"Line In The Sand"

Lt. Commander Brianna O'Shea Chief Engineer / S.C.E. Liaison

::: Main Engineering, USS Galaxy :::

Attacks were breaking out all over the ship. Telepaths, Empaths, and high level ESP's were breaking down and acting in a mutany manner. Anna had found her way back to engineering and was in the process of working to get main engineering secured. Standing there at the 'pool table' she was directing and issuing orders to her staff. "I want this section sealed off.. erect a barricade here and there... station guards at here, here, here and there..." Anna said, then nodded as people went to work.

"Commander, what about transporters?" A crewman asked.

"Erect a dampening field.. pull one from stores.. We aren't having anyone beam in." Anna said then looked over at the Jeffries hatch. She knew they couldn't seal that hatch, just incase they needed to get in there to repaired something. "Harrison...," turning to look at the enlisted man. "Break sides arms... take beta team... I want them to began patrols of engineer.. type X phaser rifles.. everyone else, type II phasers..."

Harrison nodded and headed off toward the armory located in main engineering.

"Listen up everyone... we are faced in a difficult situation. We are fighting our friends and loved ones. If you are attacked defend yourselves. All weapons are on maximum stun... they will be able to read your thoughts. Remember that... remember we have to stand our ground and hold engineering at any cost."

"The line has been drawn.. the line is right here!" Anna said as she looked around.

"Morgan... how's the force fields coming along?" Anna asked.

"Coming online now!" The woman said and force fields was building along the three major corridors that came directly into main engineering.

"Bring it on..." Anna whispered and then tapped her combadge, "O'Shea to Bridge... engineering has hunkered down...."

“A game of chess.”

2nd Lt Jebidah Baile Recon Specialist Furies Detachment

Look at the blind men run.

Mundane.

Weak.

Blind.

Working his way past the forcefields had been... challenging, but now he was outside, the entire ship his hunting ground.

The Galaxy was a huge ship with a large crew and yet it was surprisingly easy to stay hidden. Baile wasn't trying to sneak in the true sense of the word, instead he simply stayed out of sight. Sneaking would have attracted attention and there would be a need for that later. Right now the wrong attention would put a dent in his plan.

He still wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew that once he saw it there would be no doubt, no guessing if it was right or not. It would just be.

"I always loved your back."

He spun around, pulled his gun and aimed it squarely between Maya's eyes. Whatever it was, and he refused to think about it as his Maya - she was dead and buried, smiled. The corner of her mouth barely moving, but there was no mistaking she was a bit amused.

"You've done that already and see what that got you." Why the hell did that voice still get to him the way it did?

Gently she pushed the gun and his arm aside. She took a step closer and placed a hand on his chest. A sly gleam in her eyes greeted him when he forced himself to look her in the eyes. "Someone's been working out.."

Baile's grey-ish eyes took in the sight in front of him. She had always been beautiful, almost too beautiful and that hadn't changed.

"What do you want?" he asked her in a low voice, keeping his face completely calm and unreadable.

She took a hold of his hand and stepped backwards. "Come.. " The look in her eyes was mischievous, her voice filled with promises of a good, no - unforgettable, time.

Normally Baile would have pulled back. The situation was wrong and most of all - she wasn't real - but Baile couldn't care less. Instincts, strong and unyielding ran the show and he wasn't protesting.

He followed her for a few minutes through the chaos that was erupting around them. At times he stopped, watching the fights between the brainsurfers and the rest of the crew.

Maya's smell was like sweet torture. God knew he had missed it, more than he had ever dared to admit to himself. She pressed him up against the bulkhead, her nails gently raking his bare arms. "It's been too long.. " she breathed in his ear, barely audible and yet her voice drowned out the beating drums in his head.

They kissed deeply and fiercely and for a few seconds Baile was totally oblivious to his surrounding as he drowned in the sensations Maya caused. Guilt, desire, anger, joy, passion, loathing.

It was primitive, it was rough, it was desire and guilt.

Pushing the blonde goddess aside the marine continued down the corridor. A mysterious smile graced Maya's face as she saw Baile continue on his prowl. Baile kept himself in the shadows, watching the fights. It was remarkably easy to hide on the ship, despite the number of people running around.

She stood beside him as he stopped to watch a Betazoid take on three members from Ops. The fight was quick as the Betazoid used its abilities in a way Betazoids detested. Baile chuckled at the tragic scene being played out a few meters away.

"No hero to the rescue? No knight in shining armour galloping down the battlefield to rescue the innocent?" Maya asked him with a mild sarcasm to her voice.

"I'm no hero..." he replied with a shrug.

Again her lips told tales about secrets Baile didn't understand nor cared about. Baile leaned back into the shadows. It wasn't time yet.

He took one last look at the Betazoid who seemed very pleased at the handiwork. It was going to be interesting indeed.

"Baile.. "

Turning his head he looked at her with greyish eyes. A part of him knew that she wasn't real. She couldn't be. Dust to dust. But a small part of him wanted it to be true, wanted the pain to go away for at least a little while.

But the pain would remain, her visage a cosmic joke thrown in his face. The universe would pay for the joke. The stars themselves would weep blood when he was done.

He said nothing, feeding from the pain and the anger burning inside of him. When she remained silent he turned around and started jogging down the corridor, knowing that if he turned around he would be alone again.

A plan started forming in his head, one that would require the aid of Engineering unless the enemy had infiltrated their ranks as well. It didn't matter much. The only thing that would have to be adjusted if Engineering couldn't help him was the timetable. He found a terminal and sent Engineering a message Anna would understand the second she saw it. The reborn marine closed down the terminal and sniffed the air.

There it was again. The change in the air.

His hands itched for a fight, to completely crush his opponents but it was not the right time yet. Instead he rolled his neck, forcing down the irritation of not being able to fight.

Heading out into the corridors once again, his new hunting ground, the marine started tracking down the source he knew was out there.

He started jogging again. The air was filled with the tales of pain and violence and all he had to do was follow the trail. Another piece of the puzzle he had been working on since the Dominion War fell into place. He didn't mind the violence, the pain and suffering. It was his fuel, it was in his blood. It pumped through his body, made his head throb in anticipation of what was to come. Every fibre of him ached from barely held back energy, a feedback of what was to come.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. A Great White. He started wrapping his hands with some gauze he had found earlier by the terminal, giving the designers a mental pat on the back for placing first aid kits here and there on the ship.

The second he saw it he knew it.

Evil.

It took evil to know evil.

He had seen her before, but not really sure where. Maybe back on Trill. Didn't matter much. Slim and darkhaired human with Vulcan features. Baile crouched down, the newly awoken predator in him ready to strike. Silently he shook his head as if to tell himself 'not yet'. The halfbreed smelled, her scent filled with a malice and a primitive but dangerous lust he had not felt in a long time.

Now the hunt could begin.

"Me, Myself, and I"

Ensign Zev Raynor
Intelligence Officer
Transferring to: USS Galaxy

Warrant Officer Ronald Zackary Logan (NPC)
Marine Demolitions Specialist
Transferring to: Deep Space Five

Nameless Betazoid Crewman (NPC)
Operations Staff
Deep Space Five Escapee

Location: USS Saint Lawrence – Danube Class Runabout
Safe Distance away from Deep Space Five

The timer struck zero, he pulled out of warp a short but safe distance away from the station... he simply turned to Logan and said one thing: "Here we go... into the shit."

He began hailing...

"This is the Saint Lawrence, to Deep Space Five. Come in Deep Space Five…" There was no response, not that was surprising by the look of the place... what Raynor would describe as your standard issue creepy abandoned space station, complete with internal battle damage, carnage, chaos, and floating bodies, more than likely killed in ways that would make Madden proud... just what he wanted for Christmas.

"Ouch" Logan said to his side. "Looks like you after a major party mon..."

"Shut up. It really looks like it needs a new decorator, or at least a new paint job... Blowjob. Whichever is easier to get... I wouldn’t know... Wait..." Raynor paused; he thought he saw something else.

"What is it, mon?"

"What is that," he pointed to a shadow of something behind Deep Space Five. "I'm going to magnify the image..." Upon further magnification they saw the outline of a nacelle of a Galaxy III Class on the other side of the Station.

"Our ride outta 'ere? " Logan asked, seeing the nacelle from behind the station.

"Maybe... assuming that they haven’t been hit by the same crap that the station went through, can’t tell from here, and with sensors crapped out..." Raynor said, as he looked sideways at Logan. "…were going to have to move in order to get a proper look."

"We could try hailin 'em..." Logan argued, with his eyebrows raised.

"They should have heard our hail to the Deep Space Five, if they know it is as abandoned as we think it is. There’s probably some sort of interference, same crap that’s affected our sensors… effective way of making sure a base doesn’t receive reinforcements if you plan on attacking it. Eventually someone would notice and send a ship or maybe a taskforce, but it would take time for this out of the way station. It’s possible that we’ve sped up the process, when sent that message about the downed shuttle..." Raynor paused. He still knew it would take time for Starfleet Command to get off its ass on this situation. And there was another thought his unconscious mind was still processing; something about this situation that was bugging him. He continued "There's the possibility that, the Galaxy is facing boarders right now." Raynor paused again for a moment in consideration, then joked, "Then again, there's also the possibility that they're having this massive orgy that were missing out on. That all the lights are off and they’re just feeling around..."

"Then what are we waitin' ere for, mon?" Logan joked back.

"Well you know... don't have any condoms, didn't get my injection this month, not quite ready to be father, I'm a 30 year old virgin, that sort of thing..." Raynor answer is tone not at all serious.

"You can't be serious!" Logan exclaimed, clearly reacting to the virgin part.

"I can be, I just choose not to..." Raynor responded in a playful manner.

Logan checked the sensors again, knowing they weren't working, muttering under his breath "Crazy Fleeter…"

"Space Monkey," Raynor corrected. In general most people who got to know Raynor didn't paint him with the same brush as they did other Starfleet officers. He just had a different air and personality about him, which one couldn't place Starfleet.

Just then he heard a sort of shuffling noise in the back. As if someone was going through some of the equipment. He looked and Logan who had obviously heard it too with a raised eyebrow, "Looks like our guest has gotten out of bed, you go tuck him back in and I'll move us in for a closer look."

Raynor began punching in the commands as Logan rounded the corner. Just as the runabout began moving slowly he sensed Logan's trauma, his pain, and his suffering. Raynor went for the phaser as if on reflex, though it wasn’t his first choice in weaponry it would have to do. By the time he grabbed the phaser Logan was dead. He heard the body collapse to the ground; no sound of struggle or violence. Lethal injection, Raynor had concluded.

Raynor rounded the corner silently but swiftly, saw the Betazoid leaning over the body with a knife as if to mutilate his already dead victim. No thought went into Raynor's mind; he just pulled the trigger, and stunned the Betazoid. He went to examine his target when it hit him. He couldn't focus, some other being was trying to enter his mind, and body. He felt like screaming from the pain, but one good would that accomplish? Instead he just took it stubbornly but silently, tears coming to his eyes. He held his ground for about two minutes, and then collapsed from the strain.

Five minutes later, Raynor’s body got up, but neither Zev nor Madden was at the helm of the vessel. Another had taken over. One of the Kind, Kanin, had taken control. The Betazoid was coming to as well. "Well brother, how does it feel to be free after so many years?" asked the Betazoid.

"You mean days..." said Kanin, checking over his new vessel. He had been part of the first attempt to achieve dominance for the Kind, which for the most part had failed. "This host is acceptable for the time being. He has an unusual mind and unique mental abilities. His physical body is in near perfect condition as well." There was none of the sarcasm or humour in his voice that was usually present in Raynor's. He picked up the phaser and began examining it. "Unusual he finds these weapons less suited to the task of war... more to oriented to terror, peaceful, or scientific purposes." Kanin pointed the phaser at the Betazoid and killed him with it. "But I find it effective none the less."

Kanin put the phaser down and walked back to the helm and adjust the runabout's course to land on Deep Space Five. He was going to destroy the structure. He would not be imprisoned there again, and he knew it held the key to how to defeat them. He would not be brought down by the what he considered the stupidity of his brother either. This was something he could not allow, and if that meant destroying the remaining Kind still imprisoned in the Structure to do it, then that didn’t particularly bother him.

He was the only important thing in the universe, anything else; including the Kind was secondary to him...

*note: fouler language than usual*

"The opening move."

2nd Lt Jebidah Baile
Recon Specialist
Furies Detachment

USS Galaxy

The Marines had been slightly more fortunate than most parts of the ship. They had already hauled their people to sickbay and no telepaths remained with the rest. The problem was they were effectively cut off from the rest of the ship. What ever happened it happened without them knowing about it.

Security had told them to stay put and wait for further instructions. Having heavily armed and trained marines running around on the ship would certainly put a dent in the Kinds plans. Marines loved shooting. Some of them loved blowing things up even more than they loved shooting things to pieces. All in all a bad combination if you intended to take over the ship.

Without orders the Marines had locked down the Marine area and placed guards at the entry points. The awaymissions had depleted their ranks somewhat, which made Sergeant major Furji worried. None of the marines on the awaymission had reported back and with some in sickbay he had been forced to rearrange the groups a bit.

He had sent down Vosak to get El-tee Baile, but none of them had returned. 1st Platoon was out doing God knew what. Damn Ward and his damn secrecy. Did he think the rest of them were idiots?

So far they hadn't gone to full alert, so it meant standard uniform and weapons. No need to upset the Fleeters unless necessary. Furji was a good soldier, but he hadn't expected 'full' command now. Johnson was no where to be found either and Stacker was no where in sight. He sighed as he walked up to the doorway to check up on his people.

Hax was not a happy Marine. Or more precise - he was not a happy Chief Cook Marine. The surly man looked at Red Team XO. "Sargeant Major! Is there a reason I'm stuck with these... sods." he glanced at Boomer and Church who gave him a fake hurt look.

Furji was in no mood for jokes. Something was happening and he didn't know what. "You are here because I tell you to, Sergeant Hax. Is that clear?"

The Furies Chief Cook snapped into attention. "Sir YES SIR!" he shouted to show he had meant no disrespect. Everyone had been jumpy since the ship arrived at the station, but no Marine could understand why they had not been sent in first to clear out any resistance.

Furji took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Bad temper was not one of his traits, but this place took a toll on him. It took a toll on everyone. But they were Marines, no cookie cutter Fleeters.

Suddenly Boomer and Church spun around and raised their rifles when steps echoed through the otherwise quiet hallway. "Who goes?" Boomer called out while Church took a few steps back to provide coverfire.

An hauntingly familiar visage appeared at the end of the hall. El-tee Baile. "Keep your hands where we can see them, Sir."

"What the hell is wrong with his eyes?" Hax said to Furji who drew his sidearm and nodded to Hax. Baile had always made Furji nervous from the moment he had met the El-tee. The man was about as social and friendly as a plasmagrenade shoved down your throat.

"Stay right where you are, sir, or we will open fire!" Boomer warned the approaching Baile. The Marine swallowed hard. Fuck the el-tee looked mean with those eyes. He remembered how the El-tee had looked at them during the drills in the Holodecks. Those looks had seemed loving compared to what he looked like now.

"Stand down, Boomer, or you'll hurt yourself..." Baile replied and kept walking. It was interesting to see how skittish the place made the Marines. Interesting and necessary.

The Red Team XO looked at his CO. "How do we know its you, sir? We've heard reports of strange things happening around the ship and the bridge won't return our hails."

Baile locked eyes with Furji. The Sergeant Major could only keep contact for a few seconds before looking away. "I must have left my id in your spleen. Come over here and I'll rip it out of you and show it to Boomer..."

Church looked nervously at Furji. "Well, Sarg.. it sounds like the El-tee.." Boomer nodded in agreement.

Minutes later all marines except the ones standing guard were gathered in the hangar. Furji walked in alongside with Baile. The short conversation they had had didn't make him feel any better. Quite the opposite.

Baile wore his worn hat again along with his sunglasses. Fighting without the hat was unthinkable and the glasses protected the eyes somewhat. He needed to find something better, but that would have to wait until later. Now that he had found the enemy he had been forced to revise his plan a little. But if Anna did her part, then the rest would fall into place on its own. Baile stopped ten feet infront of the assembled Marines. He nearly frowned when their fears and worries struck him.

"Tell me, Marines... Who the fuck came in here and assraped you out of your courage? I've seen babies with more guts than you right now... You are MARINES you fucking maggots.. You are not allowed to be scared until you are dead! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR YOU MONKEYS?"

The marines blinked, but collected themselves mentally. The El-tee's words cut through the fears in their minds like a knife. The marines not belonging to second platoon had never been subjected to Baile's regime of terror and they took the blunt of it. The rest were, in a odd and self-punishing way, relieved their CO was back or at least alive.

"Now.." Baile's voice lowered to a more normal volume. "From now on this area is under lockdown. No one is to enter or leave." The marines stirred slightly at the new orders, but said nothing.

Baile started pacing back and forth infront of the marines. His body burned to get back to the hunt, to track them down and take them out, one by one. "Members of the crew are under some kind of alien influence and attacks are occurring in certain areas of the ship."

Normally Grace Waldron wouldn't have said anything. It just wasn't her style. But she was worried about her friends, they all were. While the El-tee seemed to think it was all a walk in the park she didn't. "Then we have to help!"

"No." was all he said. Several marines started mumbling and looked at each other. Suddenly the muted noise was interrupted by a loud whistle from Baile. He pointed at his own face with two fingers. "Cut the chatter.. this isn't a damn teaparty for the mentally retarded although I'm starting to think I took a wrong turn somewhere.. " he waited for them to quiet down, taking mental notes of the people trying to stare him down. "First of all this has affected the brainsurfers most of all. Molly Bluelegs and Miss Shrink is nowhere to be found and Ward is busy pretending to be an ARC." He could see Donut flinch as he mentioned the ARC's. That's right you little fuck. I know your secret.

"We don't know the status of Galaxy's armory, but I think it's a safe bet its been compromised. It's what I would have done." He paused, still looking at Donut. You and me are not done. Not by a longshot. "We are Marines. By nature we want big guns. That means our armory is filled with toys the enemy wants and needs. That armory can't fall into enemy hands, or we will be royally fucked."

The explanation seemed to satisfy them for the time being, but waldron wanted one more answer. "What if crewmembers comes down here for help?"

Baile nearly sighed. "Then you will either stun them or kill them. The choice is yours. No one, and I mean NO ONE is to be let through the chokepoints. I don't care if its Bluelegs, Miss Shrink, Ward and his merry men.. anyone coming from the outside is to be considered contaminated and a possible enemy. That includes me once I leave."

That was Furji's que. He placed the holograpic projector on the deck and a view of the structure surrounding the marine area lit up. "The lockdown will have to be in place in a fifteen minutes. We will place sentryguns here, here and here. Nitro - boobytrap them. Set four bouncers around each and set them for internal targetting. No remote control. Full combatgear. First priority is to secure tubes, lifesupport and lights. We will run on our own ventilation. Six men guards the armory outside, Armory Technicians on the inside."

The men and women of the Furies Marine Detachment listened carefully. It was easier to focus now that orders were issued, but shooting on their own? Everyone prayed it wouldn't come to that.

Baile watched Donut make his way towards the barracks. Predictable. The hunter in Baile wanted get rid off the young marine, but it would be impractical at the moment. Instead he followed Donut.

Donut wondered how the hell Baile knew about the ARC. He hadn't forgot the beating Baile had given him. It was kind of amusing that the nutcase thought he was a washout and not the highly trained special ops he was.

"Pull one more stunt like that and I'll kill you."

Baile's voice made Donut spin around, almost dropping into a defensive stance. "Sir?"

"Normally I don't warn people, but I promised Bluelegs to give you a chance and I have.. You tell Ward that if he intends to pull people from my unit he better grow enough balls to come ask me... From now on your life is going to be a living hell just because I feel like it.. "

A rock and a hard place. Donut knew exactly what the expression meant now. The ARC was a secret and this overly aggressive buttfaced monkey knew about it. The same monkey had now threatened his life. "Sir, with all due respect." he started, sounding as serious and as tough as he could. "What ever issues you have with Lt Ward it is not right to take it out on me." Baile's hand grabbed him faster than he thought was possible and twisted the collar enough to stop Donut from breathing.

"Listen up, Miss Menopause... I will say this once... Don't play games with me, Molly.. I run circles around ARC's... A fart downwind impresses me more than you do.. " He pressed Donut backwards until his back met the wall. "I'm not the one that got buttfucked with the letters P O W on my ass... Oh, don't look so surprised, Barbie.. think Ward is the only one with contacts?... "

The El-tee had lost his mind. As soon as this nightmare was over Command was going to hear about this. And the JAG.

"You will stay here with second platoon.. if I see you run around on the ship only an intervention from God himself will stop me from killing you.. " he removed his sunglasses and locked eyes. Donut's eyes widened. Somewhere, deep down inside Donut, he came to a conclusion. Whatever Baile was he would never be able to stop the el-tee from killing him if it came to that. And the El-tee wouldn't hesitate for a second doing it either.

Baile could see the process taking place in Donut's eyes. "That's right, Sally.. " he let go of Donut and left him on the ground. He had been delayed long enough.

Whatever happened to the marines from now on would be by their own choice. Maybe Donut would try and reach Ward. Maybe the marines wouldn't fire or turn away the crew. Maybe everything would go up in a ball of flames. It didn't matter. He had set up the pieces as well as could be done and now the ball was moving.

Picking up firearms and other toys would be nothing but a waste of energy. He needed to move fast and silently. Brute force wouldn't work.

He stopped at by the marines that were setting up one of the sentryguns. A saurian. He wasn't even sure he liked Saurians. "What's your name, Private?"

The Saurian stopped and stood attention. The human was most unpleasant to be near. He emitted a malice the Saurian had never felt before. "Begj"orth~n!akr^e, sir."

Baile blinked. "You've got to be fucking kidding me.. " he grumbled. "Screw that name.. from now on you're Bob... understood?"

Nodding slowly the Saurian tried not to be offended. It had the feeling the human wouldn't care if he was. "Yes, sir.."

He looked at the two marines then shook his head. "Nothing.. as you were." Slowly he started walking down the corridor. As he reached the nearest corner Maya walked up next to him. "For a dead woman you get around a lot.."

She smiled softly at him. "A woman's work is never done."

"What work is that?"

"You'll see, Killer.. you'll see.."

"I don't like surprises."

"I know."

"No Coffee For You"

(Takes place immediately after ‘Line In The Sand’)

By Captain Daren M'Kantu

Commander James Lionel Corgan

And Lieutenant jg. T'lan

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room

The riskiest part of the plan was about to come into fruition.

So thorough and careful was the infiltration that only a few of the mundanes had a clue... and they were the few that had little in the way of a voice. As T'lan and her enthralled security chief made their way to the bridge, others of her kind were being given host bodies among the psychic population, or were subjugating more thrall-like mundanes to serve their cause.

They had the expendable shock troops. They had the hosts. There was one important piece left.

The command sector itself. The mundanes called it a 'bridge', and their leader a 'captain'. If not much in the way of a psychic, their Captain M'Kantu had the legitimate face to allow the conquest of the ship to go with the least amount of mishap.

If it was to happen, it was to happen now, before more mundanes learned the truth.

So was T'lan's mission, so was the rest of their cause. It was to hinge on one capture, or risk an incident like the space station.

She rang the doorbell, the implications of failure knotting in her alien stomach.

"Now, Commander." She whispered, setting in motion the subliminal orders crafted in James' psyche.

“Enter.” Daren continued trying to sort out the problems on his desk. He had swathes of the crew coming down with an ailment that seemed to be as much psychic as physical, an admiral with the patience, maturity and fashion sense of a 12-year old girl breathing down his neck, and an ion storm making the search and rescue operations on DS 5 that much harder. It was, he reflected, almost enough to make him wonder why he hadn’t tried to find a desk job.

“Yes, Commander?” he asked as James entered. “Tell me it’ not more bad news, please.”

Corgan said blankly, "It is bad news, Captain. You have meet Deputy T'lan before, have you?" James introduced his subordinate/dominant, "She is a member of the Hazard Team and she was with me when we went into the unknown structure. Myself and the rest of the nonpsychic contingent felt nothing, but a few of the psykers, including her, felt an intruding presence. I thought that you might want to hear about it yourself."

“I don’t suppose,” Daren said with a sigh, PADD in one hand, “that this presence was, by chance, benevolent?” Psychic parasites, he repeated mentally, why did it have to be psychic parasites? They were, he supposed, better than the possessor worms that Picard had roped him into helping round up. At least they were immaterial - he didn’t like recalling the scenes where he’ witnessed the worms attempting to flee a host body.

"No sir. They are not." Corgan said, deadpanned, "Lieutenant, tell him."

T'lan fidgetedly stepped forward, "Sir, it is true that they are parasites. From what I sensed from them in the structure, they are far from benevolent. It is as if they were trying to... erode my defenses. Most psychic attacks tend to probe for weakness or hit one part of a psychic's mind. But this attack was different. It surrounded me and assaulted on all sides. It was... almost overpowering, sir. In their attack, they made their agenda known."

“And that agenda was?” Daren asked with a certain sense of inevitability.

T'lan unsteadily told the truth, "The want to use the psychic contingent of this crew as hosts. The structure is a prison that DS5 unwittingly stumbled upon, much to our dismay and their fortune. After achieving hosts, they will not stop. I have felt their will to conquer, sir. They covet our territory, our bodies, our technology. They want it all."

T'lan added with an uncharacteristic smile, "I should know. I am one of them."

As if synchronized, Corgan and T'lan drew their hand phasers on the Captain.

The Vulcan/Psychic presence warned, "Do not trip the silent alarms, Captain, and most definitely do not call for help. Your security chief has a keen eye and knows all the security precautions here. Any sign of noncompliance will result in your death."

Daren looked at the two phasers covering him and realized that he was, oddly, relieved. This, at least, was a problem that he could grapple with; as opposed to so many he’d had lately. “In that case, do you mind if I set this PADD down?” he asked with a smile. “And would either of you care for some coffee?” He nodded towards the three empty mugs on his desktop. If they were here, the Bridge was lost, and he had no intentions of letting them transfer a parasite into his mind - or whatever it was that they did – and gain control of the ship through him.

T'lan, showing no tolerance, barked, "Stop stalling, we are not interested in coffee! Drop the device and do as we say. Stand up slowly... don't touch anything! Stand up, and walk towards me. We have no time to parlay... and no reason to. All we want is your obedience."

Daren released the PADD and let it fall to the floor. “There is no chance, then, that peaceful coexistence is possible?” he asked as he stood. “You’re determined to do this in the most violent, thuggish way possible?”

"Alright then." T'lan smirked, "James, the Bridge Crew. There rest of the command staff is either away or under our control. They are expendable. Take care of them."

With a silent nod to confirm his obedience, James loomed his way out of the ready room. Standing in its entranceway, he allowed the Captain enough room to watch. With astonishing speed and efficiency, James drew his hand phaser and set it to wide spread, then swept the bridge crew in its amber light. In multitudes the Bridge crew dropped, its members screaming.

"Will you consider compliance now, Captain?" T'lan asked cruelly.

For only the second time in his career, Daren found himself regretting that the ship’s self-destruct codes were constructed so that it took more than one officer or several minutes of tedious challenge-and response to activate. There was, however, one other option, one that he’d had installed when he took command, a program that existed outside Starfleet regulations, and appeared in no database or file listing. His wife had written it for him years ago, and had seen to the installation of it personally on every ship he’d served aboard since then, eliminating the possibility that someone under his command would know it was there. It wasn’t a self-destruct code, but it would at least deny T’lan and Corgan what they wanted.

“June,” he said pleasantly, “please cancel all coffee orders.”

Deep in the computer the program unspooled, reached out in a three-pronged movement. The first prong reset the ship’s weapons and propulsion controls, requiring command code access to unlock them. The second triggered a dump of the bridge logs to an emergency torpedo which was then launched. The third hesitated only a nanosecond to ensure the first two commands were executed, and then scrambled the command code database, rendering all ship’s officer’s command codes unusable until the database was rebuilt from the master codes stored at Utopia Planetia. After another nanosecond check, the program self-destructed, sending a command to erase itself, which was followed by a triggered command to overload the physical storage chip it was in residence on so that there was no chance of a recovery.

A voice that was not the computer’s normal voice – still female, but huskier, and with a hint of a Jamaican lilt hiding in its careful diction – replied through the speakers, “All coffee orders are cancelled, Daren.”

"James... check the ship's status." T'lan ordered.

"Sir..." James Corgan stammered dreamily after a moment.

T'lan peeked at the bridge, "What is going on? This precaution is not in my memory. It is not even in your security chief! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

The bridge erupted in chaos. One by one the LCARS screens deactivated, and then lit up in red as it printed lock out warnings and memory erasures. Consoles winked out of life, then stubbornly held onto it, but let nobody else touch it. James tried Ops, but was locked out. Then he tried navigation, tactical, the bridge chair... all locked out.

James wasn't feeling the frustration, caught in his servile haze, but T'lan's face contorted into a mockery of rage, seeing the self confident and smug captain before her.

"Do you think you have outwitted us with your resistance, mundane?!" T'lan snarled, nose to nose with the Captain, brandishing the phaser dangerously close to his chin, "We keep you alive as a courtesy, one you have already spent! Do you think yourself as a linchpin to our plans to control your ship? You only delay us by weeks, my dear captain. You are... expendable."

“I was expendable before,” Daren returned. “We all were. You made that abundantly clear.” He shook his head. “You really aren’t very good at this, are you?”

T'lan bowed her head, and said as passionlessly as her original host, "Good enough to infiltrate your ship and take vital members of your crew. Your statement hardly undermines my confidence, dear Captain. For your counterattack... I will have another. James!" She barked, "Contact the admiral. We have a saboteur. He is Captain M'Kantu. I'm afraid one of the Dithparu has enthralled him." The then gave M'Kantu a warning, baleful stare, slithering to his side, her hand on his shoulder, "One move, one flinch, one noise out of you, and I shall try the Vulcan's esteemed nerve pinch to silence you for good."

James communicated, "Commander Corgan to Admiral Proctor. Come in."

Not a bad plan, Daren had to admit. The Admiral’s codes might work – his spoiler program had never been meant to deal with an admiral aboard.

Corgan repeated the command, "Captain M'Kantu has been exposed to a psychic entity from DS5. He sabotaged the ship. Deputy T'lan and I caught him in the act, but were too late to stop him. I'm taking him to the brig."

"She is now in command." T'lan whispered to her enthralled human.

"Sir..." James uttered, "You are the highest ranking officer on board. You are... technically in command of this ship."

"Surprise Encounter"

With Rihannsu Attache Vrih Himne
And Lieutenant (jg) 8-Ball Hunter

Vrih Himne was not happy.

For the past twelve hours, his men had searched the ship for Major T'Riasu with no success whatsoever. No Starfleet personnel were around to help, as it seemed as if half the crew had gone aboard the space station. He had left his quarters to get some thinking time away from his bodyguards, and now he was lost. The corridors were almost deserted, and it had occurred to Himne that he would be vulnerable if T'Riausu to make a surprise appearance. Perhaps this stroll had not been such a good idea after all.

Himne suddenly heard footsteps from the end of the corridor and tensed, but he relaxed as he heard the unmistakable sound of Starfleet standard-issue boots. He breathed a sigh of relief - hopefully this person could direct him towards the nearest turbolift.

However he was in for another surprise - as he rounded the corner and saw 8-Ball. But it didn't look like 8-Ball - apart from the fact that she looked rather drunk, her eyes had this strange (yet seductive) intensity to them.

"8-Ball?" he said, giving her a concerned smile. "Are you feeling alright?"

~NO!!!!~ 8-ball screamed in the little cage inside her mind. ~I am emphatically NOT feeling all right! I'm being possessed by some alien bitches, well, bitch and dude, I guess, and I just had sex and killed somebody only I didn't really do it, and you can't hear any of this so you can't do shit and everything is NOT fucking peachy!~

Part of 8-ball (the good, not scary 8-ball, as she was beginning to refer to herself, because she was starting to have serious identity issues) felt annoyed and irritable, but her exclamation was actually for Anlaika's benefit. 8-ball was getting better at hiding certain thoughts and emotions from Anlaika and Unnamed Alien Bastard, and she didn't want them to know how much she was scared for Himne. The aliens both had access to her memories, so they knew who Himne was by looking at him, but they didn't know how much she actually cared about him. Good 8-ball knew that Anlaika might be more inclined to kill Himne, just to torture her host.

Of course, watching the psychotic bitch snuggle up to Himne was almost as torturous.

Bad 8-ball stepped closer to Himne, smiling at him. "Of course I'm all right," she said. "But I've missed you. . .very badly." She took his hand in hers and said, "Maybe if we went somewhere private, you could make me feel better."

Himne smiled right back, although he still found something a little strange about 8-Ball. But she was temperamental at the best of times, and he just put it down to that.

Although he was currently lost, he remembered passing the Senior Officers' messhall a minute or two ago. With all the senior officers onboard the station, it was deserted.

When they arrived in the messhall, 8-Ball was still holding his hand and looking at him with this seductive gaze. Himne frowned - it wasn't like 8-Ball to try and seduce someone in this way. He still thought she just wanted to talk to him about something important, that required them to be alone.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "So, what do you need to talk to me about 8-Ball? How can I make you feel better?"

"Who said anything about talking?" 8-ball asked, and started to kiss him.

Himne kissed her back, still thinking that this was somehow strange. They fell back onto one of the tables, intertwined.

As 8-Ball kissed him again, Himne suddenly moved away slightly. He was enjoying himself, but something was wrong - 8-Ball's movements seemed too... mechanical, almost emotionless. Usually she was quite aggressive, but now her body language just seemed unfeeling - although her smiling face suggested a different story.

He wondered if she was drunk (he couldn't smell any alcoholic odour coming from her) but that usually made her more aggressive in these types of these situations - not like she was now.

It was also strange of her to want to make love in such a public place. Sure, 8-Ball was demonstrative when it came to expressing her opinion publicly, but not when it came to matters of the bedroom. That wasn't to say he didn't like it - in fact, her unexpected forwardness excited him greatly. But he was still bothered.

"8-Ball," he said gently, not sure how to express his fears. "Don't you have to run the science department now? Aren't you in the middle of a shift?"

8-ball pulled back from up with an exasperated sigh. "I'm offering you my body, and you're bitching about work shifts?" She stepped further back from him. "Don't you like me anymore, Vrih? Or have you decided to move on? Maybe the sight of a woman's body just doesn't do it for you anymore." She looked down at herself, smoothing down her skin with her hands. "I still look pretty good, I think. So maybe it's not me at all. Maybe you just can't handle a woman."

She continued to smile at Himne, but there was nothing seductive in it now---she was going to enjoy hurting this one, insulting his honor and breaking down his pride, right before she cut into his skin. "Is that it, Vrih? Do you like men now? Is there a male lover you haven't mentioned? You should have told me you liked boys, baby. You could have invited him along, and then at least I'd have someone worthwhile in the sack."

Himne’s expression contorted with anger briefly, before it abruptly crumpled – he looked devastated. Surely 8-Ball didn’t mean what she was saying? But... then why would she say it?

“8-Ball,” he said softly, clenching his fists. “I... don’t understand. You... you said you loved me, and I admitted to loving you back. We love each other, so why are you saying these hurtful things?”

8-ball rolled her eyes at him. "Jesus, Vrih," she said. "Don't be so fucking dramatic. I mean, come on. Yeah, you're sort of cute, I guess. I mean, compared to that troll from Engineering who asked me out last week, and that creepy, bug-eyed guy in Ops who used to send me love letters, yeah, you're a pretty decent catch and all, but come on, no one was talking marriage or anything. And you really aren't that impressive in bed. . .I mean, sure, you satisfied me maybe once or twice, but you had to know that most of the time I was faking, right? And all that love nonsense. . .God, Vrih, you didn't really believe any of it, did you? You can't honestly think that I'D love YOU of all people."

8-ball stepped closer to him and started to smile again. "Oh, wow, you did," she said as she watched his face. "You actually thought I was being serious. That's sort of sweet, in a way." She kissed him on the cheek, smiling wider than ever. "Gosh, I hope we can ALWAYS be friends."

“I...” Himne trailed off, failing to keep the shock out of his voice. He couldn’t have been more wounded if she had hit him with a disrupter on full power.

“8-Ball,” he said, shaking his head. “I love you, and I... think you love me too. What I can’t understand is why you’re suddenly acting like this. What’s wrong?” He wasn't sure whether that was the truth, or whether he was just in complete denial.

8-ball's smile fell off of her face. She looked disgusted. "Don't you get it, Vrih? I was just using you. I don't love, I never did, and frankly, I'm sick of pretending. I don't have time to hold your hand while you go through your denial phase. I have other boys to attend to, you understand? I'm planning on giving Running Tree a nice, long, luxurious and naked visit, and then after that, who knows? But we're over, Vrih. We're done. And if you can't deal with it, well, maybe you should just take a phaser to your head and lessen the pain. God knows that no one else will care. Nobody gives a damn about you, Vrih. The only person who might have was the senator, unlikely but possible, and now he's deader than dead, baby. There isn't a single person on this ship who gives a rat's ass about you, least of all me. Maybe you should just do us all a favor and end it, finally."

She pulled out her own phaser, set it off stun, and leveled it at his head. "Are you man enough to do it yourself, or do you need me to do it for you?"

“No,” Himne said fiercely, shaking his head. But then he remembered how he had caught Running Tree and 8-Ball kissing passionately in the corridor. He remembered how 8-Ball had said it meant nothing, and he had eventually believed her.

Yet now... he didn’t know what to believe.

“8-Ball,” he said, doing his best to smile under the circumstances. “What changed suddenly? All I did was ask you about your shift, and you transformed from this beautiful, passionate creature into this evil monster. Was that such an insult, asking you about work?”

Evil 8-ball sighed. ~He really is thick-headed~ Anlaika thought. ~And he's getting awfully boring. I think I'll just kill him now.~

~Wait~ 8-ball screamed at her without thinking. ~Don't kill him. Please.~

~He won't be turned~ the other voice, the masculine, grumpy one said. ~We might as well kill him now and move on to someone who can actually further our mission.~

~Don't~ 8-ball said. ~Please, please don't kill him. You've already hurt him enough. He doesn't think I love him anymore. Dead, and he can't feel any of that pain. Alive, he can.~

Anlaika seemed to think about that. ~That's true,~ she said. ~But killing him will cause you pain. And pain is very enjoyable to me.~

~So I noticed~ 8-ball muttered. ~It's your fucking aphrodesiac. But please, please. Don't kill him. Just leave him alone, and I won't fight you or try to make things worse for you.~

~There's nothing you could do that would harm me, little girl~ Anlaika thought back. ~Still. . .I won't kill him. I think I'll enjoy his anguish over losing you.~

"Vrih," Bad 8-ball said, "let me explain." She stepped up to Himne and wrapped one arm around his neck. Himne still looked hurt and confused but he didn't move away. "I don't love you," she whispered in his ear. "I never will. And when you die, I want you to know that you have always been alone." Before Himne could pull back or say anything, 8-ball hit him over the head with her phaser.

The metal object smashed into Himne’s temple and he staggered back, clutching the side of his head. As he crumpled to the floor, he saw his fingers were stained with green blood.

“8-Ball,” he whispered, and lay still, eyes closed. However, as she leant over him, he suddenly leapt up with a sudden burst of strength and tried to knock the phaser out of her hand. At the same time, he tapped his comm badge with the other hand and shouted for his bodyguards.

“Himne to quarters-”

Himne's hand twisted 8-ball's wrist, making her drop the phaser and shriek out in entirely un-savvy-evil-alien pain. Himne went for the phaser but 8-ball kicked with both feet to shove him away from it. Unbalanced, Himne staggered, and 8-ball swept his legs out from under him, making him fall to his knees. Before he could get up again, 8-ball made a swift kick to his head, landing her foot under his jaw and slamming his body back into the wall.

~Jesus!~ 8-ball screamed in her mind. ~VRIH!~

"You hurt our wrist," Evil 8-ball said outloud, and then took Himne by the shoulders and slammed his head into the wall.

"That wasn't very nice," she said, and slammed his head back again.

As Himne was pounded into unconsciousness, the only thoughts going through his mind were ones of confusion. What had changed in 8-Ball? He realised, ironically, that, if he were to die now, his demise would be similar to that of the senator’s – a female lover turning out to be a murderer.

Then he was knocked out.

8-ball smiled as Himne's body dropped to the floor and leaned forwards to take his pulse. ~Stop your shrieking; he's still alive~ Anlaika told Good 8-ball as she kissed Vrih quickly on the forehead.

"Sweet dreams, my prince," she whispered to the unconscious Himne. "And when you wake up, remember how your girlfriend hurt and betrayed you. Remember that she doesn't love you, and never be able to trust her again."

8-ball straightened kicked the unconscious Himne in the stomach twice before leaving the quarters and dismissing him from her mind. "Now," she said, "let's see where more fun can be had."

"Stick A Fork In Me"

Ensign Mark Willington, Sciences
Ensign Caria Peioa, Counseling

***Crew Quarters, USS Galaxy***

Mark walked down the hall grinning in the satisfaction of a fine meal with his best friend. Life was good.

He and is lovely girlfriend had been together since High School. Graduated together and had gotten an assignment on the same ship. Which they had been on since the refit.

There was some food left over so he carried the plate down the corridor to Caria’s quarters. She was a Betazoid and while some were a bit freaked by that, he told some closer friends that it actually made the sex more intimate. Being with her was better than the other five girlfriends before her.

He rang the chime and waited for her melodic voice to welcome him in. But the door opened without it. He looked into the dark room confused, “Caria?”

He felt himself being telepathically drawn to go inside. A smile crossed his face as he felt the intentions in the transmission. “Well, I guess you’ll be hungry later, so I’ll put this away.” No sooner than he had placed the plate on the table did he feel her arms around him.

He tensed feeling something strange in his mind. “Um, Babe, you stressed?”

He felt her move around to his front and look at him with empty eyes. Before he could speak anymore, lips pressed against his.

The way she touched him, he stopped worrying about anything. Only one thing was on his mind.

~Join us.~ He heard several voices in his mind, jolting him away from the sensuous desire overtaking his body. He pushed her away and looked at her again.

“Join us!” Her mouth moved now, but there were the multitude of voices again. All but hers.

He shook his head and reached up to tap his com badge, only to be stopped by an unusually strong grip on his arm. He whelped as he felt it being pulled back and then screamed drowning out a sickening snap.

As he lay there in pain, the eyes of Caria searched and found a fork sitting on the table. The fork which she perused on Mark. She watched him scream in pain and betrayal as the fork lay deep in his chest, causing him to bleed to death.

The being that used Caria as an unwilling host wished for a quicker method, but her host did not seem to like phasers in her quarters.

After about five minutes, he didn’t seem to die fast enough, so she quickened it with a thrift, hard kick to his head. After checking the pulse, she confirmed his death and stepped out into the corridor.

There were many others who would be more willing. But there would be others who wouldn't. Her first step would be to find a good phaser or other quick killing weapon.

OOC: This post takes place after:
Baile: "A game of chess."
M'Kantu/Corgan/T'lan - "No Coffee For You"

"Beachhead"

Lt. Cmdr Brianna O'Shea
Cheif Engineer/ S.C.E. Liaison

::: Main Engineering :::

Anna was standing there sending out damage control teams when a young woman walked up beside her with a padd in tow. Looking over, "What's wrong, Elizabeth?" Anna asked, then looked at the padd the dark haired woman gave her. It was a message, clearly Elizabeth didn't understand it but Anna did. "Thank you.." Anna said moving over to a console.

She said nothing as she began to set up a program that would run on the deck where Baile was. She knew which deck he was on from the message. The message itself was a coded messages he had taught her on the jungle mission she had went on with Baile and the Crows. Once she got the lights off on his deck, she then sent out a spike that would make the emergency light flicker.

"Good luck, Baile.." She whispered and then turned and headed back toward the central console.

Anna could hear security clashing with the telepaths. Then something happened and all the consoles flickered out and was replaced with the red LCARS that signified they had been locked out.

"What the blooming hell!?" Anna said, ripping over to her station where she began to find out what happened.

"Navigation is offline... so is weapons, transporters... Commander, someone has accessed communications." Elizabeth said then looked over at the red haired woman.

"Not for long, they aren't communicating back and forth..." Anna said as she tapped in some commands in the communications console and sent a diagnostic that would take hours, cutting the channel to anyone off the ship. "We've got a few hours... lets try and sort all this out.." Anna said, as she looked around.

"Asses and elbows.. lets see them moving!" Anna snapped.

"Shadows" - Part 2

Commander Cassius Henderson, Executive Officer
Strategic Operations Officer: Hydran Sector Hander: Starfleet Intelligence

Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff, Security Patrol

Lieutenant JG Naranda Roswell, Engineer

Ensign Kio, Medical Officer

****

Command & Control Center , Deck 1, Deep Space Five

The whole thing enveloped Cora with a sense of fear and silent power. Something she felt from the moment they got close to DS5. Dobryin had been on the away team where D'Tinya-Bolivar was killed. So Cora said nothing to Krieghoff's earlier comment. Instead she stayed in her own world, intently focused on their mission. On some level however the Intelligence Officer couldn't help but wonder exactly what was happening to her or something had already transpired.

Cass Henderson picked his way through the shattered ruins of the command center - the bridge - of Deep Space Five. The room was more or less dark, even though power was slowly beginning to come back to the station. The lights had been shot out during the fighting that claimed the defenders. Bodies were strewn around the center, dead at their consoles or on the deck.

He grasped the half-melted railing and climbed out of the central pit that contained most of the work stations. He stepped gingerly over the fallen body of a security guard and into the office of the station commander, Commodore Jerdberg. Behind him, his team was trying to activate some of the workstations and aid in the restoration of power.

Cora stepped into what remained of the Command & Control center she had a first had look at devastation. Slowly yet carefully she made her way over to small alcove that served as home for the station's Intelligence staff when they were in this room. The stations appeared to be dead. A single occupant lying just to one side of it. If she hadn't witnessed similar things on the Pallas Athena, it would be more than just creepy but Cora also focused her attention on the job at hand.

Nara frowned. She had seen death before. She was never used to it though. She tried to ignore it as she got to work getting things working again. The collar seemed to chafe her, but at least she wasn't about to pass out from the sheer struggle to keep composure.

Victor ran a scan on the command center with his tricorder and frowned. Nothing. No living personnel other than the team he'd entered with, no energy fields, no transporter traces, nothing; only the dead and the lingering sense of madness. Just like... "Lieutenant Roswell," he said tonelessly, the quiet words seeming to be several times louder than they really were in the silence of the command center. "Run a scan on the following frequencies, please..." he listed off a series of side bands that only Engineering or Sciences tricorders were calibrated to check.

She looked up, hearing his voice. Even his voice made her hair rise. She trembled a bit as she touched the buttons on her tricorder. It definitely wasn't text book scans, but she was glad he thought of it. Well, she would rather anyone else think of it. Even that Vulcan she felt like disemboweling earlier. Which was odd. She'd have to figure out what all that was about later.

Nara started to tell him the readouts, but after hearing the tight squeak, she cleared her throat and tried again. This time she was able to effectively give him the information he sought. "No Jem'Hadar cloaking, but we did get some returns from..." She handed it to him and getting that much closer to him sent a chill up her spine.

Wordlessly, Victor took the tricorder and checked the readings. As Roswell had said, there were no Jem'Hadar cloak readings - he hadn't expected any, but it was always better to be safe and check, even if this didn't feel like the aftermath of one of the Dominion assault points he'd seen during the War. The other readings, though.... "Not a match for the ones from the Defiant," he observed. At least the readings from the station weren't. There was another set of readings in the listing that were closer though – much closer. His readings.

Well, he'd always known he was a monster.

Nara felt her telepathic walls were weak. The collar helped keep it at bay mostly, but Mr. Death was feeling a whole lot more potent than the time she talked to him in Ten-Forward. Yet she was determined to not act differently. She wasn't weak, no matter how she felt. If her body was weak, her mind and will-power made up for it. And vise versa.

"It's sort of like the Defiant incident, but not quite." She shivered and put her arms around herself looking around. "Something very surreal happened here."

Victor called up to Cass. "Sir."

Jerdberg's office was a disaster, as was the Commodore himself... or what was left of him. Cass carefully picked through the ruins of the man's office, trying to find a working terminal to access his personal logs from. He could override the lockouts with an SFI clearance, but he wasn't about to use one in front of the rest of the AT, of whom only Cora had the security clearance to know about his assignment.

So far, he hadn't been able to find a terminal... or really anything else of use. Jerdberg's body lay charred behind the desk, and he certainly didn't want to disturb it, so accessing the computer terminal was awkward at best. When he finally did, he discovered that monitor had been fried by an electrical surge. Probably the same one that had crisped the station commander.

Glancing back down at the dead officer, Cass willed away a wave of nausea. The psychic footprint of the room told him that Jerdberg had died violently, and his intuition was that the Commodore hadn't been alone when it happened. He heard Krieghoff call his name, and stepped back over to the doorway of Jerdberg's office. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Some readings you might want to look at, sir." Victor held up Nara 's tricorder. "They might be meaningful."

The station should have been quiet, empty of and sound outside of her teams movements and the soft hiss of static. But Kio's sharp hearing would catch a noise; a muffled footfall, a quick whisper, finger nails catching at metal plating, all just out of sight, around a corner or in a darkened space...

But Kio knew from the tricorder in her hand that there was no one else alive on the station, she should be logical, collected, coolly go about the work in hand. But logic was failing her and once that was gone... what then? She focused on the bodies about her, made her-self do her job and ignore the prickling upon her skin. "All of the injuries appear to have resulted from physical assault and federation weapons fire; it would appear that these officers killed each other. I can see no evidence of any other opposing force."

That vague, strange feeling within Cora began to become more intense as time went on. "Intelligence console is dead Sir. Whoever did this covered their tracks well."

Nara was trembling inside out, from her hair that stood on end to her feet that felt ready to run. At least her hands weren't ready to attack. She kept sharply turning her head as something crossed just out of her vision. "Something is here." She frantically grabbed for her belt reaching for the tricorder she momentarily forgot she handed off to Victor.

She heard something about a console being dead. That was her slap in the face. She was here to do something. She tried to focus enough to walk over to the console Cora was at and began running her diagnostic tools over it.

Victor looked around the room slowly, trying to piece together the sequence of events. Those three had been shot down from behind, without warning, which meant that they'd died first. The two by the life support consoles had been killed in the act of turning, which marked them as the second to die. After that... He moved to the center of the room and checked some angles of fire. "There were two initial shooters," he observed dispassionately. "One at the main entrance, and one there," he pointed at the communications console. "After they killed the personnel still at their posts, more people joined in - on both sides. It gets too confusing to make out who killed who after that, except where it's obvious." He indicated a pair of personnel locked in a death-embrace, having killed each other with improvised knives made from shattered LCARS panels. "Regardless of what the reasons were, there were two clear sides to the conflict."

Nara looked up at Victor, wondering what recounting it would do. Then again, they were also investigating. She's had to do that before. To some level. It was used to know who you were up against. The slight recollection of her times in the war on Sakaria brought some strength of bravery. But it left the split second later as Nara stood and turned about three times searching for something she swore was there. If they killed themselves, then what was this thing that would move away the instant she wanted to look at it.

Ghosts. That was the only explanation. Her body spasmed as an intense chill ran down her spine. She wondered if she even believed in ghosts.

She cocked her head as she looked at the console. She had to get that working. She opened the panel and when she touched a tool to it, it sparked. As she sat there dumbfounded, she looked at the exposed wiring and then at her tool. She moved forward to look at the wires and moved her tool where the handle reached out. Nothing happened. She touched it with her hand. Nothing. She moved the wires around and found a small blinking light attached to the panel.

As Cassius prepared to step back down into the pit and examine his team's findings, he paused in the middle of a step, and stared thoughtfully at a point on the ceiling. He could see *Them*. They entered the room from the far end, the way his team had come in - translucent spirits to the eyes of a human empath, swirling around his team. It was as if they were sizing them up.

Before he could open his mouth to point them out to the rest of the team, two of *Them* moved to merge with Kio and Roswell , easily slipping past any defenses that the pair might have had. Somehow, Cass knew that the collars, in addition to calming their minds, had lowered their mental defenses to *Them*, making them easy candidates for merging.

He wondered briefly how it was that he could have known that, with no advanced medical or psychic training. Then he realized that while he'd been thinking, his body had completed it's step and he was now standing beside Victor. Subconsciously, he realized that he was non longer in control, and that Victor was the only one who had escaped... Was it possession?

He glanced over at Cora Dobryin, who looked stunned, and felt a deep seated anger and resentment. Or was that the presence within him. ~Yes,~ it seemed to think to him. ~That one had hunted me for an eternity. We will need a distraction.~

Fate provided that distraction, and the manipulative, analytical, tactical mind of Cassius Henderson, with a Dithparu fugitive at the helm, took full advantage of it.

"It might be meaningful, sir," Victor offered as he handed Cassius Nara's tricorder, the damning readings still displayed there, "if we ascertained the identities of the individuals and looked for some common linking factor. We can't link to the Galaxy's records with the ion storm, but there should be shielded systems containing the information on the station if we can access them."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Cass heard himself saying. It was the strangest feeling, hearing something from your mouth that you weren't saying. Enough to test a man's sanity. He willed himself to take control, but the presence was there, surrounding and forcing him back down inside. ~No. We have to escape, and we can't do that if one of us is fighting. Don't fight.~

The presence's thoughts were eerily calming, and Cass found himself unable to find a logical reason to disagree. Indeed, escape seemed like a *very* good idea now, lest he be caught by whatever had possessed Cora. "Go through the records. Dobryin can help you, with her Intel clearance. If you find anything, call me. I'm going to go down to the shuttlebay. Commodore Jerdberg relayed all of his logs to an escape shuttle there, and I want to know what's in them."

Victor's frown was immediate. "Aye, sir." He nodded to Cora. "If you can unlock the personnel database, Lieutenant, we'll get started." He turned back to Cassius, who had yet to take the tricorder. "I'm not certain that going by yourself is a good idea, sir…." His frown deepened as he realized that he was talking to Henderson ’s retreating back.

Nara 's eyes blinked several times. The blinking light had her attention for a moment before a smile crossed her lips. She let the wires fall back into place and stood. The eyes then scanned the room and rested on Victor and Cassius. Those eyes narrowed a moment, but softened before stepping to approach him. "There is something blocking access. It would take someone experienced with dismantling bombs to safely get the devices removed."

Ensign Kio had not moved a muscle since the change had taken place. She was still there, still looking ahead of her with her own eyes but now she had no more decisions to make. She was there for the ride and perversely she felt an enormous sense of relief as there would be no more fighting the entity, no more decisions of her own to be made, she had lost.

The entity within her had no interest in Kio, her body was merely a tool towards its own ends and perhaps this was why it made no attempt to disguise its intentions from her. It was going to kill and then kill again with no regard for Kio's body or soul. But for now it waited, watching events unfold about them, aware that others of it's kind were also present.

"Try accessing another console, Lieutenant Roswell," Victor suggested. "The aggressors cannot have booby-trapped them all or they would have been detected immediately."

Inside Nara , a mind revolted. ~DO something Kreighoff! You of all people can!~ Immediately, even before immediately, she was slammed by the one controlling her every movement and word. The face nodded, but the trapped mind kept trying to fight.

~You'll just wear yourself out.~ It warned her. Nara could feel the walls. It was locked tighter than Dhani's had been. ~You're weaker than you like to admit. Had your past taught you nothing about fighting a losing battle?~ It used her body effortlessly as she found herself walking toward the consoles, beginning to check them. ~It's been fun watching you fight and suffer, but we don't have time for this, princess.~ Before Nara could choose to respond, a reeling pain attacked her mentality.

Nara probed the being that had her in such bonds as she felt her own mind being probed in every inch. Places she didn't even go herself. She sensed the plans being made. Memories flooding and plots being schemed made her ache to do something. But she couldn't.

She struggled. She screamed. She telepathically called out, only to have it bounce back in an almost mocking tone.

~You don't even faze me. By the way, I already know a few targets. Oh, but you can already guess who they are!~ The face of Naranda Sol Roswell smiled, hidden by the console.

The whole experience left both Cora and the entity within her momentarily disoriented. Jumping from species to species took some adjustment. She had tried one console and then the other before she was successful. However Dobryin's possessor wanted nothing more than to get the task finished and move onto more important things. Everything that happened occurred out of her immediate control as if she'd been forced to observe.

Victor frowned down at the still humming tricorder in his hand – and the new readings being displayed there, readings that were different than a moment before. He thumbed the controls and compared them… different. The energy readings from the three women in the room with him were different than they’d been a moment before, as if something had overlaid itself on top of them, filling them, changing them. He didn’t have a medical tricorder, but he surmised that their encephalic patterns would have to be different as well.

At least, he decided as he started to set the tricorder down on the counter, he knew why there had been two sides to the combat now.

Cora stuck around just long enough to direct Victor's attention to the data he needed then took off as a hunter would after its prey. ~You will be mine.~

Victor frowned as Dobryin left the room. He’d have to deal with her later. Better this way, though. Three-to-one odds were chancy, especially when he didn’t know what changes the new owners of the women had made in response time and skill at arms. As the muzzle of his rifle came up and his finger started to tighten on the trigger, he hoped they weren’t immune to stun effects now. He didn’t like disintegrating fellow crewmen if he could help it.

The entity inside Nara recognized that Krieghoff was suspicious. He wouldn't be brought down easily. Anyone could sense that about him – but he was ONLY suspicious. Best to wait till there were more to take this one down. Better to play out this woman. But she had to leave. She stood and looked toward the door, "I surmise you've got it handled here." She looked at the two remaining people and walked out the door. The words really meant for the Vulcan body and the being possessing her. This one's own kind.

Nara uselessly pushed against the walls. ~He could crush you! That's why you run.~

The being rolled Nara 's eyes. "Oh right. Hush now and enjoy the show."

"Gather Your Trust"

By Commander James Lionel Corgan C
hief of Security, USS Galaxy

Location: USS Galaxy, Transporter Room 3

Time: Before T'lan and James' meeting with the Captain.

Soundtrack: "6 Underground" By Sneaker Pimps

Another mind joined her enthrallment, its dominated essence deliciously sinful to her new senses. The transporter officers she controlled struggled, but their mundane minds unprepared for the psychic onslaught.

Now their plan was coming to fruition. The controlled security chief called a select few from a list on the starship's computer. Soon they had plenty of new hosts, each in different shape, angrily fighting the presence, or giving in to the struggle. With trust in their security chief, they joined the transporter parties.

Hearing their last screams before the Dithparu violated their core beings over her communicator device brought a giddy thrill.

With a subtle command, T'lan ordered the transporter officer to bring back the new arrivals. Their material bodies gathered forth in a nimbus light, and were made whole again. Each host surveyed themselves and their surroundings, both enjoying the new sensations they offered and bewildered by the transistion.

"Welcome, friends." T'lan announced to the new arrivals, "Do not be alarmed. I was one of the first to procure myself a host. You will find these bodies useful and strong. The Betazoids among you will have the most familiarity. For the Vulcans like myself... worry not that cannot instinctively touch minds. You are strong in other ways, as I myself has discovered. For now, meet the one known as Elessidil. He will guide you."

Compliantly, the newly adapted hosts walked away, still amazed at their transition. T'lan walked away with a sense of accomplishment, a sense of control, though she was yet to be allowed into the inner circle of Dithparu. Her efforts, and the psychic defenses of her Vulcan host would give her leverage. She was one of them, an equal to any of them. That she knew.

With her powers and her thrall, who could stop her?

But not all was done. T'lan approached Commander Corgan, as he blankly follow the new hosts, his hand always close to his phaser during these tense times. She said, commandingly, "We have difficulty finding others. But there is one source we have yet to utilize. James, I want you to help me access this new source of hosts. I want to know... how can we use the child psykers in this ship's school?"

James Corgan said nothing.

"Corgan." T'lan badgered, "Tell me now."

Corgan's face scrunched. He was about to utter a word, but choked on it.

"James!"

T'lan's hand clawed at his head, and in a one handed grip with fingers lancing at his temple she pinned James mightily on the wall. James Corgan grunted, his face crunched up in grimacing mask of pain, hisses escaping from tight lips as the Vulcan leaned closer, her piercing eyes boring into his own.

"Resist not." T'lan ordered, "For my mind is more powerful than yours, mundane. You cannot resist my commands. To do so will bring you much more pain. I will flood your mind with your traumas until you become a living automaton! I will submerge the consciousness of your friend and my host so far into mental obscurity that she'll never see, feel, or live again as an intact soul! Do you hear me?! Give me what I want!!!!"

The baleful, malevolent expression of T'lan parted. She smiled, then laughed. Disappointment creased on James face, melted away, then went back to its servile, placid pallor. "Dear James... how could you hold that back from me? Why... I have touched your mind yet I still no so little about you. And my host... though she holds..." Her finger traced a path up and down his chest, feeling sinfully delighted though her teasing would be more appreciated by one of her own (Elessidil?), "...some loyalty and affection for you, knows so little about you herself. Why... she didn't know about your... mate. A schoolteacher. An different being... and Andorian? Why, you're not very discerning, James. But that is for another time. For now... I want to meet her. You will arrange it, will you?"

James Corgan amenably nodded.

"Good, James. Help me enthrall her."

*********

"Enter!"

Mika was found at her quarters easily enough. The computer was accurate in its search, and T'lan found it to be very intuitive. Their turbolifts made for quick transit. The race that built this ship was highly advanced, if exasperatingly mundane in a mental sense. The multiple races that comprised this ship's crew also amazed the Dithparu in T'lan's body. None were prizes of conquest or slaves from birth. All came according to their own will. And the different race interactions... a human commander and a Vulcan security officer walking side to side, acting as if equals in all but rank, none batted an eye at this behavior. T'lan noted that this society was socially advanced, but to be so weak in mental powers she had to ask herself not why, but how.

By invitation, James was first to go into Mika's quarters. As a new arrival on the ship, she still had containers of personal effects piled in stacks all over her quarters. What she did unpack was books and electronic texts, lots of texts, arranged in neat little shelves. The standard living quarter décor was still intact, but the occasional item from her life dispersed itself on a table, a wall, a top shelf, or anywhere else there was room (and there was plenty). She had a painting of some alien script over her bed. Reaching into T'lan's memories, she identified it as Andorian good luck calligraphy. A small pedestal held an Andorian Ushann-tor, a special kind of one handed, curved icepick similar in usage to a katar.

Beside her door was a painting T'lan found exquisitely crafted. It was an Andorian woman, with ethereal birds flying upwards to the imagined heavens. The woman wore an orange robe with blue ribbons, trim, and a wide blue sash around her slim waist. She held in both hands a tan colored umbrella with a polished wood handle. The robe slipped at one of her arms, showing a bare, turquoise, lightly muscled shoulder. Her snowflake hued hair was cut short, and her face showed a sign of contentment and comfort in her sensuality.

It took a moment for T'lan to realize that picture was Corgan's mate.

What she saw come out of the bathroom was different from the image on the picture. Instead of the fine robes and the demure confidence, she saw a tiny woman, unimpressive in her simple gray sweatshirt and... a long sweatshirt at that, close to her knees, and she looked upset.

T'lan was far from impressed.

"James!" She called with a thin, airy voice, tiny and timid as a mouse, "I did not expect you. Your mission was long. How well did it go?"

~"Answer her, James. It went well." T'lan thought.

James mimicried, "It went well, Mika."

~"And you are sorry for being away from her."~

"I'm sorry for being away. It was important."

Mika tiptoed to her lover. Her arms twined around his back, and her head rested on his chest, "No, James. No. You don't have to be sorry. You are security chief, yes? You have responsibilities... like I have to the children. A sherrif and school... marm, is it? I understand." She then looked dead centre at T'lan, "Who is your friend, dear James?" ~"Tell her."~ T'lan thought.

Corgan took a momentary pause. Mika looked up to him with concern and worry until he spoke, "She is Lieutenant jg. T'lan, one of my deputies and a member of my Hazard Team. We were talking about our mission. She wanted to meet you."

"Greetings." T'lan bowed her head, trying her best to hide a fox's grin.

Mika looked oddly at T'lan, but warmed up to her quickly, "James has told me a lot about you, T'lan. I am glad to finally meet you, for I have heard so much that I had to guess when he would bring me to you. James! You never told me your deputy is so lovely! Are you always in the company of beautiful women and when can I share in that luxury, my love?"

James deadpanned, "Ummmm... I don't know."

Mika raised her eyebrow, "Oh?"

T'lan stepped up, "I am Vulcan. The recreation you propose would be... illogical."

Mika paused, but then laughed. "Oh! Hah! My my T'lan, I will prove the naysayers of Vulcan humour wrong by quoting you anytime. Come, sit! I am glad to have company, for today was trying. How was your day, James?"

~"What do I tell her?"~ T'lan questioned herself, ~"That she is about to lose her mind and her love while I take her home and the children she teaches? I'd delight in her reaction, but not now. Tell her something. Don't tell her the truth."~

James was indecisive, but answered, "Rough day."

~"She senses something wrong, James! Be careful! See how she looks at you? She is worried. You are not acting like yourself! What would you do..."~

"You had a rough day too?" James asked.

Mika said, "James, I have. I cannot presume to say your day was worse than mine, but I... ran into Atole Tekri earlier."

"Oh? How is she?"

"Herself and the baby are well. But she disturbs me, James. She hates me, and she went out of her way to make me upset. She is as you humans say... a harpy. A miserable, bitter old harpy. I do not like her!" She piped, but then held her temper, "I am sorry! But she has upset me so, James. We have to do something about her and the child."

~"Comfort her."~

James stroked her hair, without feeling, like a mechanical arm going back and forth. Mika didn't look up, but nestled her head in his chest once more, "James... we have to talk sometime about our future. I feel like our relationship is in danger. James, what are we to do?"

~"Don't worry. Comfort her. I will be there shortly."~

"Don't worry about it." James caressed Mika's trembling form, "Sit down. I'm right here with you."

"Thank you, James." Mika snuggled, emerging to talk to T'lan, "I am sorry to be like this in front of you. You must think this outburst of emotion is... illogical, yes? But I am Andorian, and though I know my temperament is gentle at best there are times when I feel... high strung and emotional. Forgive me."

T'lan slinked to the crew quarter's lone couch. ~"Take her to the couch, James."~ "No need to beg forgiveness, Mika. Just because we are unemotional does not mean we cannot empathize with emotional beings. You have every right to express your emotions. You should sit down. Join us."

"Join us." James insisted.

Mika agreed, "Yes... I will join you. I need to sit down."

Mika placed herself in the middle of the couch, with James on her right and T'lan on her left. James got up and replicated tea, placed the platter on the coffee table, and rejoined them. Mika rested her head on his shoulder, and he uneasily draped his arm on her shoulder.

"James?" Mika asked, "Something is not right with you. Are you sure you are ok?"

James arm closed around her, "I am ok, my dear. Don't worry."

Then Mika's eyes lit up in alarm. James arms tightened into a vice grip, holding her in place. T'lan crawled up to her like a predator, leering closer, her hand snaking to the Andorian's face.

"James? James?!?" She panicked, "What are you two doing with me? You didn't have to force anything."

T'lan pursed her lips and placed a finger to them, "Shhh... Mika. Try not to struggle. I want to share something with you."

"NO!" Mika shrieked, jamming an elbow into James' stomach. Corgan lurched, coughed, and let go of the tiny Andorian, whom took the opportunity to roll out of the couch and stand back up. James tried to clutch her again, but with mongoose speed her foot lashed out and kicked him in the stomach, hurling him into T'lan as she was rising. T'lan caught James with steady Vulcan strength, so both didn't collapse.

Panicked, frightened, a hunted animal, Mika ran for the door.

T'lan and James both drew phasers and fired.

Mika crumpled, a sliver of her consciousness held on, her physical body in spasms.

As James and T'lan stood over their catch, Mika's eyes glistened with tears. There was betrayal in her eyes. "Why James..." She sobbed, "Why?"

Coldly, T'lan indulged her, "Your lover is gone. You will be gone as well."

**********

"Where are we going?" Asked a Betazoid child that Mika escorted hand in hand. The child looked puzzled by the adult's lack of transparency, but like the rest of the children, was excited.

Mika replied, "We are going on a field trip. We knew you children weren't feeling very well lately, so my boyfriend thought it would be nice to show you children something remarkable on the space station."

"What is it?" Asked a Vulcan child, barely past eight.

Mika leaned over to the child, "It is something special. You'll see. Come with me. We'll show you something marvellous! All you have to do is step on the transporter pad."

The children lit up in smiles. A couple of the children had civilian parents that 'Mika' recruited as chaperones. Nobody suspected a thing yet, though the suddenness of the event and the odd hour was a question that was commonly asked. But when James and his security officer T'lan explained everything, all doubts were put to rest. Everyone was happy.

T'lan was happy, most of all.

"Energize." T'lan ordered. The psychics disappeared into the asteroid structure. Over her comm. channel she heard them all scream. She delighted in the screams. It was the sound of her success.

"Now..." She whispered to her thralls, "The Captain."

"What a Mess"

Ops Team:

Lt. JG Tarin Iniara (Operations)

Lt. Michael Jamson (Operations)

Lt. Raven Darkstar (Tactical)

Michael McDowell, Civilian Engineering Specialist (Engineering)

2nd Lt.Branwen London (Marines)

Ensign Paulo DiMillo (Intel)

When they finally got to the Ops center Paulo sat down at a control station. He would try and recover any records he could from the station. While they talked Paulo had finally been able to get into the locked out Computer core and started to play some of the logs. "Lt.(JG) Tarin, I have been able to get into the logs, but a lot look like they have been tampered with at a command level rank."

"Interesting..." Iniara arched an eyebrow and turned toward Paulo, slowly making her way across the room to where the Intelligence officer was working. The nagging uneasy feeling in her head was still there, still pressing into every corner of her mind, but as long as she kept busy she could control it. Ignore it. "Show me what you've found."

Paulo nodded and started to bring up the few records he had been able to make sure were accurate and unaltered. The image on the screen showed what looked like an asteroid floating towards the station and a couple of fighter craft tailing it, doing scan most likely. The feeling of fear set it self up right at the front of his head. "I think that is the object that the Hazard team is going in to investigate."

Jamson glanced up to the screen, from his crouching position, and was surprised, "That's a big rock.…” He was setting up some of the equipment, like the pattern enhancers and field modulators. These would enable them all to set up an emergency transporter area, so they could all get out of there quickly if something happens. Of course, that was a bit difficult with the transporter systems on the Galaxy not working at the moment. To go around this problem, the team would have to restore local transporter systems on the station, and use the pattern enhancers boosted by the modulators, to cut through the interference and transfer them to another place on the station, using two transporters. Jamson would have to place some, in another target area, since this was the source.

Iniara froze as the image came on screen. Her throat tightened as she watched the video showing the huge rock being guided into place. "This...it's..." she began. Breathing suddenly became very difficult, talking a near impossibility. Finally she tore her eyes from the screen, turning to look at the opposite wall. "Turn it off...play something...else." Then she bit her lower lip and looked up at the ceiling, trying to prevent herself from screaming.

Paulo started to play the next record. It looked like it was from the base commander, but there was no audio. "Damn," Paulo said. "Looks like the audio file has been deleted. It's going to take the computer some time to tell what he is..." at the same time a phaser shot zoomed right past the commander's head and into a nearby console. As soon as that hit he deck and returned fire. "Whatever happened here... it wasn't pretty."

"A phaser shot???" Jamson looked surprised. "We should look at the station's sensors, and find whether energy beams were fired earlier. That would give us some sort of an estimate to the number of discharges from energy weapons, and by doing so, the number of people or invaders involved as sensors on board must have been configured like any other standard sensors on any vessel or Starbase, to log any energy discharge". Pulling out his portable tactical display, Jamson set it up next to one of the consoles and his tricorder and created a link between the two. "We should also check the weapons lockers, and find out how many weapons were taken," he finished and then continued. "Branwen, Lieutenant Darkstar...this should help us detect any lifeforms in the vicinity. We should all cross link our tricorder with it, so we'll get accurate real time readings". The portable tactical display used active sensor reading from standard tricorder to project and present it into a three dimensional image of the environment. The range was only limited by the tricorder and various radiation types or jamming of some sort. Real time updates from tricorder, provided by the high speed optical data network, ODN fibers, which are connected to a more dense array of omnidirectional holodiodes, are transferred through a flat screen. Dynamic resolution allows users to zoom in and out, and use the integrated tactical scales in the device.

Michael left the others to do their task and walked over to the station that was designated as the Engineering station. It was not too hard to find, as he had been able to look over some blueprints of the station. First thing on the list was to restore power. That in itself would be hard enough, partially because of his lack in experience in working on this kind of system, and because it was not known to be a simple system to repair. "I'll see if I can get us some power from the emergency system. At least that should give us some more light to work with."

"Catastrophic emergency procedures weren't activated..." Jamson accessed a console with his tricorder, back up with a sarium krellide power cell. "None of the reactor’s chambers were crippled, and there are no signs of EPS energy loss. Moreover, there is no log of any auxiliary power systems coming on line to compensate for power loss. This is really strange".

Michael raised his left brow. "You can say again. Makes you think why the whole system is down in the first place. He tapped a few buttons. No response. At least, not the one he wanted to have. "Something is wrong nevertheless. I can't seem to execute the pre-run sequence for powering up the system."

Jamson moved on. "Logs indicate high temperature and pressure of contained plasma within the chambers. This must have been caused by the higher detonation rate of the deuterium pellet stream rises. This could be caused by sabotage, external threats, or fusion system processors failure. Either way, it must have activated the auto-emergency shutdown procedures. The computer is programmed with special AI algorithms that monitor 3000 separate sensor inputs. There are 357,540 conditional combinations of various processes such as anomalies in temperature pressure, laser detonation, the EPS constrictors...and more."

"Sabotage?" Iniara asked.

"According to the computer, it has more than 4000 possible scenarios for threats, including sabotage" Jamson answered. "That would also rule out rapid overload of the reactors...there is no full race mode of the radiative cooling bed in the generator shell. Manual shutdown is also out of the question. Authorized command and evacuation protocols were altered. This is really weird..."

"Altered? Then someone had bad intentions? That sabotage scenario is beginning to sound more and more likely," Michael said. "Let me see, if I remember it correctly, activating this backup system should do the trick." Michael activated a subspace switch by triggering it with a special frequency sent out by a pen-like device. Slowly, one by one, light sprang on around the room. "There we go. Much better, right?"

"Much better," Iniara said at last, switching her light off now that it was no longer needed. One step closer, she thought. One step closer to getting off this station, and away from whatever was here with them. "How are we coming on the main power grid?"

Michael shifted his attention to the main Engineering console. "I'm starting on that now. First I have to figure out what's wrong with it. For now, we have to do with the emergency backup system." He felt relieved there was at least some light now. He may be a grown man, but this environment just did something to him, and the darkness just added to it. Despite this, he tried to ignore it. Not that it helped much. It seemed he was becoming a bit of an emotional wreck lately. Anger, fear, sadness, he had experienced all, especially in the last days.

Jamson frowned, "Sir, Michael. If we would have access to the main chambers at the reactor section, it would be a lot easier to understand what the hell happened and why auto shutdown was initiated. In the meantime, I believe all we could do, is use what's left of the power in the laser detonator’s large bank of capacitance start up cells. We'll have to draw the power from there somehow, and use it until we figure out a way to start the whole fusion process again and receive energy though the power distribution network. We'll have to send someone down there or contact another away team on the station."

"I don't recommend that Lieutenant. You just pointed out that there's a high temperature and pressure of contained plasma within the chambers. Working there might pose a considerable danger to you. I first want to try to see what has gone on there that created that specific situation and try to get things to default operation mode." Michael knew that Jamson’s option would save a lot of time, and he would've agreed normally. But not this time under these circumstances.

"So, maybe we can repair the emergency generators at the auxiliary section? It should be situated a deck or two below us, right next to the main atmospheric and gravitation systems and would give us enough power to work with. At least, for the essential systems." Jamson looked at Iniara.

Michael nodded. "Good idea. I'm all for that."

"Is there anything I can do to help besides keeping watch?" Branwen asked.

As Bran asked that Paulo dropped to his knees. "GAAAAAA!" He yelled. After everyone had looked at him with shock he stood up like nothing had happened.

Michael looked to his left. He wondered what got to the Intelligence officer. It did sound like he was in pain.

"Paulo, what's wrong?" Branwen went to his side immediately.

"Are you ok Ensign?" Jamson turned to look at Paulo.

"Everything is fine," the calmer Paulo said. The Dithparu had had to make a final push to take control and it had caused some pain for the subject, but he was now in control. This conduit wasn't as open as some of the others from this ship called Galaxy. It made its life a little harder, but easier because he couldn't detect them like some of the others could. "I will be fine." Now to pick a target.

"Lieutenant London, how would you like to help me with generators and the auxiliary systems?" Jamson asked. He hoped Lieutenant Tarin would overhear him and agree. They had to restore some power for the time being.

"Yes sir. I should be able to do that." Like everybody she had some basic engineering courses at the Academy. And with somebody there to tell her what to do, she would be able to do the easy stuff. Branwen would prefer to be busy now; this place was giving her the creeps. Not that she would ever admit that.

"If you don't mind, I would like to come," Paulo piped up. "I can not get to the Engineering computer core from here, and finding out how the station shut down would make it easer to repair it." He showed no signs of it so far, being taken over, but if he could get on this team he could easily talk the other two into joining him.

"Take care of it, Michael. Quickly." Iniara whispered, still rooted to the same spot on the floor. She could feel something in the room changing, feel something in DiMillo changing, but she couldn't do anything about it. She felt like she was being held prisoner by something, but whether it was an external force or just her own fear and inadequacy she couldn't say.

"Ok...then it's settled. We'll need some of these," Jamson pointed to some of the cases he'd brought along. "We'll have a chance of setting the transporter emergency destination area I've wanted, down there."

Experiencing a long forgotten yet familiar rush, Jamson enjoyed it tremendously. He felt like a warrior again, checking his equipment and weapons once again before they headed out to the auxiliary area. The gush of blood, adrenaline and endorphins was intoxicating. It's been so long since he felt this way that a mild sedative looked like the only solution to calm him down.

Paulo went over the equipment quickly, at the same time tweaking it to his own use. He would make sure they never saw it coming.

Jamson explained to the small team, "Keep your tricorders open and linked with the portable tactical display, so Lieutenant Darkstar will have a wider range of where we're going and alert us if something goes wrong. He'll see it before we do."

Branwen nodded she understood.

"Branwen. You have the lead," the operations officer said.

"Yes sir." She fell into scout position, checking the corridors before she motioned the others to follow her. Paulo took up a position behind her and walked.

Jamson followed as the third man behind. The corridors were shrouded with complete darkness, with nothing in plain sight but the metallic sounds of their magnetic boots, thumping onto the floor clumsily. Luckily for the away team, they had their night glasses on. These standard Federation units, unlike many other variations invented on hundreds of worlds, were Terran in design and similar to an ordinary pair of sunglasses. They were made of lightweight materials, and allowed the team members to perceive infrared light, possessed safeties such as transforming the glasses into darkening sunglasses by using specialized sensors, and thus preventing users from becoming temporarily blind in certain situations. A highly appreciated and useful feature on some of those, used by Hazard Teams on Starfleet vessels, was the tactical heads up display, which was connected to a tricorder or portable tactical display. But wearing the glasses while using this feature produced massive headaches to humanoids, making it less popular then it was meant to be. As advanced as the glasses were, they still needed some sort of light source to see clearly in the dark, so in late designs, IR and white light modules were incorporated into the units, allowing the users to have crisp clear vision in total darkness.

A strange sound caught Jamson off guard. Turning quickly towards it, he lifted his weapon and aimed with high anticipation. He could feel his heart pumping heavily, at increased rate. 'Time for battle!' he prepared himself for what was coming. To his unfortunate luck, it was a simple ordinary sliding door. Lowering his rifle, he gasped and switched, disappointed, to his tricorder. He could have sworn the hissing sound he heard was the one of the same sliding door. "No power source?" he whispered. Was it his imagination? Maybe the rush and gush was too overwhelming for the aging warrior.

Several minutes later, still trying to find their way through the dark corridors and hallways, Jamson suddenly stopped the team "Wait!" He activated and deactivated his heads up display alternately, trying to prevent the upcoming headache. However, a red flashing blip on his glasses a few seconds ago caught his attention, and now it was gone. The red image on his radar looked as if it was just behind another maintenance door. "I think I saw something...scanning," he said loudly and walked slowly to the door, forgetting about the comm system and activating both the heads up display and tricorder. "Lieutenant Darkstar...do you have anything on the portable tactical display?"

There was a brief pause and then the rumbling voice of the tactical officer came across the comm.. “Negative.”

"Bloody technology...I must be imagining. Jamson out." The proud officer was now beginning to feel embarrassed. "No power too..." he kicked the door angrily. "Give me a second, I'll open the door manually or blow it away if I have to." Releasing the manual latch to the left the metal doorway, Jamson pulled, lowered and raised it quickly which caused to the door to open slowly. Scanning away, he could see nothing of importance, but an entrance to a Jeffries tubes junction. "I believe we've found a shortcut," he said and signaled Branwen and Paulo to follow.

*** Meanwhile at the Ops center ***

Was he imagining things or were all those noises for real? Until now Michael had heard about five different ones, ranging from a hiss of an opening or closing door (but not really nearby), to scratching sounds (like when metal slides over on metal). It was really getting to him. He found it hard to concentrate.

~Huh? What's this...?~ Thomas had just been able to get the internal sensor system online and was doing some diagnostics to make sure it worked properly. But now sensors reported life signs, but not like anything he'd seen before. They appeared to be there for really short time periods...while phasing in and out of their continuum. ~Come on, this can't be true. I think I really AM seeing and hearing things.~

"Uhm...sensors are back online, but I think something's not right. They appear to not be working properly, or so it seems." Michael finally said to everyone that was still in the Ops Center.

From her vantage point in the center of the room, Iniara swayed back and forth slowly, her head lolling back and forth. She didn't know what- or who- she was fighting against, but she knew it was strong, it was persistent, and it wanted in. And the thing would eventually get its way if she didn't get out of there.

"Nothing's right, nothing's right," she mumbled. She took a careful step toward the door. And another. Ignoring the rest of the room's occupants, she continued to shuffle along, muttering all the while. "Nothing, nothing, nothing's right..."

Then, suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes wide, Iniara spun towards McDowell. "They're coming," she intoned. "We have to leave. Now. Oh, Prophets."

Michael had been following Iniara as soon as she started to behave strangely. It looked like she was about to faint. He didn't understand what she was referring to with 'Nothing's right'. What was wrong with her? "Lieutenant? Are you not feeling well?"

Her eyes rolled back in her head, leaving nothing visible but the pearly white sclera. And with that, the leader of the away team went limp, fell sideways, impacted against the floor and rolled lifeless onto her back.

"Lieutenant?" Michael stood up and was with Iniara within a second. "Lieutenant!? Do you hear me?" He turned towards the others in the room. "Someone get me a Medical Tricorder and the Med. Kit. She looks like she's in some kind of shock." Michael had not much experience in the Medical field and wasn't even sure Iniara was in shock, but he sure wasn't about to do nothing. "And where the hell is Darkstar?"

*** Back at the Jefferies tubes ***

Opening an upper hatch, a compression rifle peeped through the opening cautiously revealing a Starfleet Marine behind it. 2nd Lieutenant London made sure there was no visible threat before jumping into the last empty shaft on her team's way to the auxiliary section. Branwen told the others to wait before she scouted out the rooms to see if it was safe and only then did she motion the others to come in.

"All clear?" Jamson looked from above, hanging upside down.

"Yes Sir" she replied and switched on a light on her weapon. Branwen didn't talk much on their way to the secondary power systems, nor did Paulo. But when Lieutenant London did speak up, the veteran operations officer noticed a strange accent in her voice, a dialect he didn't recognize. Jamson wondered if it was his charming personality that kept them silenced, a rank issue, or were they just concentrating on the mission. He's been on plenty of away missions in his time, but there was something frightening about a derelict space station in the middle of space, with no power or crewmembers, when all you could hear is the echo from your own footsteps and the scanning sounds of the tricorders.

"Lieutenant..." Jamson climbed below and joined Branwen, "How long have you been a marine?"

"Almost a year now, sir." She said in her Welsh accent. Bran was still trying not to look nervous. Here she was barely out of the Academy, being one of the first marine shrinks in the fleet and now also temporary commander of the marines on a ship the size of Galaxy. It was a bit much. She wondered if that was what caused the headaches. And this creepy place. She could have sworn they were not alone but her eyes and ears showed her nothing.

"Really?" He looked surprised, "You look young, but I didn't think you were that young..." Pulling out a power cell from his tricorder, he passed it to London before moving to a console, which was accessible just behind the ladder. "Would you do the honors? Connect the tricorder to the console, that should give us enough power to get some light around here, and then plan our way inside the auxiliary section".

"Yes sir, no problem." She followed his instructions to the letter. Connecting the tricorder and creating light. That was a bit better. But still the creepy feeling did not go away and she shivered.

"Great..." Jamson struggled with some of the cases they carried around. He joked while Ensign DiMillo passed him some of the luggage from the upper deck through the opening "Not exactly what you would expect from an away mission, Ensign? Carrying baggage on an abandoned starbase?"

"I've done worse," Paulo simply replied, but it wasn't Paulo. In truth he had done worse, and this was the worst of it all. Paulo sat in his own mind, trapped, unable to get out. This thing had taken over, and it was now in full control. He could feel the actions he was going to take, and he had no way to fight or stop him. He wasn't strong enough. Not only had he failed his own family, but he was now failing his crew, his shipmates, and most if not all would die because he was not strong enough. As Paulo came to this realization he started to fight, harder then he ever had before. He could tell Branwen had been taken over as well. She was starting to act strange. Her accent had changed and her movements were different. An Intel officer picked up on these things. "It is nice to get out once in a while," the entity that had become Paulo commented.

"Well. Intel has it's own benefits," Jamson replied and moved to see how Branwen was doing. In the meantime, London was quickly able to activate the console without any particular problems. "Looking good Ensign. I guess marines can think like engineers," he teased the young marine as the lights illuminated the small closet-like junction. To the front was a door leading to the auxiliary center. To the sides, standard Jeffries tubes, above and below were regular Federation-style hatches leading to the upper and lower decks.

"Ok...there's a decent atmosphere inside, no danger of vacuum or any hazardous forms of radiation," Jamson was reading from Branwen's tricorder that was wired directly to the console. "No life signs, sub space phenomenon, etc." All indicated that the situation inside the small auxiliary section that was basically just a mid-sized room, overlooking the graviton generators and secondary power system such as the emergency generators, some of them operated by solar power grids and space winds, was safe to enter. "Ok. This is it. It's your show Lieutenant..." Jamson prepared his rifle and response suit once more. They were about to enter their destination.

London felt really strange, the headache was worse then ever and something else... Something she couldn't place. She shook her head to clear it. For some reason she wanted to aim her weapon at the others and...fire? No that was wrong, it was wrong. God, what was happening to her? "Sir..." She managed to get out but no other sounds would come out of her mouth.

"McDowell to Jamson," the wrist communicator on Jamson's left bracer cried out loud.

"Go ahead," Michael replied.

"Lieutenant Tarin is unconscious, I want to beam her back to the Galaxy, but I wanted to make sure you've set the transporter's second emergency area at the auxiliary section before I initiated the process," Michael said with no panic in his voice.

"We're just about to enter the Auxiliary section. Branwen could head back, she has more than sufficent medical skills." Michael glanced to the disoriented Branwen.

"I don't think we have time, I'll initiate the transport operation," Michael shot back.

Jamson rubbed his face. "Acknowledged. You shouldn't have any problems beaming her out, just reinforce the buffers and boost the signal if needed."

"Roger. McDowell out".

*** Several moments later ***

The door quickly slid open, allowing the light from the maintenance shaft to penetrate the cold darkness. Three figures moved fast inside the room, securing the room from different positions and using hand signals to alert each other of what they've found. The accessory lights on their weapons moved like dancing faeries around a magical circle of mushrooms. The room wasn't as big or as impressive as the Operations center, but was similar in dimensions to the Galaxy's bridge. "We need to get lights,” Jamson whispered, searching for the appropriate console in the dark.

Moving quietly as one could with the magnetic boots, Jamson could recognize the graviton generator’s control system on the other side of the room. He incidentally aimed his weapon in it's direction, and caught a glimpse of it with it's light. Changing his posture and walk, he felt his boots were 'sticking' to the floor. Quite a strange sensation in the dark. Lowering his rifle to the floor, he noticed a dark, thick red adhesive substance, some of it in the form of liquid and the rest was kind of glued to the floor, smeared. Just as he took out his tricorder and was about to scan, emergency lights went back online, a sign that Michael back at the Ops center was able to reroute some reserved power to the auxiliary section.

The horrors uncovered shocked the unsuspecting Lieutenant, but not his comrades. Blood was smeared all over the place, most of it already congealed, with massive piles of debris and wreckage visible everywhere. Scorched marks, clear evidence of phaser fire, decorated the room and the familiar scent of death was lurking by. As horrible as these sights were, one thing was missing, or actually 'things' - there were no bodies. All this blood, and no bodies. Furthermore, both Paulo and Branwen didn't appear to be excited by this discovery. Lieutenant Jamson was, but he didn't show it. A gloomy smile was the best he could do, without any comments or remarks. He'd seen battlefields and action many times before, but it always left the same shocking impression, just like the first time he saw a body. The difference was that now he had the tools and experience to handle such sights. Still, as much as he considered himself a 'warrior' and admirer of Klingon society, unless it was impossible, he'd rather avoid such views.

"Right..." The stunned operations lieutenant shook his head a couple of times. "Let's get to work...shall we? And then find out what the hell happened here".

"The Battle Within the Mind"

Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Officer, Not Himself (More then usual)

Paulo sat in a chair in his mind. He was in a room with no door, no way in, no way out. He was trapped. He could see his comrades falling into the trap that was being set by the being that had taken over him. When the time came there would be chaos, and there would be no way he could stop it.

After what seemed like seconds (but in reality it had been about an hour) after the being had taken over his body, he finally appeared. It appeared to Paulo as one of those Martin men from those old Sci-Fi movies from earth. "Who... what are you?" Paulo asked the green creature.

"I am a Dithparu," it replied. "Your body is not the best conduit for our needs, but it will do."

"I will not let you kill them," Paulo said standing up.

"Oh... you wont? Well, you better work on getting out of here then," it said. "My plan is already in motion, and we will soon take over this ship you call the Galaxy. We will then move on from there, and we will reign over everything again. We will be gods!"

"If your a god, then I might as well just give up," Paulo replied. "You think if I let you do this without a fight, I can be a priest or something?" Paulo said with a sly smile.

"Nice try," it said. "You will stay here, and you will watch everything you know and love fall."

"It doesn’t matter to me." Paulo said as he sat back down. "Though if you hurt my sister in any way I will make sure you burn in whatever hell you believe in!"

"Hmmm," it said scanning memories. "A most recent memory... Anna... she will make a good host," it said as it finished. "She has much knowledge that we need."

"Go to hell!" Paulo said standing up and charging the thing that called itself Dithparu. As he did it disappeared and Paulo ran into the fall. "Come back here you cowered!"

"The Ghost and the Darkness" (Part II)

SCOUTING TEAM 2:

First Lieutenant T'Shani [Matt]
Lieutenant Ella Grey [Mekaela]
Lieutenant JG Cain Forrester [Andrew]
Lieutenant JG Jack Slen [APC: Andrew]
Pilot Ember Lansky [Serene]
Ensign Nieca Rey'ol [Laura C.]

<Continued from "The Ghost and the Darkness" (Part I)>

== Outside Central Computer Core ==

There were ghosts in the darkness.

Although T'Shani a'Akledorian wasn't a mystic or spiritual person, her innate "sixth sense" was telling her that there was something else here; some presence that didn't belong. She could feel it, teasing her along the way, like a shadow around the bend of a corridor that she just couldn't catch; a whisper just out of earshot. Something was watching them, leading them, following them. Maybe even playing them. Whatever it was, 'Lieutenant T'Shani sensed that it didn't have benevolent intentions.

If she had more concrete evidence, rather than just her *gut* feeling, she would have instructed her scouting team to hold back. But with the Galaxy out of radio and transporter contact due to the ion storm, and having specific orders to restore function to the computer core, she pressed on, silently sweeping the dead, dark hallways of the station, moving deeper into the bowels of what seemed like a hungry, waiting, and silent beast.

T'Shani shook the images and thoughts from her mind with the flick of an antenna as the group finally came to a halt outside the large double-doors that read "Main Computer Control". Motioning to Ella, Tish then pointed to the doors. "Let's get these open, and see what's inside."

Ella nodded and moved to help the lieutenant open the doors. She felt calmer now, calmer since that Cain guy had stopped freaking her out anyway, and was ready to do her job. She knew thatonce she started to fix the core, having something to focus on would make her less afraid. Not quite bold and daring, of course, Ella thought as she held back a shudder, but better. Of course, she'd feel best if Victor were here, she could just hear him saying in that quiet monotone of his "I do not give you permission to scare Grey". But, well, somedays you got what you want and somedays you were assigned to fix the warp core on some freaky ass station devoid of life and wondering if you were going to make it out alive before something jumped out from the shadows and ate you.

Dr. Slen was still in the back, acting rather strangely, continually watching over his shoulder, muttering to himself.

Cain seemed to purposely distance himself from Jack and continued his scanning. Given the situation he was strangely relaxed. He started hearing what the others did too, so he wasn't as worried. If they were all going nuts, it would probably happen at the same time, so it wouldn't really matter. He had another thought, and just couldn't resist saying it. "Are we there yet?"

Nieca leaned against one of the gloomy walls and put her phaser away for a moment. Reaching down into her pocket she pulled out a cigarette and promptly lit it. It had a strange almost sage-like smell to it that the Caitian hungrly puffed upon. In mid-drag she felt the eyes of her team mates upon her.

"WHAT?" She snapped in a loud angry voice, with cigarette in hand she messaged her left temple for a moment. Something was starting to fracture in the back of her head and it was putting the woman on edge.

"Son of a bitch..." She growled as the looks of disapproval continued, taking a final inhale from the fag she quickly stamped it out with her bare foot. "There's nothing here... nothing but us...and are stupid imaginations."

"Stupid imaginations may become more real than you know if you don't watch it," Ember interjected while she kept her focus straight ahead, on the doors. She didn't allow herself to be distracted, much as she could feel the tiny hairs standing on the back of her neck. She desperately ignored the cold fingers of chill that snaked around her skin. It was so unearthly, she could almost taste fear on the tip of her tongue. She knew she was not the only one affected; that much was obvious with just one look at her companions. There was something strangely spooky about the whole business. Nevertheless, if she was shaken, she kept it carefully concealed under perfect composure and rigid concentration. The only telltale sign was the slight tightening of her grip on the phaser.

For the hundreth time, Tish reminded herself to request that all further away teams that she lead be Marines, only. Between Slen's strange mutterings, Ella's nervous twitching, and now the Caitian's *smoking*, of all things, she was sure that this station was getting to more than just her.

Within moments, however, the engineer had opened the doors, and they moved into the main control room. Like everywhere else the lights were out, the room empty. But the *feeling* was still there. In fact, it felt almost *stronger* as T'Shani stepped over the door's threshold.

"Grey, get the core up. Lansky, you're with her. Rey'ol and Forrester, you're on perimeter duty. Secure all the hatches and doors. I don't want anything surprising us." She paused, looking at Jack Slen. He was definitely losing it, for whatever reason. If he was going to do anything stupid, she wanted to be right there, to stop him. "Slen, you're with me. We've got to get power back on, here."

That meant, of course, that the team would be split up. As much as Tish didn't like to do that, she realized that it was the quickest way to get things up and running, and get the hell out of here.

"Yea, Ok. I'm coming." Jack seemed to be ok. A little shaken up, but not acting strangely like before. "I'm just feeling a little off. I'll be alright." He was far from alright though. Rash'dar was almost ready to try again.

Cain nodded to his orders. Perimeter duty. ~wonderful~ he thought. His hand started twitching beyond his control. So he immediately hid it, hoping it wouldn't make any rude gestures again. ~Jeez, man, it's like my hand has Tourettes.~

"Sure," Ember said, moving to Ella's side. The room appeared to be empty, and she didn't think there was much likelihood of any surprises being sprung upon them here. Except for the ominous sensations looming over them, which she was doing her best to filter.

Ella exhaled loudly but shook her head and moved forward, shining the flashlight at the core. Doable, she decided, and got to work. As expected, once she started fixing the core she felt calmer but she still was working quickly so they could all get the hell out of there.

"We've got power," Tish called back as she flipped a lever near a power junction. Strangely, it looked as if it had been *purposely* tripped.

"That should do it." Ella said, putting the panel back and pushing a few buttons.

As soon as the lights came on, all hell broke loose.

"Faking it"

(Occurs instantly after 'Shadows, Part 2')

Principal Characters

Lieutenant JG Victor Krieghoff,
Security Patrol

Ensign Kio,
Medical Officer

****

Deep Space 5
Deck 1
Command & Control Centre

Two figures stood facing each other in a room flooded with undulating light from the failing systems. The floor was littered with the dead; blood drying into a mottled black sheen over the metallic tiles.

The entity within ensign Kio had still made no move to either leave or interact with the one remaining occupant of the command and control centre. Kio sensed the liquid movement of the mechanisms of its mind, a mind focused on one goal alone: the pleasure of killing those inaccessible to its people. But it also weighed up the need to survive and Krieghoff seemed to have already become wary.

Kio may have lost control but she would not allow the being to have full access to her thoughts and memories, she huddled smaller and smaller in a corner of her mind, her mental barrier thickening about her like an armored cocoon. But she did allow one memory to escape.

<So you fear this Krieghoff, he proved too much for your Vulcan strength?> The being laughed at her, its mental voice a jeering abrasive noise in her mind. She had preferred it when it had remained silent.

<Perhaps your feelings are just.but this man is too much of a threat to allow out of our sight. I shall enjoy killing so worthy an adversary. Consider it my gift to you in thanks for this fine Vulcan body!> The voice spat at her with contempt. Kio did not reply, did not allow a single glimmer of her feelings to escape. All of her hope rested with Victor, surly he would be able to stop her, kill her and end this?

The Vulcan woman turned to Krieghoff, her body bereft of its normal poker backed poise moved now with a sinuous grace that augmented her feminine curves. A smile graced her face, her eyelashes cast down over her eyes. "I have been looking forward to having you to myself," she said. In her corner Kio had to smile, Krieghoff would never believe it was she that spoke to him!

Roswell was out of range, making it two that he would have to track down and deal with. Better odds for Victor, but not as good for anyone else they encountered if they were hostile - and the entity possessing the Vulcan was already demonstrating that it was willing to override the Ensign's normal behavior patterns to get what it wanted which wasn't a good sign.

"No," Victor replied. "You haven't." If the alien needed a body it wasn't anything like a Q - and even the Q could die. The trick was going to be convincing the entity to die without taking the Ensign with it.

Ersatz Kio pouted, and took a step towards him, her expression deeply hurt. "Now come on my love, after the time we have shared together I would have thought you might like to become..closer to me."

"If," he replied, the muzzle of his rifle shifting slightly to cover the possessed Vulcan squarely, "you were really the Ensign, you would have no reason to. Which means that you aren't the Ensign, not anymore. Tell me, do you have a name?"

The entity considered; there were many options here. It would seem there was no fooling the Lieutenant and this being so he seemed to have some honorable and foolhardy ambition to not harm its host's body. There was a clear advantage in this, the entity enjoyed playing with its victims before the kill and the thrill of being recognized, being able to speak as its-self to the prey appealed greatly to its twisted pallet.

"My name, "it said, "is not to be heard by your ears. But I am surprised that you do not wish to take advantage of what I am offering you. This female could never have been yours for the taking before I came to her," it added slyly, taking another step forward.

"It wouldn't have been real then, and it wouldn't be real now," Victor returned. "That isn't your body, remember?" The muzzle of his rifle never wavered. "What is real is this: if you take another step, we're going to discover if you can feel pain while you're in there."

The entity was annoyed; it had long since discovered the power of living flesh cast in an attractive form over a sexually compatible counterpart. But it would seem this would not be an occasion for its use. This man was a possible kill... but it was not confident of a victory, even in this Vulcan's body. She was small for a Vulcan, strong, but perhaps not strong enough? It would not take the risk when there was so much more to come.

So it reached into the bag still hung over Kio's shoulder and found the hypo it knew she had stowed away for an emergency, ironically in case of a possession like the one she now experienced. Kio had tried to guard her thoughts but the entity managed to drag the information from her...this hypo's full contents discharged into a persons system would kill not stun.

The Hypo gripped in one fist the entity smiled at Victor, teeth glinting in the dull light like those of a predator. "Oh I don't think you want to hurt this body...but you are welcome to try my sweetheart...try all you like." It hissed, all disguise about its true nature abandoned in just one moment. And then it darted towards him, moving as fast and as deadly as a sharpened blade in the hand of a seasoned assassin.

Victor made the split-second decision not to fire as the possessed Kio darted forward, still uncertain as to how the presence of the entity would affect a stun setting - but not heartened by the fact that no one on the command deck had appeared to be using the non-lethal settings on their phasers. He sidestepped instead, knocking the arm with the hypo aside with the rifle. If the entity inside the Ensign wanted to inject him with it, he doubted that whatever it was would be good for him.

As she passed him, he reversed the butt of the rifle and slammed the butt into her shoulder. It wasn't the hand that held the hypo, but fighting a one-armed opponent was always better than fighting one with two - or more - functional arms.

Kio, still aware of the goings on was dismayed to find that not being in control of her own body did not in any way negate the pain she felt. She spun away from the blow and if it had been up to her she would have fallen to the floor and screamed, the pain was intense, the shoulder dislocated. But the entity did not seem very bothered about pain, the dislocated shoulder a mere annoyance. Arm hanging useless she came about and neatly stepped behind Victor who could move fast but was nevertheless a large powerful man and even he could not defy the laws of physics. The hypo was to his neck in a moment, the contents fully discharged.

The sudden shift in position by the possessed Vulcan caught Victor off guard, and he snarled as he felt the sensation of the hypo injecting its contents into him. He shifted again, even as he felt the drug taking hold and things started to go dark, and jerked the butt of the rifle back and into the Vulcan's abdomen, doubling her over. He should have just pulled the trigger, he realized as he swung around and started the back swing that would shatter her temple.

But he never made contact. Even as he swung, the drug took better hold and the entity, leaning back a little, watched as he tumbled to the floor. The entity removed her hand from where he had struck her and then seized the arm below the dislocated shoulder. Kio mentally braced her-self for the pain but nothing could prevent the intense agony that followed as the shoulder was forced back into place.

Within, Kio thought very hard about how much she had not wanted to see Victor dead at her feet, how bad it would look on her Starfleet record and the entity laughed at her.

Kio had to try even harder not to allow it a glimpse of the triumph she felt.

The hypo was a simple tranquilizer and would wear off in a matter of ten minutes or so...it would seem that she was not powerless after all. By allowing information to pass, seemingly with reluctance, she could manipulate some of the actions this being took.

So she concentrated hard on feeling very bad about Victor's apparent death.

"Into the Toy Box, Part One: Bad Apple"

(takes place about ten minutes after "Kill Count")

8-ball Hunter
Samantha Widdlestein

Well, Samantha decided, at least now someone would believe her when she said that there were reasons that she didn't want to go to school.

The body of one of their teachers was still twitching slightly on the floor. Sam felt sorry for the woman but since she was dead and Sam was not, her own survival took presedence. She could feel the Hirogen knife in her sleeve and that gave her some comfort but not nearly enough. Not when that Vulcan chick was smiling from ear to ear.

That Vulcan chick was sitting on top of a table, a phaser held negligently in one hand, and an apple in the other. She smiled as she watched the children go through their little motions of terror: crying, screaming, praying for rescue. There were people that talked about famous composers like Mozart and Beethoven as being the source of great music, but obviously those people had never listened to the pathetic whimpers of frightened children. It was better than just classical music; it was music of the soul.

8-ball looked at the kids as she held the apple higher in her hand. "Now, children," she said to them, "this is a truly excellent apple. I mean, it's really the genuine article: crisp and juicy, just like an apple should be. You might be thinking, 'Hey, lady, it's just an apple. No need to get so worked up over such a little thing.' But that's exactly the kind of attitude that you shouldn't take. People don't notice the simple things in life anymore. They take everything for granted, whether it's apples or just their lives."

8-ball gestured to the teacher's twitching corpse. "Take, for example, Mrs. Edelstein. Now, Mrs. Edelstein seemed like a nice lady, kind and compassionate, with just a little sass, and I'm sure you're all very sorry that she's dead. But you have to look at her passing as not a tragedy but a lesson, something you can learn from and thereby grow in life. When Mrs. Edelstein woke up this morning, she wasn't thinking that this apple would be her last. She wasn't thinking, 'I must savor every moment, because soon I'm going to be dead.' She took her life for granted, always expecting another tommorow. And when you expect the days to keep coming, you miss out on all the beauty of life."

"Now that you've seen death with your own, two little eyes, you begin to understand that this can happen to you. There may be no more apples, or grapes, or even strawberries. Someday soon you might just fall over and die. And won't that be sad for you, if you died without living life to its fullest?" 8-ball smiled at the children as she casually took a bite of the apple. "You must remember, every day of your life, that each morning you wake up, you might die before the sun falls. Every day, I want you to remember that you are going to die."

Samantha clutched the other fist, if only to keep herself from holding on to tightly to where the hidden knife rested and give herself away. She needed to be brave like Arel, she told herself. Hell, she'd even saved Arel's butt from the Hirogen she had taken this knife from; she was the epitome of bravery. Now she just needed an opportunity.

8-ball hopped off the table and started to move around the room. She stepped negligently over Mrs. Edelstein's body and walked by the children, enjoying how every time her smile widened, the children tried to move further back. "I know you guys might be unhappy now," 8-ball said, "but really, someday you'll be thanking me." She thought about that as she stared into the eyes of one terrified little boy. "Well," she said. "Not really. But it might help if you think about it that way."

She moved past the little boy and walked by other children, occasionally putting the phaser to their foreheads or just smiling really brightly. "Maybe we should play a game," 8-ball said. "That might make you feel a little more at ease. What do you say? A little tag, maybe? Tell you what: I'll give you about two seconds to try and run away, and if you don't get out of here after I'm done counting, I shoot you with my little phaser and see if you twitch just as good as poor Mrs. Edelstein did. No?"

The kids didn't make a sound. 8-ball laughed. "No, I guess not. Maybe a different game, then." She tapped her comm badge, opening it to all frequencies. "Hey! It's Lieutenant, Junior Grade, 8-ball Hunter, Chief Science Officer and Amazing Drinker Extraordinare. I just thought I'd let everyone know that I'm currently holding about half the children on the ship hostage right now. . .all the telepathic children, interestingly enough, seem to be strangely absent. Anyway, I'm getting pretty bored on this ship, and these kids are sure fun to watch scream and scream. I think I could get a little more screaming out of them, though. I think I could definitely evoke a little more pain. I think I will. . ."

8-ball took a Bajoran child by the arm and jerked her across the room. The little girl screamed in terror over the comm. "Unless someone else gets their ass over here right now, I'm going to start bleeding these kids. And blood only flows so long before it all runs out. I'd get here before then, if I were you. Chief Science Officer out!"

~What are you DOING?!~screamed the masculine Dithparu in 8-ball's mind. ~This is supposed to be a SUBTLE mutiny!~

~I was never very good at subtle~Anlaika replied. ~Now shut up, before I stick you in the cage with our host.~ She dropped the Bajoran child on the ground and started moving around the room again, saying nothing but just eerily smiling at them.

Sam watched as the Vulcan got closer and closer to her. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman that she had gotten into a food fight with. That woman had been a pain in the ass, this one was just plain scary. And mean. Samantha, leaping to a conclusion that anyone in her position she felt would do, decided that she must be possessed by an evil alien entity. And here she had thought that such occurences were overdone in the stories.

This story is going to win me the reporter of the year award, Samantha thought with a shakky mental laugh.

8-ball narrowed her eyes at one of the older children in the room. Young girl, young teenager. 8-ball realized she remembered this girl. "You," she said. "I know you. Well, what have you been doing?" When the girl stubbornly refused to respond, 8-ball stepped closer. "What's the matter, little girl? Cat got your tongue?"

Samantha leveled the woman a cool glaze. "I'm reflecting upon my life."

8-ball laughed. "That's witty. Very witty. You're a brave little girl, aren't you? Well, tell the class, little Sam. This is show and tell time. What have you been reflecting about? Come to any momentous conclusions?"

She was sorry that she was going to have to hurt Hunter but she had to save herself. "Yeah, I've decided that your apple theory is a shitty metaphor."

Samantha let the knife slide into her hand and thrust it forward.

There was an audible sound of a knife going into a body and a shriek of pain and for a moment, Samantha Widdlestein relaxed. But then she saw that in her haste she had missed the goal entirely.

8-ball shrieked as she stared at the knife in her left arm. For just a second there, she wasn't smiling or laughing at all, and neither were any of the entities in her body: Anlaika, Good 8-ball, and nameless guy screamed as one. Then Evil 8-ball pulled out the knife and grabbed Samantha's wrist. She glared at the girl and said, "That really hurt, you know." Then she twisted the wrist backwards.

Sam shrieked as she heard, and felt, the bone crack. She tried to pull away but that only made it hurt worse, plus Hunter had a death grip on her.

8-ball had started to smile again as she began to drag Sam to the side of the room. Dragging children was sort of amusing, 8-ball discovered, and she made it as painful as possible. "You are pretty brave, aren't you, little Sam? Well, as you know, bravery is only meaningful when it doesn't always work out. Why, if the good guys always won, then nobody would be afraid anymore! Everybody would try to save the day because there would be nothing to fear. But when the courageous are caught and the bad guy wins, well, only then is bravery truly a noble thing. I'm sure you wouldn't want your bravery to be inconsquential, would you?"

8-ball stopped dragging Sam long enough to pick up a few jump ropes with one arm. "And I bet you thought these things were pretty useless," 8-ball said, and then proceeded to tie Sam up so that she couldn't struggle, could barely even move, for that matter.

8-ball looked at the knife that Sam had stuck in her and held it to gently to Sam's cheek. Sam tried to pull away from it but 8-ball used her knee to pin the bound Sam to the wall.

"This is a very pretty knife," 8-ball said. "I wonder if you can truly appreciate its beauty unless you felt its effects." She took the blade and cut, slowly but deeply into Sam's cheek, even as Samantha started screaming.

8-ball pulled back the blade and smiled at the girl. "Tell me," 8-ball said. "Was it good for you?"

"Kill Count"

Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter

*Also Staring Evil Dithparu Anlaika and Joe Satan

The kill count was at three.

First, Ensign Wheyson, and his freckles and boyish looks. Then, a non-lethal encounter: beating the shit out of boyfriend Vrih Himne. Immediately after that had been the demise of two lieutenants. The first was a pretty blonde from Engineering, last name Datson. She had died quickly after being shot once in the head. The other lieutenant was a Tactical officer that 8-ball didn't recognize. She had seduced him like she had Wheyson, and then strangled him with his own uniform.

~Gosh~ 8-ball thought dully. ~The good times keep on coming.~ She recognized this was probably a monstrously inappropriate thought, but some of her horror had become glazed over by shock. She couldn't feel a lot from within her cage, and was thankful for it. Her attempts at rebellion had been met by more contempt than actual anger, and 8-ball knew there was no way she was getting control of her body back. The sooner she just fell over and died, the better.

Anlaika, of course, was much less despondent.

~I'm having so much fun!~Anlaika informed 8-ball and the as-of-yet unnamed evil Dithparu man. ~I wonder what we should do now.~

~Fuck somebody and then murder them mercilessly?~ 8-ball suggested in a dry, unconnected way. ~That seems to be your area of expertise.~

Anlaika smiled at that. ~I'm pretty talented, I know.~

~We're wasting our time~ the grumpy, masculine voice said. 8-ball decided she was tired of thinking of him as 'the masculine' voice and decided to name him Joe. After a moment, she decided that Joe didn't have the right amount of energy for someone as evil as he was, and instead chose Satan.

~This is a pointless excercise~ Joe Satan continued. ~We should be concentrating on our mission.~

~We don't have a mission~ Anlaika pointed out. ~The others can do whatever they want, secure the ship, kill the crew, and it doesn't really matter. All I'm concerned with is having some fun in this body. And I'm getting pretty tired of hearing you bitch about it.~

8-ball thought Joe Satan would argue the point, but instead he became quiet, and 8-ball realized she knew why. If Anlaika and Joe Satan had actually been married, it was pretty damn clear that Anlaika would have worn the pants in the family. Joe sounded scary but he didn't wield much power, and 8-ball suddenly understood that if Anlaika wanted to, she could trap Joe Satan the same way she had trapped 8-ball. Anlaika was ruling this show, and Joe must have realized it too, because he grumbled quietly to himself without really pushing the issue.

If anything, this just seemed to amuse Anlaika more. "Oh, cheer up," Anlaika told him. "Look, I've found us something to occupy our time." She pointed at the door and 8-ball looked without much interest. She figured all she would see was some ensign ready to be murdered.

She was wrong.

8-ball felt a touch of the horror return to her through the mist of resignation and shock as she stared at the door Anlaika was pointing to. It was a door she had come to many times in the last few months, and every time she had dreaded it like it was Hell itself.

Now she was coming back, only this time she had real demons for company.

8-ball wondered how high the kill count would go up after Anlaika led was finished having fun with god knows how many children in the Galaxy school.

"The Second Front"

By: Lieutenant jg T'lan (possessed) And various thralls

Location: Deck 12, USS Galaxy

T'lan's guerrilla takeover of the ship was going too well. Already her ideas accounted for nearly a third of the ship's captured psychics, as well as three quarters of the ship's enthralled mundane crew. She had dozens of key personnel in her command. The security officers at their central officers were all taken, and guarding Captain M'Kantu. She had transporter officers to aid in her plan. She had specialists. She had whatever stumbled onto her plan.

But what she didn't have was confidence.

The plan was running too smoothly, until the capture of Captain M'Kantu. There he sabotaged the ship before his capture, using a security routine even her enthralled security chief did not know. Before she could stop him, the ship's computer locked out everyone onboard, Dithparu, mundanes, psychics all.

Then there was the Admiral on board. The spirit inhabiting T'lan's body didn't know about the Admiral. What she should have known she should have learned from her enthralled crew, and from the host's mind. The fact that she missed that fact miffed her to no end.

It also questioned what else she did not know, or would eventually fail.

So hastily she assembled a group of humanoids, mundanes with a couple of Dithparu hijacked psychics for backup, ordered them to arm themselves with phaser rifles and pistols, and organized them into groups. She led a posse of security officers and civilians with rifles herself, all enthralled herself.

Her first thrall, Commander James Lionel Corgan, distributed the rifles from a rack. He handed one to his mate, the newly enthralled Mika. She looked at the weapon with puzzlement.

James turned to T'lan. "She doesn't know how to use it."

"Teach her." T'lan ordered.

Leaning his rifle against the wall, James directed Mika. "Trigger." He gently touched the fingerpad and triggerguard. Then his finger stroked a numbered column readout on top of the rifle. "Settings." His finger slid up the settings control. The bars glowed in power as his finger activated. "Stun." Then he raised the bars more, "Kill." And further still, "Destructive. Keep at kill." He lowered the settings, and his finger went to another control. "Power pack. If empty, hit the button, it releases, then load in a new one. Very simple."

"Yes." Mika nodded.

"Go with the others." T'lan commanded.

"Yes, ma'am."

The other factor undermining her confidence was the increasing resistance of the crew. The enthralled were far from perfect. Dithparu were still needed to give the captured mundanes commands, for without them they were hounds without a huntsman. They were a cumbersome weapon and tool that needed constant supervision, but without them the capture of the ship would be impossible. A new empire needed this new breed of slaves, but imperfection railed on her. To be imperfect was a reflection on her technique, as new as it was to her, and to be imperfect lent it to mistakes. And mistakes are what she felt she was doing.

She always reflected back to the first time James Corgan resisted. She still didn't know what prompted his sudden silence. It took cohesion to bring him back to her side.

~"What is going on?"~ T'lan's Dithparu parasite asked herself, ~"Are they learning to resist? That is impossible. They are mundane. They have no defenses, but the security chief tried and would have succeeded in repulsing me if I had a different host. How? And that Captain outsmarted me. How? How do they do it?"~

T'lan winced, rubbing her temple. Her head felt a needle sharp stab of pain. The frequency of these discomforts has increased since taking over. She was unaware of any maladies on the Vulcan host's part. The pain was entirely new.

~"This body is limited as well. It offers intense pleasures, but I must suffer pain. I will grow used to these new sensations over time, but why can't they bother me later?"~

~"Because I resist, Dithparu. I am Lieutenant jg T'lan... the real T'lan."~

Like a taut wire snapping in her hands, her headache increased. She groaned and grimaced, sitting down on a nearby shelf to steady herself.

"What is all this?"~ The Dithparu in T'lan asked, ~"I have submerged your intelligence. There is no way you can come back!"

"Sir?" James asked, concerned.

"Silence!" She barked.

~"I may have the answer to your inquiry, Dithparu."~ T'lan said, matter of factly and devoid of any alarm, ~"Your species, though psychically powerful, is illogical and prone to arrogance. You assume too much about your abilities, overestimate what you are capable of, and ultimately fail, just like on the Starbase. Failure is inevitable if you stay your course."~

The Dithparu snapped, "What do you know of us! Your assumptions are presumptuous!"

~"Please refrain from emotional outbursts. Vulcans have not been adapted to your overuse of emotions for centuries."~

"You dare dictate terms to me? What do you know?"

~"A suggestion, nothing more. What I do know about you is basic. You, like your species, is intelligent, malevolent, cruel, cunning, petty, prone to conquest and rivalry. You yourself are more intelligent and cruel than the average sentient of your species, but you are overconfident. I can tell by your thought processes that you are a scholarly person, perhaps a teacher or a professor of your race. Your inexperience in tactical matters show. You are not an adept general. You are also jealous of the close relationships between the other Dithparu, one you do not share. You feel as if you are excluded from their inner circle, and therefore try harder to bring their approval. This drives you to overextend yourself, and you compensate for your lack of ability in this manner with bold speech and grand claims."~

The Dithparu focused for a second, sinking herself into the Vulcan's mind. She found herself in an austerely lit chamber, a room of white light and nothing else. The Dithparu came face to face with T'lan. The Vulcan looked unemotional and all knowing, as if she held a winning poker hand. The look on T'lans face infuriated the Dithparu.

"You presume to know so much about me, little Vulcan." The Dithparu arrogantly sauntered to her host, touching the Vulcan's clammy cheek, "You can presume so much, but you are powerless to stop me. Don't you realize that I am in control? You can say all you want to me. You are not the master of this body. I am. It is mine. You cannot stop what or me my people will do. So go back to where I sent you before I force a mental death of your own soul, and I assure you, I can make it... happen."

T'lan nodded, "That I have no doubt, Dithparu. However, you must ask yourself about the limits of your powers."

The Dithparu scoffed, "Limits? I? What do you know of my limits, material being?"

"I know..." T'lan paused, "That your powers are limited in the incorporeal and the corporeal plains. You can only disrupt the psychics while in incorporeal form. In corporeal form, you may actually manipulate devices and bodies. You need bodies for this, but these bodies, by species ability and ESP levels, limit your powers. Even now you stretch the limits of your powers."

"You know nothing!" The Dithparu raged, "You leave me no choice, you nuisance."

"If you try to kill my spirit... you may lose control of your enthralled."

The Dithparu halted, her hand extended, her energies gathering in a maelstrom of psychic charges. "I will not. I have more than enough power."

T'lan said, "Yet I resist. By your logic, I should have been so far submerged that I should have never come out to speak to you. You have overestimated your abilities, both your own and the abilities in me."

"You are wrong!!!"

"I am correct, Dithparu. Note the example of your thralls, in particular my commander. He resisted you once, even when you had power to spare. It was through my familiarity with his method of attack that you kept him. Then, he resisted you again, in an attempt to protect his mate from your slavery. And now, you find that your thralls are harder to control, and I have emerged once again. Logically, your psychic powers must be at their limit."

"You lie!"

"Vulcans do not lie, no matter how the truth is manipulated." T'lan corrected her, "You can choose to believe me or not. I am not bothered, for that would be an emotional response. However, there is a ninety nine point nine two percent chance that your confidence will be further undermined. I have observed your behaviour. I know you well. Better than you know me. From my observation, I can estimate how you react."

"You lie!"

"I have already told you. Vulcans do not lie. Logically, I do not lie."

"YOU LIE!"

"Then test the validity of my claim. Submerge me. Take more thralls. Try to test the limits of your powers. Then watch as you lose control of everything you've gained. Watch as I reassert myself in my own body. Watch as your thralls disobey commands and eventually leave you. Watch your powerbase crumble. Watch."

The psychic energy buildup between the two souls crackled in the condensed confines of their meeting place. Intense emotions from the Dithparu soul fuelled hers, while the real T'lan relied on her Vulcan control to steer her energies forward. Their energies collided, crackled, and swirled, the Dithparu directing hers like a gale wind, T'lan sloping her energies like ablative armour, redirecting the psychic gale.

Outside their body, the enthralled writhed in mild pain. Corgan clutched his temple. Mika felt her forehead, her antennae flexing and whipping. A transporter officer keeled over, caressing his stomach. The first groans of pain were heard.

The Dithparu ceased her attack. T'lan lowered her defenses.

"Have you observed?" T'lan asked her foe, "Your powers are limited. If you were as logical as I, your soul would be more adapted to my body, but that is not the case. Therefore, you abilities are hampered by this. However, my race is the only race that will allow you the ability to enthral others via the Vulcan mind meld. So you have a problem. Lose your ability to subvert the crew, or do it imperfectly and risk losing your slaves."

"I will manage." The Dithparu grimaced, very afraid but hiding with a mask of anger, "I am Dithparu. I am a being like no other. You corporeal beings are still no match for my powers! Your deception was a disruption of my powers, that is all! A fool who speaks like a wise sage will not deceive me! Are you prepared to die, body and soul?!"

T'lan answered, "Not, as of yet I am not. I know that you are at the limit of your powers, but you are still too powerful. However, the variety of abilities are limited by my flesh. You cannot destroy my mind and soul as of yet. You can only hold me back like before. To destroy me would relinquish your hold on your thralls, and you would have to start the process of subverting them all over again."

"So what?"

"You know that they will remember, Dithparu. They will reveal your deceptions. You will be hunted down and either captured or destroyed. Do not underestimate Starfleet's ingenuity."

The Dithparu, feeling trapped, tried to think frantically around the Vulcan, but found her mind cagey to lock onto. She lost the ability to access her memories. The grip on the thrall's minds loosened. She felt the pain and discomfort of her corporeal body.

"SHUT UP!"

She hurled all her psychic energy at T'lan. Her avatar form collapsed under the sheer weight of the attack, bowing her frail soul until it was ready to snap. The thralls clutched over, groaning in pain. The Dithparu's core being felt like it was being burned up.

"I have yet to attack you, Dithparu." T'lan said, "I merely communicate with you and defend myself. I have no need to attack you now. All I need to do is wait. I will know when you overstep your limits, and there I will wait to retake my body."

"URRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Like an instant shockwave, T'lan's soul form brushed aside from the onslaught. The Dithparu was T'lan once more, and her thralls, released from the wracking pains of the psychic battle, resumed their servitude as before. T'lan's essence was shoved so far into its own unconsciousness that there was no way, the Dithparu was certain, that a personality could ever come back. It was a lot of effort, and she almost lost her thralls, but held on.

T'lan laughed, enjoying her victory.

~"Foolish corporeal."~ T'lan clucked, patting the sweat off her brow, ~"She thought she could fight me. How foolishly she underestimated me. I will consolidate my power and succeed."~

T'lan surveyed herself. She was a flush, her heart rate increased dramatically, and her skin took on a green shade like unripened fruit. When she saw her hand, it trembled, tingling with the excess energy of her attack. She tried to control the shakes, clamping her wrist with her hand, but could not stop for a whole minute. Her mind raced. There was fear in the Dithparu, uncertainty that it never felt for years.

~"...but what if she is right?"~

"Resident Evil Redux"

Commander Karyn Dallas, SO/Chief Counselor
Lt. JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
2nd Lt. Rayne Sutea, Furies Intelligence Specialist
Ensign Le'on Khatrowen, Security Officer
Ensign Artim, Medical Officer
Ensign Rena Lanford, Medical Officer (NPC-Ian)

With every new step and every new corridor, the Medical team's light projectors unraveled new horrors and atrocities.

They spent fourty-five seconds trying to determine whether the first motionless body that came their way was alive or not; then twenty seconds on the second one. By the time they came across the fifth corpse, they hadn't even slowed down, and only made sure it seemed dead by a quick scan of Commander Dallas' Medical Tricorder.

Karyn was in the lead with Saul beside her, and with each step, she tried to focus more on her tricorder readings and less on the grim surroundings. She was the team leader and their priority was to find out what happened here, not to get caught up in the lives lost. Still, Karyn found herself moved emotionally by what she saw, and the counselor in her wondered what she would tell the families before the social scientist in her returned to her tricorder. "How much further to sickbay, Lieutenant Bental?" She didn't really need to whisper, but she found herself doing so out of respect.

Saul Bental was growing more and more anxious by the moments. The sights of carnage were all too familiar. Leran Manev slowly crept into his mind, with dead body parts emerging from the rubble, and signs on destruction everywhere. Only this was cleaner - there were not dust or shattered buildings to hide the dead, to obscure them.

He raised his eyes from the Tricorder that displayed the station's schematics. "The entrance to sickbay should be dead ahead," He told Karyn and Le'on.

Karyn nodded. "Remain alert, all."

"Don't need to tell me twice", Artim replied, eyes narrowing

Unlike the others Artim didn't seem to react as strongly to the scene of death and destruction on the station, at least outwardly. Living on a dead world for three centuries had desensitized the Miran to such things as things this grim were commonplace there. Still, he did have a momentary flashback to when he returned home from school that fateful day 400 or so years ago when his life changed forever...

As quick as the image appeared in his mind Artim swatted it out like a fly. He had to focus on the job at hand. He moved down the corridor one hand on his tricorder, the other on his phaser carbine. Irregardless of what this scene may invoke in the seemingly juvenile doctor, this was a dangerous situation. Something had killed all these people and may well be threatening his ship. There had to be something here.

The door to the sickbay's main hall was half shut. Saul signalled Rayne to join him, and together the two forced the door open.

As the two pulled, each one in opposite direction. Saul stole a glance at the Echani. He hadn't gotten a chance to check on the mysterious marine, and he was burning with curiosity as for how she knew him - as he no longer had any doubt that she did. Unfortunately, the mission came before everything else, including a certain Tactical Chief's persistent curiosity.

It took quite an effort, but after ten seconds, the doors finally yielded and revealed the sickbay behind.

"Thanks for the assistance, guys," Karyn remarked dryly. It was characteristic of her, but the words were without humor. She was tense, although she tried not to look as bothered as she felt.

Saul tightened his grip on his phaser; the emergency hall was the worst battlefield yet.

Dallas took two steps into sickbay and already she felt trapped. There was no order to the room, and if she didn't know any better, she'd have assumed the station had been the target of a massive explosion. Carts of medical equipment were toppled over, shards of duraplastic mixed with blood of various shades crunching under their boots. Although her path was too littered with debris to move, from her vantage point, she could see biobeds literally split in half, their monitors with circuits open to the outside, as if someone had taken something and smashed them all to pieces.

But the destruction to sickbay didn't begin to cover the devastation. There were wounded people on the beds, some of them half-lying, half-hanging from the beds, their limbs resting at odd angles and their eyes wide open in horror. Karyn exhaled and felt something at her feet, looking down just in time to find a human male staring up at her, his skull half caved in and his body so charred she could see right down to the muscle.

"Elohim," She heard Saul whispering rasply next to her, "They were all butchered. In their beds."

Dallas felt her bile rise and chose that moment to turn away. "I'm not picking up any lifesigns right in range, but we should check the rubble just to be certain. Let's see if we can't also get the scanners and computers up and running. We might be able to ascertain what was going on in here just prior to their deaths."

"On it Commander. Next priority should be to move some of the dead so we can restore some sense of order here. I'll see if I can get the access to the medical logs."

Pulling a mangled body, which resembled that of the stations chief medical officer, out of a chair behind a still flickering console, Artim sat down in a bloodstained chair and started working to pull up some kind of log or records of what happened here. The data had been damaged, some deleted, but he did manage to pull up a medical file. It looked like...that of the betazoid he had beat at chess right before he left for the Galaxy. She seemed to have the same neurochemical imbalances he had seen in the Galaxy crewmembers he'd treated, but there was something he hadn't seen in them. Someone had thought to run a brainwave pattern analysis. Something was definitely...off. He'd need some help with this one.

"Dr. Lansford, Commander Dallas, take a look at this. I'm no neurological expert, but these readings can't be normal."

The voice calling to her was faint; like a muffled call from another room down a corridor. She barely registered it on her senses. Everything had appeared concurrently dim upon Rena's entry into the devastated medical area. Bile rose in her throat at the sight of the mangled remains of personnel. An eye gazed blandly up from her upon a broken diagnostic bed, it's owner's corpse spread out over a period of space longer than the frame of its body, as it had be rent and shredded. The other eyeball dangled loosely from the socket belonged to.

Scrunching her eyes at the unexpected emotion of anger and sadness mixed with pity arising, her stomach growled in respondent hunger. It was completely inappropriate in anyone's mind, at which nausea gripped her. She cupped a hand over her mouth, breaking the despondency as she saw the child doctor beckoning for her with a concerned look upon his face.

Leaving the entrails behind, she moved alongside the Miran, distracted by the notes.

Karyn moved over to the panel and frowned. "Those readings can't be realistic. That doesn't match anything I've ever seen, not even close."

"I concur. Brainwave patterns must be in error." She pointed out one record, and called up a tracking addendum to overlay the patterns on each other. The display conjectured a pair of brainwave algorithms, but they were different. Not an algorithm spike on a single strand, but several on all spikes. They were completely different.

"This is not possible. The records must be damaged. We cannot deem them reliable until we have interfaced them with the Galaxy computers for reconstruction."

"Not necessarily. I've seen something like this before, I'm sure of it, more than once. A second mind somehow implants itself into the brain of another, producing a pattern like this," Artim replied. After toying with the data a little bit he remembered a paper he had read in medical school about something like this, about an incident on the Enterprise D many years ago. When main power was restored and the full medical database could be accessed, he'd try to look it up. For now though he tried to search the records he could access for similar brain patterns.

Rena accessed another series of logs, displaying injury and death reports. The morgue had been filled to capacity, with cargo bays handling the capacity. The CMO's logs were erratic throughout from corruption. Stardates had been re-arranged, data attempted to be purged... even a record of the CMO ejecting logs. There had been a body found on the hangar deck devoid of markings, personal logs of frustration by the CMO at an increasing amount of psychic assaults and being unsure how to treat some. An engineer who had been brought in from a structure being investigated with a golden mask glued to his face. It had taken several hours to surgically remove it, at which resulted in the death of the engineer. His body was in the morgue at slot 32-C. Notes on several bodies found within the structure. DNA results were flashing on the screen, no one to acknowledge them. A... Ven Kaldarren from Betazed. Death was as a result of cranial implosion. Unknown reason why. Time of death was sometime between 2334-2338. Personnel records show his date of birth approximately 2299, next of kin a Jason Kaldarren, whereabouts unknown. Former spouse... a Captain Rachel Garrett. This raised an eyebrow on the Vulcan. Rachel Garrett was commanding officer of the Enterprise-C at Narendra III. How did her ex-husband come to be here? Another body of indeterminate age had been discovered in the chamber. A Vulcan whose records came back identifying him as a 'Sivek'. Personal details were too corrupted to reveal any more about him. Also, a pair of desiccated bodies had been recovered from the inner chamber. Dating had identified them on an age of several thousand years old. One was obviously a noble, as photos of the scene showed the body in regal garb. The other corpse found was of a child, cause of death being simple asphyxiation and lack of nourishment.

Artim's search, opposite of what he'd hoped, bore some fruit. Artim found at least five similar occurrences of dual brainwave patterns, one in another Betazoid, two in Vulcans, a Lumerian merchant, and a Lethian that had been in the brig awaiting transport to a prison facility. These people had one important thing in common; they all had some sort of telepathic ability. After a bit more tabulating, he found that the second pattern in each of them was from an entirely different mental structure then that of the patients and were all similar when compared to each other. "Commander, you should see this, ma'am. This has gone beyond the point of coincidence." Artim said, narrowing his eyes in thought.

Behind them, Saul Bental finished inspecting the perimeter with Le'on and Rayne. Once the three determined that the area was clear, and that no corpse made any plans on becoming a Zombie, they could finally aid the Medical Officers. "They should've attached Engineers or Operations officers to this team," Saul indicated, nudging a shattered medicine cabinet. "There's nothing we can salvage on our own."

"Get me a toolkit, I at least took some advanced engineering and I'll see what I can do." Artim said barely looking up from his blood spattered console Saul, however, wasn't paying attention. "What's that?" He muttered. He was standing above a semi-transparent container, three meters long, most of its surface covered by blood and something else that gruesomely resembled... brain tissue.

Saul pulled a stained bed cover from a nearby biobed, and used it to wipe a section of the container.

He leaned so his nose almost touched the container's cold surface, and his moist breath condensed on it.

"Commander, Doctors, is there any chance that this guy is alive?"

Rena, even with her vision fading more so in the light, cautiously approached the frosty stasis chamber. Peering into the gap made by the CTO, she cupped a hand over her brows in order to see more clearly.

"Humanoid male. No discernible markings to identify species or injury." The log of an unmarked body came to mind from the logs. She reached around to read the labels on the chamber.

"Operating on reserve power only. I am curious how the chamber remained operative when the main power sources were disrupted." Saul peeked behind her, feeling slightly helpless. He was here as the brawn, not the brain, and it was a position he disliked greatly. It was a sharp change for someone who used to rely on his brain rather than his gun. However, he was professional enough to know where his abilities are more useful, and where they are less. So, instead of offering an insight he did not have, he simply nodded. "Doctor Artim, your assistance, please?", Rena called.

Artim walked away from the console and over to the cryostasis unit and stared at it. He punched up some things and stared.

"That's odd; someone took some careful effort to wire this container into Sickbay's hardened reserves. But there's nothing in the records we can access that would say why. Until main power comes back and we can get more of our equipment back up, bringing him back would be very dangerous. I'd strongly advise against it until then."

"I'm no Engineer," Saul told the young-looking Doctor, "But I'm not totally sure that this... stasis chamber... can withstand being recharged with full power, since it's slightly damage. Look here." He gestured at three purple gauges in the top left corner of the chamber's operating console, "Even if we do bring him back, we need to do it slowly and carefully." He swiveled toward Karyn. "Commander, I think we should ask the Galaxy to allocate a couple of Engineers and some extra security detail if we want to get sickbay up and running effectively."

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