no. You will command the away teams. This is not a negotiation." she darted her eyes to Commander Sheridan, who smarlty remained silent. The clench of his jaw did not escape her perception. A pair of other aides coughed mildly behind him. She could feel the tension, but cared little. she was ranking officer out here in the field.

"It bears pointing out that ignoring Abrik could be costly for both of us," he replied, though he knew that if there was trouble, she'd find a way to shift it on to him. "We should consult him first before making a rash decision and tumbling both of our careers into the gutter."

"Are you questioning my orders, Commander? That's a dangerous line to travel."

"I agree with Commander Henderson. Call Admiral Abrik." Sheridan couldn't bear witness to the charade any longer. The hairless temples bristled, small dabs of sweat appearing. "Commander Sheridan, that comment will dearly cost you. Hope you enjoy cold weather climates. I don't tolerate insolence." When seeing her aides sidel up behind Sheridan, she knew a line had been drawn in the sand. She needed to re-establish her authority - and now. "Fine. Call the uptight prude. Let's get this over with."

Cass offered Sheridan a nod of sympathy and appreciation as he crossed over to the wall terminal and punched in the required command code to put in a call to the Palais de la Concorde, where Jas Abrik's office was located. Cass was pleasantly surprised. He hadn't thought Sheridan to have that much of a backbone. Impressive. "It'll just be a moment."

Sheridan simmered underneath his facade of unheralded stoicism. He didn't need Henderson's pity, nor wanted it. He put up with more drivel from the spoiled socialite Admiral than that asskisser XO of the Galaxy. Proctor had risen from her coveted velour seat behind the elaccan desk that shimmered blue and lavender off its surface, pacing over to the Ullian's right ear. Forcing the man to meet her height by gesturing with a closed set of fingers back towards her, she whispered something in his ear, her own fingers that rested behind her back twisting a dark stone gem ring on her index finger. Sheridan stiffened.

After a few minutes worth of searching, an old Trill man, possessed of a gruff, practical disposition, appeared on the screen. This was retired Admiral Jas Abrik, Security Advisor to President Nanietta Bacco. [This had better be an update on the Romulan situation, Commander Henderson. I had to step out of a meeting with the councilor from Qualor, who is concerned about Romulan backlash, so you have exactly five minutes. Starting when I got here.]

"Of course, sir," Cass nodded briskly. He knew that Abrik would react poorly to what he was about to say. Hopefully the brunt of his ire would fall on Admiral Proctor. "We've uncovered nothing further on the Omar case, though several interviews have been conducted. Admiral Proctor would like to suspend the investigation while we reclaim Deep Space Five. We discussed the matter and decided that it would be best to consult you before proceeding."

Abrik glared at him incredulously, wondering if he was serious. [You're kidding me, right? As soon as word leaks out, Ambassador Kalavak is going to be ready to go to war here, at the instructions of Proconsul Omar. And with that all of the work of the past three years since Shinzon will go down the head. You want to do what? Olivia, I trust you have a good reason for this?]

Having leaned back in the self-adjusting seat that contoured itself fairly easily to her box-like figure, the un-imposing features of Admiral Proctor twisted themselves into shapes only a mother could love. Her lips curled at the posturing of Cassius Henderson in assuming her wants, and it provided her no route of rebuttal with Abrik on the comm. "What better reason could there be but the only outpost on the border of Romulan and Hydran territory defenseless?" Her voice tipped an octave in impatience. "one starship and a computer core full of intelligence is all the Hydrans need to take advantage Admiral. The burr in Kalavak's trousers will just have to wait until the situation has been assessed and if there is a danger to both out governments and territories. We all know how short on military strength the Star empire is. do they really want to lose more ground to those thickskins?"

"All due respect, ma'am," Cass replied, "... but Deep Space Four is equally close to both empires. And I think that the issue is not whether or not we recover the starbase, but whether I'm *absolutely* required to lead the away teams when there are other, equally qualified officers present."

"Oh, how I yearn for the days..." 'Livia tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before snapping her nondescript eyes back to the viewscreen, "when officers didn't question their superiors. I would have you thrown in the brig, but I need your expertise on the station. If this dead Romulan is so important, have someone else do the administrative work. I won't have the third-highest ranking officer in the area pushing paper and playing detective. It's an insult to the Security teams on board."

[Olivia, when a shipboard investigation of this kind of import is conducted, it isn't solely Security's responsibility,] Abrik started to reply, taking what appeared to be the side of the XO. However, Cass' relief was short lived, as Abrik's image started to break up. [In fact, it requires a com...]

Jas Abrik was cut off mid sentence as his image simply blinked out.

Cass frowned. "Henderson to bridge," he said, ignoring Proctor for the moment. If he couldn't get Abrik back, his arguement was going to be significantly harder to manage.

[Bridge here, sir,] replied one of the relief officers.

"We just lost a long range call to Starfleet Command. What's going on up there, Lieutenant?" Cass inquired.

[It's an ion storm, sir,] the officer reported. [It came out of the Typhon Expanse. We've been monitoring it's progress most of the week. Unfortunately, it's about to reach this system, so we've lost all long range communications. We're going to see more equipment issues when it does arrive in an hour. It should pass over the station itself.]

Cassius frowned. If it had just been a glitch, he could have stalled long enough to get Abrik back. And ion storm, on the other hand, would leave them out of contact for several days, meaning that Admiral Proctor was now the ultimate authority in the region. It was time to choose his battles, he decided, and turned to face the admiral. She looked smug. "Admiral Proctor, what course do you wish us to take?"

"You know the answer to that, Commander. Or do we need to start addressing you as Lieutenant?" She gently lifted her now still flute of wine to her lips, swirling it under her nostrils for bouquet effect. Inhaling deeply, oblivious to the fact she wanted immediate response to her orders, she made the ships XO wait. But not too long. She had better things to do. "Go get my station back and get some hard evidence on what happened here." With that, she waved him off with her other hand. "You're dismissed."

"Consider it done, ma'am," he said, feigning patience. Spinning on his heel with military precision, he withdrew from the room. It was madness, simply put, to do what he was about to do, but... He didn't have a choice.

The investigation would be suspended, and he would command the away teams.

"Look closer"

2nd Lt Jebidah Baile.
Recon Specialist Furies Detachment

Dr Ethan Westlake
Doctor of sorts. NPC

Sickbay, USS GALAXY

The thing with it was that it couldn't work, and yet it did. The simplicity of it all was in one word astounding, but it went against everything he had learned at med school.

Westlake looked at the images on the screen, once more trying to make heads or tails out of it. He sighed. Ophthalmology wasn't really his field of specialty. He wasn't even sure they had a true Opthalmologist onboard the ship and even if they did he wasn't sure that would have been the answer. Per definition it wasn't an eye disease he was dealing with.

So far he had hit just every dead end there was. He had tried medical databases, xenology, research, zoology but to no avail. Sure enough, the eyes that had been implanted into Lt Baile did very much remind him of certain predators, both from Earth and other places.

And yet not. He sighed again. Lt Commander Rabb would want and need a report on it. Security would no doubt want to be notified about it. Thankfully that would be Rabb's job. He rubbed his arm where the Marine had grabbed him. A rather ugly bruise had started forming. Ah well, nothing a little modern medical science wouldn'tbe able to fix.

From: Dr Ethan Westlake To: Lt Cmdr Rabb Subject: Preliminary analysis.

It appears we have a mystery on our hands, Commander. I must admit I am a bit perplexed as to the origin of the eyereplacement done on the patient.

The anterior chamber is basically the same as the human eye, although the first analysis points to the aqueous holds some lightenhancing ability.

The posterior chamber is slightly elongated by a few millimeters compared to the normal humna eye. If this shape holds any function is uncertain at this point.

The patient is extremely sensitive to light and it appears that overexposure is a source of great pain until the eye contracts the pupil enough. And speaking of the pupil. This is where it gets a bit strange. The iris and the pupil seems to be working independently of one another. The cornea is, to my surprise, not transparent. Well, it is, but not the way it is on a normal eye. The cornea is highly lightsensitive and seems to trigger the pupil rather than the iris controlling it as in normal cases.

The iris pupil much larger than the its human counterpart and seems to be fully expanded per default, thus being more senstitive to light than the human eye. I haven't been able to decide just how much more sensitive, but my first reaction is - a lot.

Another thing that caught my interest is the fact the iris and the pupil can't close as much as the human eye. Whatever or whoever the previous owner was, it lived in dark places. Very dark places. I haven't been able to examine this function closely as the patient is not very cooperative and in my opinion prone to violence if forced to be examined.

But the real winner is inside the eyeball itself. The vitreous fluid seems to be able to enhance any light entering the eye, no matter how faint. It also appears to be directly tied into the retinas light-sensitive properties. It also seems that the impulse sent to the optic nerve is directly in proportion to the amount of light. Less light - normal impulse. Strong light - migraine.

The strangest thing though has to be the macula. It rests in the center of the elongated area. If I ever wanted to redesign the human macula, then this is how I would do it. Without a much closer examination there's really no telling how much sharper the vision is, but there's no doubt in my mind. It's a lot sharper than yours or mine.

This brings me to the surgery itself. It is not well done at all. The grafting is the eqivalent of doing brainsurgery with a sledgehammer. I also believe nervegrafting is the source of the pain that the patient seems to experience. There's indications of some minor swelling and inflammation. However, I administered the standard dosis of antibiotics which triggered a painful reaction in the patient. I checked his records before administrating it and there was no such note.

The patient merely said there is a lot of things his medical records doesn't say. Ive ordered the patient to remain in sickbay for the time being and taken him off active duty. Like all marines he didn't take it too well when not being allowed to play with guns.

My recommendations for this patient is a close examination and possibly detention. The patient shows signs of being prone to violent reactions when agitated and it is my belief that the patient would not hesitate to kill if threatened. I will place two security officers to make sure he stays put.

Westlake out.

End report.

Ethan rubbed his eyes. Having a sickbay full of patients while a large portion of the qualified medical crew had been drafted for an awaymission was far from an ideal situation. "No rest for the wicked. Or doctors."

Picking up the tricorder he headed over to the bunk where Lt Baile was resting, although Westlake had the feeling the marine was doing anything but resting. "So, Lieutenant. How are you feeling?"

"Peachy."

What was it with some people? Westlake sighed mentally and called up Baile's medical records on the display next to the biobed. He read through it once more and was somewhat astounded how little information the file really held. Starfleet and their secrets. How was he supposed to help patients if he didn't have the necessary information? "Anything in your medical history I should be aware of, Lieutenant?"

"I'm allergic to questions."

"How wonderful, Lieutenant. Why not save the attitude for someone that actually might get intimidated by it? I've seen your kind a hundred times, Lieutenant and while you are all charming and wonderful I really don't have the time to stand around and pull the answers out of your arse." Westlake replied in sarcastically.

"Seen my kind, doc?" Baile chuckled amused. "I'm one of a kind.."

"I'm sure you are.. so what will it take to see your file?"

Baile fell silent for a second, then shook his head. "You don't want to see it, Doc.. not if you value your sleep."

"Is that a threat, Lieutenant?"

"A warning. I don't threaten people."

"Really? And the wrapping your arm around my throat earlier? Or was that just a friendly gesture?" Westlake asked sarcastically.

"Get over it, doc. I wasn't trying to kill you. My body reacted to how its been trained." Baile shrugged slightly, getting more and more bored with the doctor and his questions.

"Wasn't trying to kill me? My mistake then. Next time someone wraps an arm around my throat and tries to flatten my windpipe I'll just remind myself its all fun and games."

Baile sighed and swung his legs over the side of the biobed and sat up. Carefully he opened his eyes. It felt like someone flashed a light in his eyes, the light stabbing him in the brain. He took a deep breath and pushed the pain aside. "Like I said doc. Get over it. If I had wanted to kill you I would have. Don't kid yourself into thinking you could go par with me just because you shot me full of tranqs."

Westlake looked at the Lieutenant. "We can stand here all day and trade insults. Just tell me what I need to gain access to your medical files. Either me or Commander Rabb."

That made Baile chuckle again.

"Care to share the joke?"

"You just don't get it, do you Doc?"

"Please, enlighten me."

"Just leave it, Doc. Nothing good will come out of it."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

Baile shook his head. "Look Doc.. you need a securityclearence so high you'll have to kill yourself just for knowing it exists. The only one allowed to look at it is God and he's not sleeping so well after having read it."

Westlake sighed. This wasn't working. Maybe if he tried another approach.

Baile could see Westlake's mind at work. Why the hell couldn't some people just drop it? "Doc.. leave it. There are things in the dark you don't want looking your way. You might have taken me off active duty, but this is a fight you can't win, doc.. step up into the ring and you will loose."

The aged doctor opened his eyes to respond to Baile's word, but stopped. It wasn't so much as what the Lieutenant had said but how he had said it. Something in the Lieutenant's voice.

Baile leaned closer to Westlake, a small but cruel grin forming on his lips. "That's it doc... " he whispered. "You can feel it, can't you? That undefined feeling of fear.. you try to ignore it, but its there. That's me, doc.. I'm right there in the darkness, waiting for you to walk into it.. so keep looking, doc.. keep looking and find the things in the darkness."

Westlake swallowed hard, trying to compose himself. "I'll come check on you later."

The Marine lay back down on the biobed and grinned. "Better get yourself those drinks a bit earlier today, Twinkletoes.."

Baile grinned to himself when he saw Westlake talk to two securityofficers and the trio looked right back at him. "Fleeters.. " the Marine chuckled and closed his eyes, pushing aside the thunder in his mind. Too damn easy.

"The Structure, Part 1"
By:

Commander James Corgan (Security)
MCPO Madden Jayce (Master Chief)
Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea (Engineering)
Lt. Commander Micaelah Rabb (Medical)
Major Corran Rex (Vanguard)
Lieutenant jg Claire Barnes (Security)
Lieutenant jg T'lan
Ensign Marcus Slayton (Engineering)

Location: DS5, Docking Bay 7

The route to docking bay 7 gave James his first exposure to the carnage below.

He encountered a half dozen of DS5's dead as he walked to the docking bay. Five security officers, much like himself, were splayed among a corridor, phasered, them butchered to death. Phaser fire scorched the walls, then their bodies.

~"Who could commit such savagery?"~ James thought to himself. A veteran of wars himself, he had seen a lot of brutality, and was even insensitive to some of it. But to see the carnage in the halls was... disconcerting. ~"And we cleared people to come on, even when we don't have all the answers? I'm starting to regret this..."~

Especially with his cohort, Lieutenant jg T'lan, under the strain of some unknown spell. James had to admire the Vulcan's stubbornness. She was one of the few who knew his experiences, and had first hand experience. Even now he doubted whether or not the Vulcan female could finish the mission. The front she gave was a strong one. James had to admire her courage (and ponder if Vulcans thought courage to be illogical and emotional, and therefore consider resolve as more apt).

He and T'lan were the first to arrive at docking bay 7. A simple corridor, sealed by a multitude of airlocks, led to the unknown structure. The airlocks were welded tight by plasma torches, their lines like old incision scars along the edges. Through their portholes he could see a deep tunnel drilled into dark brown rock. It led downwards, darkness obscuring what laid below.

"Engineers... get us in there." Corgan ordered.

Anna stepped through the group with a pack on her back and a torch in her hand. "Give me three seconds.." She said, confidently as she moved toward the airlock. "Makes me almost wish I had a good trusty phaser rifle and just melt the damn thing." She said then began to cut through the airlock. "Before you ask. I need to cut through this door. So I can access the controls inside the next section." Anna said as she continued to work. It took about five minutes but soon the locks where cut and she sat her back down and grabbed some grip pads and began to open the airlock with little help.

Once they were through. She picked up her pack once more and moved toward the airlocks. Checking the controls with a tricorder she shook her head. "They aren't going to respond to manual open. We are going to have to cut some doors. I'd suggest we just right through the bulkheads." Anna said, looking toward Corgan.

"Do what you have to..." Corgan sighed, "But is there any way we can close it up again if we have to? They sealed it for a reason. If and when we find out that we shouldn't have tampered with it, I want to be able to seal it up again."

Claire stepped up, "Sir, with all due respect, we have enough fire-power to handle anything in there. And it will take time to cut through that with a torch."

"Don't be overconfident, Barnes." Major Rex said quietly.

Opening her pack, Claire pulled out a shaped charge and held it up, "This thing will cut through five meters of duranium like a hot knife going through butter in a brief second."

Corgan nodded, "Normally, I'd agree with you. But not everything can be killed by a phaser rifle or a meter's length of folded and sharpened iron. Carry on, Lieutenant. Whatever it is... we'll go say hello."

"Commander," Anna said stepped forward thinking. "There might be a way of 'sealing' the opening once we are through. Once I cut the opening. Lt. Barnes can set up a portable force field. Set to a code only we would know." Anna said, as she turned and began to cut a doorway through the bulkhead.

Marcus watched Anna work for a few seconds to see if she would need him to help her with the door but then he moved to keep an eye out down the corridor where they just came to help keep an eye out for whatever caused the massacre on the station.

Marcus reached up on his battle rifle with his free hand and brought the setting up to heavy stun just in case that he was ordered to stun anyone and make sure that they stayed down. After doing this, Marcus went back to keeping an eye on the corridor.

The Doctor's hands were tinged in the various colors of blood that represented the various forms of life that had lived - and died - on DS5. Her normal jovial expression was somewhat faded partly due to the carnage and partly due to the nervous twitchiness that had her partly convinced that someone was following her. Paranoia was not her normal suit and she forced the smile upon her face despite the lack of emotion behind it.

Mike could feel Selok, her bondmate, reaching out to her through their bond as if he felt something were amiss. It was strange, she mused as she silently told him that she was 'fine,' that she felt this way. What could be going on? Quietly, she pulled out her medical tricorder and performed a quick scan of the others around her. Maybe someone was mentally 'leaking' - or maybe she really was paranoid.

Corran had been silent so far, on the trip down. Ever since he, Barnes, and Slayton had left the reactor room to rendezvous with Corgan, Rabb, T'Lan, and Brianna, he believed - the dual feelings of deja vu and an omnipresent sense of dread had grown ever more present in his mind. It had amplified when he'd briefly separated from Barnes and Slaton, and located Chief Jayce.

He was also hearing voices in his head again. Granted, this wasn't an unusual experience for him - at least, not up until a year ago. But it was certainly something that the Trill didn't consider to be a good sign.

~You're crackin up, kid. We've seen this a hundred times - it's time to cut your losses and go back to the Galaxy ~ Vorrin cancelled him from inside his mind.

Steadfastly, Corran ignored the voice of his former host, pretending like hell that he hadn't heard it. He was beginning to loose his sense of self, something he prized a great deal since he'd managed to reconstitute himself into a single , joined mind. He could feel the separation between him and Rex taking place once more, the budding voices of his past hosts starting to creep in at the edge of his consciousness.

What was really terrifying was that those voices didn't seem to be alone anymore.

His eyes caught Micaelah Rabb's red hair swishing to one side as she scanned everyone with her medical tricorder. She'd been Tara's - his ex's friend - and Corran had known her when he'd served aboard the Arizona before coming aboard the Galaxy to command Vanguard Squadron. He debated telling her that his T'Rex's was manifesting itself again, but then, he'd be sent back to the ship, and he wouldn't have the answers he felt he so desperately needed.

Whatever had happened here at Deep Space Five.. whatever was starting to happen, even now, he'd been through before. He didn't remember it, and that concerned Corran all the more.

When the away team approached the fragment in Docking Bay seven, it was through the Trill's brain had been struck by a lighting bolt.

A thousand voices all sounding in his mind, and he drew his sidearm from his side.

~Come with us!~

~Free Us!~

~We know this one. He is of the Joined. ~

~Impossible. The Joined would have died out by now. Their kind is too weak to have survived all this time!~

And on, and on, a litany of complaints, pleas, observances and suggestions, all different, and none of them kind.

It was more than any one mind could reasonably be expected to bear.

"SHUT UP!" Corran shouted, whirling about with his phaser, speaking to the voices no one else could hear. "You don't know me, so shut up, or so help me I'll SHUT you up!" his voice shattering the team's silence. He looked a madman to the rest of them, whirling about, pointing his phaser at nothings.

Anna turned and looked toward Corran and wondered what was going on. "Major!" Brianna said.

"SIR!" T'lan screamed at the party, dropping her rifle to clutch her head, feeling as if a thin probe needed into her sinus cavity, "Sir! I don't understand. There is something hostile around Major Rex."

"Jesus Christ!" Corgan dashed to the major, "What the hell is going on, flyboy? Talk to me!"

Corran offered no answer, and though he looked directly at Corgan, the Security officer could see that the Trill wasn't seeing him at all.

Mike resisted the urge to grab her head and scream. A rush of sound echoed in her skull - sound that only she and, through her Selok, could hear. Her bondmate's anguish reverberated through their bond and she quickly shook her head as she forced herself to ignore the voices. There was work to be done. The doctor's blue eyes reflected her pain, but they were otherwise clear as she shunted the psychic noise to another part of her brain where she could ignore it. It would not last for long, but it would be enough for her to take care of Corran.

Marcus, hearing the noise behind him, spun around on his right heel very quickly and brought the BR-55 to bear but he quickly lowered the rifle to port arms as he watched the head of the Vanguard Squadron suddenly start to act very strange but then he started to look around to see if anything was about to come out of the wood work as it was.

Rex was still raving, speaking now in a language that wasn't apparently in the database of the universe translator.

Claire growled, wondering how bad she would get reprimanded, but shrugged. She had her rifle up and shifting to stun moments before the beam shot out, enveloping the major who dropped like a sack of potatoes. "Stay down, or I swear you will be sleeping for weeks."

Mike hurried to the prone officer's side, brushing back her red hair with a muttered curse as it dangled in front of her eyes. The tricorder was in her hands and scanning while the fingers of her free hand checked his pulse. She knew that Corran carried a serum with him that helped suppress his T'Rex's Syndrome; however, could that help him now?

The sound in her mind had reduced to a strange buzzing noise that, while not dangerous, was distracting. The fiery haired woman's customary smile faltered as she read through the readings on the tricorder. "Hmmm, this is interestin'. His neurological scan's off kilter. Ah'm not quite sure what happened to cause 'im to go bonkers on us, but ah think this maght help suppress the neurotransmitter." She fished the serum out of Corran's jacket and pressed the hypo against his neck.

"Only way to be sure is to wake him up. Ya'll maght want to step back 'cept for you," she aimed the last comment at Claire who still seemed a little twitchy around the trigger.

"Stand your weapon down, Lieutenant." Anna said, as she tried to sort out what was going on all the while trying to keep watch in case something, or someone tried something.

Marcus turned to look at Anna for a second with a raised eyebrow but he kept an eye out for anything unusual that may appear.

Mike pulled another hypo from her doctor's case and slid a cartridge into it. She pressed this one against Corran's neck and waited.

Rex blinked his eyes as he came back to consciousness. His body moved strangely, as through whoever was in charge hadn't had experience moving a body around in quiet some time.

"Take it easy," Mike drawled, keeping a palm on his chest, "You've had a bit of an adventure thar, Corran."

"There is no Corran." the Trill replied in a strange voice, deeper - and immeasurably older - than his usual one. "Only Rex."

Over to the side, Claire went to her gun again, ready to send the major into Sleepyland once again, but she did not that a few of the others gave her a glaring look. She may have jumped the gun but at least no others got hurt.

"Easy." James slowly lowered Claire's gun to aim at the ground, "He doesn't look like a threat now. Just keep your eye on him."

"Only Rex, huh? If there's no Corran, jus' whut happened?" Rabb asked him.

Rex eyed the Doctor speculatively, as if trying to determine how much she could understand. "Corran is.. asleep. You have silences the voices, but he must recover." As he began to move, an observer would have been struck by the awkwardness of his motions. He looked for all the world like a marionette being operated by an inexperienced puppeteer.

"Ah'm goin' to send you back to the Galaxy," Mike declared, reaching for her communicator, "We've got better facilities to try and git you the help you need."

"No, Doctor." he replied, looking at the fragment. "I will remain. I can control our body for now, I simply have to .. .get used to it. It's been a long time since I've had to do this."

"Now wait a sec," Rabb protested, "You jus' had a major shock to your system. Ah can't allow you to risk yourself further; it'd go against all mah training!"

"We must enter the structure." came the reply. "If I am correct, you will need the knowledge in my memories more than any of us know."

She muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like 'damn stubborn flyboys' in a heavy Texan accent. "Well, shucks, if ya think you won't keel over in fahve minutes 'cause you've lost control who'm ah to object? Ah'm jus' the bloody Doctor." The sarcasm was heavy in her words.

"Trust me, Doctor." he replied simply as he experimentally flexed his fingers.

Mike folded her arms in front of her and eyed him speculatively, "An' who's the one with the medical doctorate in the room, now? Ah don't lahk it at all."

"It's his choice." James stood up for Corran, "Let him be."

"Be it on yer head, then," Mike told him, telegraphing to the world that she wasn't pleased about this development.

O'Shea flipped the tricorder cover shut with a quiet sigh. Nothing.

"Clear!" Anna said, as she stepped back and used her frame to give hulk a shove and the opening she cut gave way into another corridor. "Be careful, the edges might still be hot." Lt. Commander O'Shea said as she moved inside the next corridor. "Which direction you want to go?" Anna asked, getting ready in case she needed to cut another opening.

James looked down sourly at the drilled rock tunnel, "Down. All the way down. Let's move out people! Lieutenant T'lan, Watch the rear. I'll take point."

"Aye sir." T'lan saluted, trundling all too eagerly to the rearguard position.

"The Structure, Part 2"

By:
Commander James Corgan (Security)
MCPO Madden Jayce (Master Chief)
Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea (Engineering)
Lt. Commander Micaelah Rabb (Medical)
Major Corran Rex (Vanguard)
Lieutenant jg Claire Barnes (Security)
Lieutenant jg T'lan
Ensign Marcus Slayton (Engineering)

Location: Unknown Structure, DS5

His rifle aimed and panning the rock corridor all through their trip, James kept the away team at a steady pace, seeing every erring shadow and scrape of rock as a potential target. His nerves were more frayed as he went deeper, the tunnel's darkness giving way to their lights, the true darkness that dogged them never going away.

Hearing the conversation, Anna looked at Corgan. "I'm not getting anything on Engineering tricorder beyond this bulkhead." She said, then looked back down and frowned. "Wait.." She said. "Faint.. energy signature... unknown source and pattern." She said walking closer.

Corgan growled. What was beyond that door was now causing trouble, and he wanted it gone. "We'll knock on the door. And if they don't answer, we'll have to kick it in. Major, Lieutenant T'lan... last chance. I think you both should leave."

T'lan said, under pressure. "No sir, I cannot. We Vulcans know a great deal about psychic phenomenon. You will need me."

"I will remain." Rex replied.

James shrugged, ~"Stubborn jackasses."~ "Fine. Against my better judgment you can all come in."

"Mahn, too," Rabb muttered, shooting a glare at Rex's back. Quietly, she moved so that she was next to him smiling innocently when she saw his questioning glance. He might not want to go back to the Galaxy because of whatever knowledge he had, but he was going to find himself with his very own 5'2" red headed Doctor-slash-nursemaid no matter what his objections might be.

He noted the Doctor's attentions, of course - and they did not surprise him. Three of his past hosts - although Corran only knew of one - had been Doctors. Back then, Rex wouldn't have behaved any differently than Rabb.

Anna strapped her engineering pack on her back. Flipped open her tricorder and then pulled her hand phaser. "Tunnel goes deep.. can't get a detailed scan. It looks safe." Anna said, as she began to walk down. "Whoa.. there is a incline." She said, feeling it under her. Reaching to her wrist she flipped on her light." She said then boosted tricorder power. "I'm ready a fast network of man made passages. It's a bloody maze... trying to plot a clear path." She said still walking down.

"I"ve... I've got it!" She said, as she began to walk faster.

Marcus waited for the others to go on ahead while he brought up the rear, his battle rifle at the ready in case anyone or thing suddenly appeared behind him. But something was starting to nag at him, like there was something wrong with this place. But he just shrugged it off, chalking it up to bad memories of the war.

The Major eyed the hollowed out tunnel, running his hands experimentally over the familiar feel of the rock. It was a porous asteroid, but a very dense one. The rarity of such a rock only served to heighten his suspicions.

"I've got a large chamber just up ahead." Anna said, still walking. Enter the large cavern, chamber, they had passed a multitude of statues of various incarnations shattered and whole, amidst the maze of passages. Anna stopped only long enough to take a few tricorder pictures. Mainly cause some of the more beastly looking statues looked like family members. Now as she first came into the cavern, she stood there looking at the large man created cavern. As she walked on into the room her boots crumbled some broken mosaics on the floor. Her attention was drawn to the mosaics on the wall, in a array of colors. Titling her head, upward, she looked at a single glowing shard embedded into a table hanging from the ceiling.

Anna just starred in awe. "I think that it's appropriate to say... bloody hell.." She said looking around the large man made chamber.

"Ah'd jus' go with 'daaaang,'" Mike drawled, eyeing the room with an equally awed expression.

"I tend to prefer 'holy sh*t'." James looked admiringly at a room dead ahead, then at the glowing shard of... crystal was what James guessed. Then he surveyed the next room.

If he was an archeologist, this would be a treasure trove in so many ways, but as a security officer, found them all to be just plain awe inspiring.

The room was rhomboid in shape, and not carved from the rock, but shaped within it, the floor being so smooth it shined like glass. Along the walls, in arch lined niches spaced equally and divided in threes along each wall, was a golden statue of a beautiful woman. She possessed golden, diamond-like scales, and ridges along her collarbone, breastbone, neck and face. Her hair, James vividly imagined as a lustrous black if not for the statue's golden hue, cascaded around her shoulders and breasts like a wrapped around cloak.

In the center of the room was a male statue, muscular and literally chiseled from stone, held gems faceted to key parts. Black obsidians and topaz diamonds for eyes, fire red rubies on its thin, pursing lips, dark crystals to form the voids of the nostrils, and an exquisitely crafted green gem, larger than all the rest, fixed on the statue's forehead, its branches (what craftsmanship!) snaking and crackling throughout the statue's forehead.

"My god!" James exclaimed, "It looks like a bloody spoonhea... Cardassian."

"More lahk somethin' strayt outta either Terran Indian or Norse mythology," Mike commented, eying the statue with the eyes of an archaeologist. Her minor had been in that field, not to mention the fact that her mother was an archaeologist. However, despite those facts, she was rather proud of herself in that her voice still sounded steady to her ears despite the sounds that continued to echo in her skull.

Marcus kept his battle rifle at a ready position but even his attention was drawn to the general outline of the cavern. "Hmm, looks like somekind of worship area.." he said in general as he looked around the room.

The statue stood on a triangular altar base half James' height, flanked

by three sets of stairs, and centered with an pedestal carved with images of strange scaled, multiheaded creatures. On the pedestal sat a mask, ancient and gold, shining as if freshly forged under alien fires, ringed by mounds of multicolored, melted wax.

"There is another room up ahead." James checked his security tricorder's mapfinder, "There's mineral deposits everywhere. Gold, latinum, gemstones...f**king hell... hello retirement." James nervously jested, then said. "I'm checking it out. Feel free to come with me."

He took one cautious look into the 'treasure room', and found himself transfixed by another kind of wonderment.

Beauty and horror came together for the attack, locking James into position and leaving him to make sense of what he was seeing. He was in an elliptical shaped room with a red stoned, rhomboid shaped slab in the center. The ceiling was awe encompassing expanse that rose almost infinitely into the sky, but was just an illusion on closer look, a fake starscape with smattering of yellow lights on a dark blue skyscape, all painted into smoothed rock. Two of the stars were larger than most, akin to a binary star system on a planet's night sky, glowed with a baleful, angry light.

The walls held paintings of red, black and green, in a myriad of shades

and tones, blended into a miasma of chaos. The chaos was divided into three registers, with symbols of intersecting rhomboids and trapezoids etched inside.

On the mural were dozens of figures, lone order beside so much chaos, and so well detailed as to rival Earth's renaissance artists. They depicted mythological battle scenes. Chimeras, serpents with huge fangs and coiled bodies, men and beasts all in battle. The end of the mural, on the far side of the room, held the image of a large golden disk. Under that disk was a large and highly detailed image of a half woman/ half snake being, her eyes a glowing, crimson red, her scales a shining emerald green. She held the presence of cold, brutal evil. The stars seemed to attack the fields as bright arrows, sending torrents of earth and fire out with each impact. The armies of the mural seemed to clash and fight together in an endless, futile campaign, moving as if the painting became alive, but doomed to fight for all eternity in their frozen hell.

The woman/snake image was carved with scrolls of twisting ivory around equally integrated stone columns. This snake woman was definitely of some significance.

The remains of worship still remained. Candelabras of gold held frozen pools of wax, caught dribbling into stalactites. What James guessed as offerings, in the form of dark wooden chests with platinum inlays, rich green Jevonite, jewels and jewelry of strange design and various coins, medallions, rods, and bricks of gold pressed latinum were strewn about on the floor.

"Oh my god..." James gasped, breathless in the majesty of it all.

"SIR! GET OUT OF THERE!" Screamed T'lan like a wild animal.

"What?" Corgan asked, snapping out of his wonderment and paying attention to wild eyed T'lan.

She screamed, "We must leave! NOW!"

"Wait!" Corgan tried in vain to beg her down to calmness, "What's going

on? Why do we need to leave."

Claire yelled, as she raised her gun again, "Permission to stun or beat Lt T'Lan unconscious, Sir."

"NO! Stand down!" Corgan barked. "T'lan, talk to me!"

"You don't understand." T'lan grunted, glancing savagely at things that were 'not there', "They're everywhere. They're calling to me, flying around me, touching me. I can see them. I feel them trying to erode my defenses. They're overwhelming! I can't keep control! They're everywhere!"

"Where? What?!" James demanded.

T'lan replied angrily, "If you care about me and this away team, you will leave this place RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!"

Micaelah Rabb was suddenly silent, her form held still in a feat of will that was almost awe inspiring to watch. There was a reason that Mike had always called herself human, despite her half-Betazoid heritage. Her empathy had been about nil before she had bonded with Selok, now it was comparable to any other half-Betazoid. At the moment, however, she felt as if she were the center of a storm.

If she had to describe what she felt, provided that she were capable of speech at the moment, it was as if she were in the center of a Texas tornado. Whirling faces spiraled around her and the others in a maelstrom of psychic energy - psychic energy that was almost strong enough for her to see with the naked eye. Control of her limbs was suddenly restored to her, and the Doctor backpedaled towards the entrance, "Ah'm in agreement with T'Lan. We need to git the hell outta here, Commandah. Thay're's somethin' bad in hayer, an' ah think it's hungry."

Claire moved forwards and slapped T'Lan across the face, "Calm down."

T'lan's focus came back to Claire, the slap jarring her out of her panic. But in that transition came a stare, a mix of wonderment and fright that brought the usual Vulcan austerity to its knees. T'lan looked lost, and to find her way she looked right into the eyes of Claire Barnes. Her eyes had a fawning, pleading look as T'lan face came too comfortably close.

She grimaced again, the unseen psychic forced buffeting her fighting her defenses. Her rifle fell, clattered, and became ignored. Rarely did a Vulcan feel fear, and when they did it was numbingly painful. T'lan sought a sight, sound, a person to cling to, and that person was Barnes.

T'lan came closer, keeping Barnes in a close embrace.

"Help..." She croaked, her hand slowly sliding towards Claire's cheek.

Marcus' head suddenly snapped towards Barnes and a frown crossed his face. "Don't do that." he said simply as he went over and stood by T'Lan in case she doubled over like the major had earlier. But he did not approve of officers slapping the other ranks and he was quite cross at Barnes for it.

But then again, there was something wrong with this room and he kept his weapon at the ready in case something did indeed come flying at them.

T'lan, finding her bravery once again, released herself from Claire.

"That's it. We're leaving right now!" Corgan ordered, "Corgan to Galaxy, we are leaving the unknown structure. Corgan to DS5 computer, erect a level ten forcefield once the away team is out of the unknown structure. MOVE PEOPLE!"

Standing there watching all this. Anna turned to move, just as she did the rock under where she stood gave way. Dropping down to her knees she tried to grab for leverage but soon she was sliding down the rock into a chamber that laid below where they were. When the dust settled and she looked around with her light in the darkened room she then looked up at the room above where the rest of her away team was. "Commander!" She yelled. Anna then tried to climb, but she couldn't. There wasn't anything around for her to grip.

"I can't get up this way.. I'll have to find a passage way!" She yelled, rubbing her back since she had landed on it.

"The hell you will! Barnes! Rope! The rest of you, get going!" Corgan ordered.

Claire grinned, amused that James knew she would have come prepared, and pulled out the canister of quick-set synthrope, "Aye, Sir."

The rope quickly was ready and she tied the rope around her waist before throwing one end to James and one end down the hole to Anna. She called out, "Tie it around your waist and hold on tight so we can pull you up, Lt Cmdr."

"Hang on!" Anna called out shinning her light around the smaller chamber. There were more of those ornate statues and door ways that lead off into other rooms or passage ways. Flipping her tricorder open she looked down at it. Claire and James couldn't see Anna, all they could see was her light from above. Taking a few steps away from the synthrope she stood at the wall, shinning her light over it the semi-precious stones light up in a rainbow of colors. Ranging from sapphire blue to a beautiful orange color. Broken mosaics lay on the floor, destroyed by some thing or someone.

Reaching her hand out she felt a seam around the parameter of the ornate circular alcove. "Commander.." She called out, but James couldn't hear her or something. Reaching up she tapped her commbadge. "O'Shea to Corgan," there was no response.

Whatever was behind this 'door' was the source of the power spike she registered earlier. Moving back to where the synthrope was she looked up. "Commander. I've found something down here.. I believe I'm in some sort of antechamber.. I think I've found the power source of some kind. I have a hunch the stones are a conductor of energy, I think they produce light.. I'd like permission to investigate down here farther... This might be what we are looking for. IF you feel the team is at risk, grant me permission to stay behind... leave Barnes with me... I don't think this is something we can pass up, Sir." Anna said, looking back toward the direction of the power source.

James checked behind him. The rest of the team, psykers included, were making a hasty retreat. "We have an unknown threat, Commander! I can't let you stay here! Just give it a scan and visit it later! Climb up the f**king rope now!"

Anna was going to protest, but then something moved in the shadows and she couldn't haul her ass up the rope fast enough. "Pull!!" She yelled, as she climbed. "Something is down here!" She yelled.

"Later!" James grunted. Claire and James hauled the rope, and Anna, quickly out of the hole. Corgan grabbed Anna's wrist to pull her the rest of the way out. "This isn't something a combat team can handle. Would you like to organize a better team to study this place?"

Just for good measure, Claire pulled out her chain of concussion and stun grenades, and emptied half of it down the hole, hearing the loud bangs of the grenades as they exploded down below.

"Please... I'd sooner tattoo my white ass then bring a engineering team down here... I will if I can bring a boat load of marines with me." Anna said, as she felt James move her more quickly up the path they had came.

"What good are phasers when we don't even know the threat, Commander? This unknown phenomena is not my field of expertise. If you want to check out that power source, be my guest, but I warn you a battalion of Andorian Rangers will still be flummoxed. If you want to check it out, get some people with brains, then some phasers. And no psychics!" Corgan ordered, "You saw what happened. Hell with it. We need to think through this before we go back. For now let's go home."

A minute later, Claire, James and Anna caught up with the rest of the team. The forcefield shimmered to life on the docking bay's entrance, an invisible (inadequate?) defense.

James check his team. "Is everyone ok?"

Claire nodded, "Yeah, mate. Everyone seems to be accounted for."

On checking T'lan, James found she reverted back to the unruffled, emotionless Vulcan she was before their trip. The only sign of her trial was the sweat of her brow and a green flush to her face. The look she gave James was as steady as a pillar. She was back, her mind held firm, her condition adequate. This was what James predicted she'll say in typical Vulcan austerity.

Her head bowed with subtle reverence, "I am well, Commander."

To that, James was taken aback.

Even for an eccentric like T'lan, that was a strange comment.

"Say My Name"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

Ensign Ember Lansky
Fighter Pilot / Backup Security Officer

Saul almost passed by the mirror without noticing. One second later, however, his reflection appeared on the mirror once more, as he stopped and stepped back to view himself.

It just didn't look right with the red collar.

And if that's not enough, it was tighter near the throat, making Saul feel like he's being strangled by his own uniform.

He observed himself for a little while longer, then shook his head in distaste, and continued up the hall where the entrance to sickbay awaited.

Doctor Fienberg was nowhere to be seen. Saul assumed that the new Medical chief - the one with the bizzare accent - was Klaus' replacement. Much like Saul's predecessor, Lieutenant Taern, Klaus vanished without any early warning. Saul barely knew him, but sickbay just wasn't the same without the German accent echoing through the halls.

Eternal damnation was bound to be better than being forcibly confined to sickbay. Inhaling a deep breath, Ember turned her gaze to a section of the ceiling, having finished with counting dust specks on the walls and stripes on the adjacent biobeds. There were only so many things she could do lying prone on the bed. "Blasted head injury," she muttered, certain that it was one of the main reasons she was asked to stay a few hours for 'observation'.

Saul resorted to locating Doctor Slen. The Trill doctor was reading something on his console, possibly a medical article. Saul tapped him on his back, then politely asked him for a new hypospray of the cursed medicine Saul had to take every day.

"I assume you're here to check on Nara?", The Trill Doctor said.

"That's the other thing I was going to ask about."

"She was discharged from sickbay not too long ago. I think she's OK. I'm glad you're not forgetting to take your medicine anymore, Bental.", Doctor Slen added, turning his chair toward a nearby replicator.

"I don't have plans of falling into coma again, Doctor. A control freak, like the rest of the Bental family.", Saul replied, then waited patiently as the medicine began to form within the replicator.

Not that eavesdropping was one of her hobbies, but when the only break in the dull monotony was the stream of patients, Ember couldn't resist overhearing the conversation nearby. But just when she was prepared to tune it out since its level of interest seemed on par with mental sheep counting, she bristled. Bental? The word screamed in her mind, echoed a thousand times over. Disregarding advice to the contrary, she hastily sat up with a vengeance. "You're a Bental? From Utrecht?" She asked, eyes narrowed.

Doctor Slen rushed toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently trying to push her back to lying position. "Easy, Ensign, easy."

Behind him, Saul swiveled slowly, alarmed. In a split second, he hid his surprise, and began to speculate why would someone here address him as 'Bental from Utrecht'. It couldn't be good, not at all.

Could one of his cousins possibly send someone after him? Here to the Galaxy?

Up until now, Saul regarded Starfleet as some sort of fortress. His past, his family, could send messages and harras him as much as they want, but as long as he doesn't leave the fortress, he's untouchable.

Unless the fortress was breached.

He steadily stepped toward the biobed. The woman sitting on it was gazing at him with two icy blue eyes, her pointed chin slightly raised. Despite the obvious injuries she suffered from, she appeared proud and firm.

"That depends on who is asking.", Saul said in a low voice.

"What? The fact that you're a Bental will change depending on what my agenda is?" She retorted right back, unable to conceal the tinge of resentful sarcasm that colored her tone. "It's good to know you're at least self-aware that the particular name's not worth keeping."

If Saul was offended, he didn't show it. "Some say it isn't worth keeping, others would pay to be related. I know this guy who ended up in Bajoran prison just because he was trying to hard to get that name."

She gave a half-sneer. "They only want the name because they are blinded by fame and power. Doesn't mean that there's any real worth in it beyond the superficial." Her gaze, as she regarded Saul, was suspicious, a raw anger simmering beyond the surface. If that had been an attempt to revert her opinion of the Bentals, it was a sorry and miserable attempt. "And you? You seem to have no choice but to be stuck with that pathetic excuse for a name."

Saul shrugged his shoulders. "It's just a name, lady. First name's Saul, by the way, from Tactical.", He extended his arm, "And you are?"

Her arms were folded. "Sorry, I don't make it a habit to fraternize with Bentals." Her words were direct and cutting and so was the glare that she shot him, as though there was some part of him that was overly repulsive.

If she was an agent of Devoss, Janny or Isiah - then she was a pretty good actress, Saul reckoned. Otherwise, the wounded woman was probably one of thousands of people who had run-ins with Saul's extended family.

"Telling me your name isn't fraternizing, I think.", Saul indicated, grinning slyly as always. "I'm just too lazy to ask one of the doctors, see?"

She bit her lower lip, her mouth pressed into a straight line that declared her stubbornness. She wasn't going to yield, her mind reluctantly thinking how great a way it was to kick off her career on her new ship. Pure brilliance. First day on the move and already she was making enemies right, left and center. She shrugged. "Then get your laziness cured," she stated drily.

Despite feeling very unwelcomed by the wounded pilot, Saul refused to walk away. "So I take it that you are one of the two officers brought on board from that fighter, ENSIGN.", He stated, putting an emphasis on the last word. Perhaps the woman might recall that this specific Bental had a 'Lieutenant J.G.' title prior to his infamous family name. "What happened? How did you get hit?"

He was pulling rank? This was low, underhanded and unscrupulous. But on the other hand, perhaps it was just the reminder she needed, placing the spotlight on a suspicious, glaring detail she hadn't thought about. It wasn't enough to quell the ire that flared behind her gaze, but it was enough to hold off her scorching bite, at least for a few minutes. "We were attacked by Breen and Hydran ships, and then before we knew it, more ships came into the fray. Two of our own joined in the fight *against* us," Ember told him, the spark of indignation in her eyes evident that she still haven't gotten over the ridiculousness of it all. "We were totally outfought, and I ended up here."

Saul nodded, genuinely concerned. The reports did mention that the fighter was most likely hit by friendly fire as well, but he didn't believe that another Starfleet fighter assaulted them on purpose. It would make Tactical's mission even more difficult.

She looked at him - 'here' with the sore luck of bumping into you, seemed to be what she was saying. "What's a Bental doing in Starfleet?" Apparently she had some questions of her own too.

"Serving, Ensign, serving. Would you believe it? Working for the greater good, and such.", Saul chuckled. "Not common for someone with my family name, eh? What do you have against the name, anyway?", He asked, and then couldn't stop himself from using the family 'motto', "Everything we do is legit..."

That answer was delivered so flippantly that she wondered if it even contained a grain of truth. "Right," she said disbelievingly. But then why else would he be here if he didn't at least share some of Starfleet's ideals? How else would he have risen in the ranks? "I would have thought it was to make sure there're soldiers on both sides of the line." Spy, agent, security precaution, whatever the preferred term was. She let out a mirthless laugh at his quip. "They're legit? Maybe because the Bentals *define* what's legitimate."

Saul grinned nastily. The wounded officer's hit the bullseye.

"That's not a contradiction, and that's the beauty.", He told her, "However, you'll be glad to hear that my family didn't define Starfleet's rules... at least, not that I'm aware of. Plus, I haven't been in contact with them since I left my homeworld.", He lied, "So if you've got any problem with THEM, it's not my problem."

She looked at him sideways. "That's just convenient, isn't it? I don't think any Bental is different." That pronouncement delivered, Ember was suddenly tired of having this conversation, tired of being in Saul's presence. And the truth was too, that he provoked too many painful memories that she would prefer not to dredge up. She tore off the neural transceiver on her forehead that was tracking her vital signs, and slid off the biobed, cautious to avoid physical contact with Bental as she sidestepped him. The way she treated him, it was almost as if he had the plague.

"Well, that was fun. Now if you don't mind, *Lieutenant*, I gotta go," She said curtly, walking right past Saul and the doctor with a wave and a glib remark that she'll be back for her routine checkup before she was out the door. She seemed as though she simply couldn't stand another minute longer being in the same room as Saul.

The Bental in question leaned toward the Doctor. "What's this officer's name?", He inquired.

"Lansky. Ember."

"Lansky.", Saul repeated, still gazing toward the door in which Ember just vanished.

"I'm a magnet for messed up women.", He murmured. And just when he thought that the only threat in the sector was the Hydrans.

"Lost and Found"

MCPO Madden Jayce, CMC, DS5
Major Corran Rex, Vanguard Leader

OOC: Takes place prior to "The Structure" pts 1 & 2

------------------- Deep Space Five Jefferies Tubes -------------------

["Galaxy to Major Rex."] the voice came over his comm badge, startling the Trill as he crawled through an unlit section of Jefferies tube. He jumped slightly, his head backing on the low ceiling of the access way.

"Son of a bitch." he muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

["Major Rex, come in."] the voice repeated, before he identified it as that of the Captain.

"I'm here, sir." he replied with a tap of the commbadge.

["Major, Counselor Elessidil is reporting telepathic contact with another Betazoid on the station, Master Chief Madden Jayce, apparently. From what we can tell - sensors are a bit spotting on tracking life signs right now - your team is closest to her. Ops is transmitting exact coordinates to your tricorder now."

Flicking his eyes down, the Trill saw the information, along with the Starfleet Personnel photo file appended to it, so he could identify her properly. "You want me to bring her back to the ship, or proceed to the rendezvous with Corgan, Rabb, and O'Shea?" there was a moment's silence as he guessed the human Captain was considering his options. ["If she's up for it, take her with you to Docking bay Seven. Doctor Rabb can check her out there, and then decide if she needs to be sent back."]

"Got it, Cap." the pilot responded. "Rex out." he finished, closing the comm. As he, Barnes and Slaton reached another junction, Corran noted that this was where they'd have to split up. "Barnes, Slaton - you go on ahead to the rendezvous. The Chief's probably going to be a little skittish, so one person will be less threatening than three - especially with all that ordnance you're carrying, Barnes."

Claire just gave a wide grin at that, but the two junior officers acknowledged the order, and went on ahead to meet Corgan.

--

Madden was only dimly aware of the Jeffries tube hatch being lifted up, vaguely wondered who was able to override her lockouts. She forced her mind toward consciousness, opened her eyes. The figure was reaching toward her. Her instincts kicked in and she cried out, arms moving up to grab hold of the assailant's, ready to battle for her life if she needed to. Of course, she was weak and incapable of doing any thing beyond making small finger indentations on his eviro-suit.

"Don't," she murmured. "Don't hurt me, I'm not a threat…"

"Chief, it's okay," Corran said softly, pressing the dread that he still felt with every move away from the center of his thoughts.

~That's not gonna help, kid.~ came the response of a familiar voice, like a shot through his consciousness.

~Vorrin?~ Corran asked, tentatively wondering if his symbiosis was about to dissolve, and he was going to have a dozen voices in his head again. ~Old man?~

If he was there (so to speak) Vorrin wasn't answering. Corran gave a quick shake of his head, and looked down at the small betazoid woman he was extending a hand towards. "Master Chief Jayce, it's all right, you're safe now." he said, putting the steel of a squadron commander into his voice.

Slowly, her sight came into focus as did her telepathic eye. Trill. Joined. But there was something else going on there. He was disturbed. Like the others. But a little differently. Something from him gnawed at her psyche, like nails over a chalkboard or styrofoam over a smooth surface.

"Who are you?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. She tried to move more, but her muscles were stiff from the cold and from being immobile in the cramped space for so long.

"I'm Major Corran Rex, Chief, of Vanguard Squadron, USS Galaxy." he said, giving her a grin. Caves, but this woman looked like hell. Or more accurately, like hell had come over for dinner, brought a few million friends, and completely fucked over the place before stiffing her with the bill.

With care, Corran lifted the Chief out of the hidey-hole she'd found for herself. "Counselor Elessidil sends his greetings. It must have taken a lot for you to get a message to another telepath."

Without the residue body heat warming her crevice, she quickly began to shake with the even lower temperature of the hallway. She clung to him, her hands grasping at anything to could for some extra warmth.

Any other time, Corran would have probably tried to flirt, or take advantage of the need she had for a warm body - but not in a place like this. He wasn't completely amoral, after all.

Instead, he removed his flight jacket, placing it over the small Master Chief's shoulders. "Chief, what happened here?"

She shook her head, tucking her body up into the jacket as much as possible, trembling purple-white fingers clutching it closed around her. The size of the jacket was directly proportionate to the size of the man: given the bulk of the large Trill, the jacket enveloped her. Not that she had much body heat to fill it at the moment.

"I don't know. They came from nowhere," she said, voice quivering with cold. Her teeth were beginning to chatter. "We don't know what hit us, where it came from, but it had to be from the Object. It hit... it hit the telepaths first, and they went crazy. It wasn't long before chaos... and then it was everyone for themselves. I haven't seen anything like that since the war." Her dark Betazoid eyes didn't seem to see anything at the moment; they were staring somewhere over Corran's shoulder, unfixed. "And even then. Here, they were like animals. Like they were possessed. They weren't even people anymore. There was nothing there. They... they killed each other. I... i just... I didn't want to abandon my people, my post, but I had to, I... they didn't give... me choice... I just. It took everything I had. Everything. And it's still--"

She stopped herself short, freezing as though there was a sudden noise that caught her attention. Every piece of her mind and body were listening to the station around her.

"It's still here," she said, shaking more, though this was a different trembling: fear instead of cold. Intense fear.

"Yes," Corran replied simply. "It is." From her descriptions, the nagging suspicion of familiarity rose in him once more, though for some reason, Corran felt as though Rex was actively trying to keep that information from him. It was an.. unfamiliar (and decidedly unpleasant) sensation.

"This object of yours," he asked. "Is that the structure in docking bay seven?"

She gave a quick, crisp nod.

"I'm headed there to rendezvous with some other people form my ship to check it out. Are you up for coming along? we could really use your help, Chief. You're the only person still alive on this station that's not from the Galaxy."

She didn't reply audibly, but as Corran led the way, the Chief did follow. That, the Trill supposed, was something.

"Escape"

By: Major Corran Rex, (Vanguard Leader)

Including parts of "The Structure", pt II

Location: Unknown Structure, DS5

As the party made it's way down the narrow rock corridor, Rex's eyes kept darting to the familiar lattice of the rock. The Major eyed the hollowed out tunnel, running his hands experimentally over the familiar feel of the rock. It was a porous asteroid, but a very dense one. The rarity of such a rock only served to heighten his suspicions. Rex knew he should say something about the familiarity of all of this, and indeed - the symbiote suspected both exactly why he should say something, based on his half-remembered memories of events more five centuries ago. Even more, he was increasingly aware of his inability to do so.

"I'm not getting anything on Engineering tricorder beyond this bulkhead." he heard the Engineer, O'Shea, say aloud, and noted that she was frowning as her gaze returned to her tricorder.. "Wait.." She said. "Faint.. energy signature... unknown source and pattern." O'Shea reported as she began to sweep her device back and forth over the doorway.

Rex heard the Security Chief, Corgan, make a low growl in his throat.. "We'll knock on the door. And if they don't answer, we'll have to kick it in. Major, Lieutenant T'lan... last chance. I think you both should leave." the human said pointedly.

The Vulcan replied first. "No sir, I cannot. We Vulcans know a great deal about psychic phenomenon. You will need me."

"I will remain." Rex replied simply. He could feel Corran pressuring him to speak the truth, to tell them that they should all run from this place as fast as possible, evacuate Deep Space Five, and blow the whole thing straight to hell with quantum torpedoes.

The Trill didn't say any of that, though.

He saw the Security Chief simply shrug, though his expression indicated a definite displeasure at their presence. "Fine. Against my better judgment you can all come in."

"Mahn, too," Rex heard the Doctor, Rabb, say, and knew she was angling herself to keep an eye on him.

He noted the Doctor's attentions, of course - and they did not surprise him. Three of his past hosts - although Corran only knew of one - had been Doctors. Back then, Rex wouldn't have behaved any differently than Rabb.

That, of course, had been then. This was now.

Rex watched as O'Shea strapped her engineering pack back onto her back and made her way forward, open tricorder in one hand, powered-up phaser in the other. A more whimsical symbiote might have suggested that the engineer's attitude was a direct metaphor for Starfleet itself. "Tunnel goes deep.. can't get a detailed scan. It looks safe." the Engineer said as she lead the way. "Whoa.. there is a incline. I'm reading a network of man made passages. It's a bloody maze... trying to plot a clear path."

'They want to be found.' Rex observed to himself, knowing that he'd be proven right soon enough. 'It won't be difficult.'

"I"ve... I've got it!" O'Shea reported a moment later, and resumed leading the way, Corgan close at her side, and Rex allowing himself to trail behind slightly. The deeper they went, the more the buzzing in his head seemed to increase. Though, of course, that was okay. It was jut the Others, talking. There was no danger to be had from the Others.

"I've got a large chamber just up ahead." the Engineer said, and Rex returned his gaze to her. Entering the large cavern, chamber, they had passed a multitude of statues of various incarnations shattered and whole, amidst the maze of passages. He saw that O'Shea had stopped only long enough to take a few tricorder scans. The broken tilework of intricate mosaics crunched solidly under their feet, to the places on the ground that they'd fallen when this structure had been drawn into DS5's gravity field.

The Shard - the cursed prison, glowed contentedly in it's place in the ceiling. A telltale crack ran along the side of it, and the shard began to pulse as it's... inhabitants.. detected the presence of those they'd been waiting for.

Some had escaped earlier, but none had been of the Joined, those perfect vessels. To himself, Rex smiled in satisfaction as he began to mentally call out to the Others. Deep in his mind, Corran realize what was happening, that Rex was no longer in control of their body. Someone - or something - else was.

And he could do nothing to prevent it.

"I think that it's appropriate to say... bloody hell.." They heard the Engineer say.

"Ah'd jus' go with 'daaaang,'" the Doctor commented, drawing it out in her strange accent.

"I tend to prefer 'holy sh*t'." They heard the Security Chief comment, and fought back a chuckle.

Invisible to the eye - but not the mind's eye - a stream of psychic energy began to flow from the shard to Corran Rex, the Joined, that magnificent vessel that promised freedom from this eons-old prison. Some flowed around the Vulcan and the Doctor as well, though it was more difficult to be carried there. The Joined One, Corran mentally heard one of the entities note, would make a perfect vessel for Them to escape back to the ship. Then they could adapt to the non-psychics among the survivors. And if the attempt to do so drove more of the corporeal life forms insane.. well, sacrifices had to be made.

If he could have, Corran would have shuddered at the coldness of it. But now, a prisoner in his own body, he could not even move as the psychic energies poured into him.

Absently, They noted the others studying the stature of the Hebitian. It was of no import - the information would do them no good.

"My god!"the Security Chief said. "It looks like a bloody spoonhea... Cardassian."

"More lahk somethin' strayt outta either Terran Indian or Norse mythology," the Doctor commented, oblivious to what was happening to Rex, right behind her.

In fact, this was no coincidence. They were actively suppressing anyone's curiosity towards the Trill. These others did not matter - it was the Joined One who was their escape. But appearances had to be maintained.

"Hmm, looks like some kind of worship area.." the Young One - Slayton - commented.

~'And it will be again'. ~Corran heard one of Them think clearly, malevolently.

As the observed the Statue, the Security Chief spoke again. "There is another room up ahead.There's mineral deposits everywhere. Gold, latinum, gemstones...f**king hell... hello retirement. I'm checking it out. Feel free to come with me."

~Yes.~ They thought as more of Them swarmed into the body of Corran Rex. ~Please do.~

As the Security Chief poked around, more of the Kind came free of their prisons, and experimentally began to attempt to penetrate the minds of the non-psychics. With his altered perceptions, Corran could witness the Kind, darting about like mist, stabbing and rebuffed by those whose brains, They said, were too primitive to contain the Kind.

"SIR! GET OUT OF THERE!" the Vulcan screamed,d breaking the peaceful tranquility of the moment. Corran watched as the swirls refocused their efforts on her, the Chief and the Doctor. Though of course, he knew the Chief to be a Vessel already. The Doctor would eventually prove susceptible as well.

~Get the Vulcan~ he heard Them say from his mind.

"What?" Corgan asked, snapping out of his wonderment and paying attention to wild eyed T'lan.

The Vulcan screamed, beginning to loose her race's noted self-control., "We must leave! NOW!"

"Wait!" Corgan tried in vain to beg her down to calmness, "What's going on? Why do we need to leave?"

The Eager One - Barnes - raised her weapon towards the Vulcan as They moved Corran Rex's body back into the shadows. , "Permission to stun or beat Lieutenant T'Lan unconscious, Sir."

"NO! Stand down!" The Security Chief barked. "T'lan, talk to me!"

"You don't understand." T'lan grunted, glancing savagely at things that were 'not there', "They're everywhere. They're calling to me, flying around me, touching me. I can see them. I feel them trying to erode my defenses. They're overwhelming! I can't keep control! They're everywhere!"

~Give in, Vulcan.~ the Kind cast collectively from Corran's body. ~Surrender your control. It will go easier for you. No more doubt and uncertainty, no more battle to control yourself. We will offer you perfect control. You need only.. to place your faith in us."

"Where? What?!" James demanded.

The Kind around the Doctor bounced away breifly, and she spoke to the others. "Ah'm in agreement with T'Lan. We need to git the hell outta here, Commandah. Thay're's somethin' bad in hayer, an' ah think it's hungry."

Claire moved forwards and slapped T'Lan across the face, "Calm down."

The Kind watched as events between the Vulcan and the Eager One played out, never laying down their assault on the Vulcan's mind.

She would surrender. The Joined One had.

All eventually did.

"Help..." the Vulcan croaked, her hand slowly sliding towards Claire's cheek.

"Don't do that." the Young One said warningly. As with all youth, he was perceptive - and doomed to be ignored. With all it's subtleties the Kind encouraged that notion in the others.

As the Vulcan released herself from the Eager One, the Security Chief spoke again. "That's it. We're leaving right now! Corgan to Galaxy, we are leaving the unknown structure. Corgan to DS5 computer, erect a level ten force field once the away team is out of the unknown structure. MOVE PEOPLE!"

Throughout the "retreat", the minds that now controlled Corran Rex simply watched, cooperated, and drew no attention to themselves. ~Be patient~ They told the rest of the Kind. ~We will send others. All will be free.~

Bare minutes later, after the disagreement between the Security Chief and the Engineer - all were accounted for outside of the Structure.

"Everyone okay?" the Security Chief asked, taking a look around.

Claire nodded, "Yeah, mate. Everyone seems to be accounted for."

The Vulcan replied normally, though "Corran" sent a welcoming thought to the Kind that had escaped in her mind., "I am well, Commander."

"As am I." Rex finally said, quietly. "I believe you were correct before, Commander, and that we should return.. to the Galaxy."

The Security Chief eyed him warily, but nodded his assent, and contacted the ship for beam out.

As the dematerialization effect took hold, all of the unwanted passengers in Corran Rex's body indulged in a single aspect of control as they thought of the Federation starship, with over a thousand host life forms.

Using the Trill's features, they smiled.

"Before"

Lieutenant J.G. Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineer

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

Saul was still new to the whole 'girlfriend' business.

With Branwen, she just kept telling him that she's his girlfriend, but other than taking her out a couple of times, and eventually letting her down, he didn't really get the chance to feel how it is when someone is supposed to be your other half.

Never in his life did someone depend on him. He didn't let that happen. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he decided to take a chance with Nara because she was an independent woman, which wouldn't rely on him.

As he dashed through the Galaxy corridors, he kept adjusting and meddling with his equipment, trying to make up for the preparation time lost due to his side visit. There were only ten minutes before the Medical away team

departs from the shuttle bay, and as second-in-command of that mission, it would be a bad idea to be late.

However, he gathered that it would also be a bad idea not to drop by your girlfriend after she was discharged from sickbay.

Eventually he found her walking in the corridor. She didn't look to happy either. She had a heck of a day and she just knew it would just get worse.

"Nara.", He panted, reaching for her. "I... wanted to see you before departing... wait up."

Nara paused and felt annoyed, but it couldn't be helped. "I've got to depart too." She turned and seeing him depressed her. She wasn't sure why. It was like seeing him, but not being with him.

"We still have a couple of minutes.", Saul's voice was still distorted by the panting, "I just wanted, you know, to see if you're OK after what happened at your quarters."

Nara nodded. "Considering I'm going on this away mission, I suppose that should answer your question." She knew it was sarcastic. Well, considering how it was meant to be sarcastic. She closed her eyes a moment. She couldn't leave him like this. Not if something happened.

She opened her eyes and looked into his. "I'm sorry. I'm functional." She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want him to worry either. If he would worry. They have barely been in this relationship and she wasn't used to it yet. She almost forgot about him till he approached. "I haven't been myself lately, but I'm fine." ~Fine, in the loosest sense of the word possible,~ she finished to herself.

Saul patted a dark curl straying on Nara's forehead. "Are you sure Nara? If you're still depressed or anything, perhaps you better pass this away mission. I'm sure O'Shea would understand, and even if not - it's her problem. You know, you gave me and Miramon quite a scare back there."

She took a step back, "I won't give O'shea another reason to label me lazy or incompetent!" This was her latest mission. To prove that woman wrong of her opinion. Now, it also held a tone of hatred toward O'shea, which wasn't quite normal. Nara didn't like Brianna O'Shea as a person too well, but the woman was a fine officer and was to be respected.

"Yes, I respect that, but..."

"Depression is a lame excuse on any standard. Anything is a lame excuse!" The headache came back in a jolt and she winced, "I better go." She turned sharply. Which is a bad idea when one is dizzy. She lost her footing and instinctively reached her hand out for the wall.

Saul was instantly next to her, his arms helping her to regain balance.

"I'm not telling you not to go.", Saul told her. He was still unused to touching her so freely, and hesitated for a moment as he sensed her warmth through the uniform. "But I wouldn't want someone who is... not at her best... on my side in a risky away mission."

She jerked her arm away, "Good thing we aren't on the same team." It could had been a joke had it not been for the insulted tone. She adjusted the strap on the kit. "We better just get going before you tick me off, Bental." Both knew that time had gone and passed.

Saul released her. "A good thing. But what about the poor people on YOUR team? They don't get the chance to choose. Think of it, Nara. You say you're a warrior. Use your judgment. I'm willing to trust it."

"This IS my judgment. I'm fine enough to to do my job." She winced from another headache. The struggle to be nice (which wasn't exactly working out) and fighting some primal instinct was really bearing down on her nerves. "Saul, being with you is really painful right now."

Saul's body stiffened for a moment.

"Well, I don't want my princess to be in pain. Behatzlacha on the away team, and I'll see you when we get back if it's not too painful."

Nara nodded as another headache contorted her features. She didn't care if he was being sarcastic or genuine. She didn't care what that word meant. She didn't care if she would return. She just needed to be away from him. Whatever she was going through, she didn't want him to be a part of it.

She turned and using the wall as leverage she walked away. She hoped she gained enough will power to walk straight when she got to the shuttle bay. She wasn't going to let anyone know how bad she was.

After a brief inner debate, the man she left in the corridor decided not to report anything about her, either. He told her that if she wants to be with him, she'll have to fend for herself, and she will not – cannot – expect him to keep her safe. If the daughter of the resurrected hero of Sakaria wants to waltz to her death, he is not going to stand in her way.

It was his first and only condition, and he wasn't going to break it.

Still, as he strode toward the shuttle bay, he felt consumed by doubt.

What if his stubbornness and pride might lead something awful?

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