"Hyjack!"

Occurs just after "Faking it."

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell,
Engineer Ensign Kio, Medical Officer

***Deep Space 5***

It was time to move on off this station. One way she knew out of here was the shuttle they called Mawaki. The time for games and waiting was over. The others could take care of this bunch. She had bigger fish to fry and they were on the starship. The thing that actually travelled instead of being stuck in one spot its whole existence. They could do so much more using the ship instead of waiting for people to happen upon them in the stationary station.

She entered the place where she first entered her host. This host whose constant struggle and whining was becoming quite annoying. She saw a Vulcan in the room. Or the body of one rather. She approached her. "It's time to go."

The entity within Ensign Kio looked up at Nara and an insidious smile pulled at its lips. It was standing over the apparently dead body of Victor Kriegoff, a spent hypo hanging from its limp grasp. Without looking down it stepped away from the fallen Lieutenant and let the hypo fall in its wake with a sharp metallic ring on the blood stained floor.

"Not a moment to soon my darling." It breathed, one hand trailing with a gentle caress over Nara's face as it passed her.

"Greener pastures beckon...let us go paint them a delightful red!"

She disappeared into the black maw of the corridor that led to the turbo lift and soft laughter followed her, inviting her comrade to follow.

"The non-telepaths don't bend easily. I was too obviously not this Nara when I approached one of them. I think he knows something is awry. When we get to the ship, we need to act fast." The Dithparu mentioned as she followed.

"This too I have noted; it was a pity but I was unable to fool the abomination Kreigoff and was forced to dispense of him in a most...unsatisfactory manner." The false Kio replied as it activated the lift.

"We must return to the station and see what sport can be accomplished there. It is possible that whereas some may suspect others may fall easy prey...we must stay concealed for as long as is possible, a concerted opposing force from the non-telepaths could still see us undone, fierce as we might be in intent." It continued, for a moment serious despite the smile that still hovered on its face.

Sport? Ignoring the choice of words, she responded, "The shuttle they came in. I think I can pull enough information out of my host to figure out how to work it. We can get to the ship that way."

"Then lead on dear heart." The Kio entity replied.

"My pleasure." She answered taking the lead.

DS5 - SHUTTLEBAY

The entity within Kio stood before the shuttle, Mawaki, with a slight frown furrowing its brow. Just for a moment it had sensed triumph from its host but as quickly as it was there it disappeared...damn Vulcan’s and their inherent mental strength. For all of their delicious strength and pent up anger they were not the easiest of hosts to ride.

Again, a flash of something...but this time the entity detected the thought and held on grimly. It smiled. Turning to the entity within Nara it stepped close to her, so that they were bare inches apart. "You don't mind if I borrow this do you my dear?" It asked softly, and then reaching down it took the phaser gun from its holder on her hip.

Nara's eyes narrowed as the Dithparu responded, "You would do well to ask BEFORE grabbing it next time. Or should I remind you of..." She growled seeing her companion turning, obviously ignoring her.

Turning on its heel it aimed the phaser at the doorway and shot three blasts into the wall about it and then turning once more sprayed a volley across the floor and then one at the side of the shuttle.

"Now we must flee my friend!" It cried in excitement. "For we are under attack from creatures unknown, wielding Starfleet weapons stolen from our fallen comrades... we are forced to depart in this shuttle for the Galaxy!"

"After all, if we take this shuttle for no reason at all we may come under suspicion." It concluded breathlessly. <Thank you my good Vulcan, by all means continue to note the flaws in your puppet master and we shall become the closest of friends!> It added mentally. Kio did not deign to reply.

<Galaxy to Lieutenant Roswell...we are detecting phaser fire in the shuttlebay where you are situated. Please confirm the situation.>

She hit the badge on the uniform of her host, and answered flatly, "Situation under control in shuttlebay. We are returning with Mawaki. It has become too dangerous here."

After the signal closed and the two flesh-covered Dithparu were going toward the shuttle, the voice of Nara hissed, "Be more subtle you fool!"

The entity within Kio opened the hatch to the shuttle and shot Nara a look of contempt over its shoulder. "You would no doubt have simply stolen the craft quietly and then braved the obvious questions it would arise?" It asked sarcastically, all of its previous endearments towards its comrade seemingly at an end.

"It is obvious what is happening here! There would be no questions." However, she considered some things as she sat and scanned Nara's mind for information about the controls. As she pressed some buttons, she added, "We could have told those people we needed to leave and take them with us. Try to enthral them at least. You just killed them when we could have used them." She smiled seeing the information was correct, "Now use your host's memories to help me figure out how to fly this thing."

"I am not sure if I care for your tone." The Kio entity snapped back and then she caught a thought from Kio. "We should not be critical of each others methods my dear...we have the same goal however we might go about obtaining it." It continued, forcing a smile to its face. "I am ready, let us embark."

The eyes of Nara looked confused a moment as the entity tried to learn from grabbing things from her unwilling host. "Ah." She found a button, and tried to hide the uncertainty she got from her non-pilot host. She mind-spoke to Nara, ~Just think of it this way. If you're wrong, then Kio and you die. And it'll be all your fault.~

Luckily it seemed that no one was quite ready to die yet as the shuttle disembarked and made a faultless flight back to the Galaxy where it docked and its two passengers made their way out of the docking bay and into the ship.

"We must part ways...our objective will be more efficiently realised if we spread out over the ship." The entity within Kio said to Nara.

"You can go or you can stay and listen to my plan and save your host from the idea I have." The Dithparu in Nara had been conjuring up this idea for awhile. But it would take some planning and help. It was the fastest, most effective way to get this ship under their control.

"In that case my love I am all ears..." Said the entity within Kio.

Nara's face was forced to grin and then Nara heard the words in her own voice explaining the idea.

"Me, Myself, and III"

Ensign Zev Raynor
Terran Telepath
Intelligence Officer
Transferring to USS Galaxy

Raynor's Mental State:

Kanin Dithparu Invader / Betrayer
Raynor's Consciousness

Pariah Ronin
Raynor's True Self
Raynor's Subconscious

Madden
Alternate Persona
Raynor's Subconscious

Location: Deep Space Five – Corridors Heading towards the 'Structure'

Pariah watched with trained eyes. 'Seeing' at everything. Madden. Kanin. The surroundings. Damage. Bodies. Gravity. He took it all in without a backward glance, and if necessary could recall everything with such detail he could reprogram the experience into a holodeck. Partly because of his intelligence training, partly because he had a very good memory, and partly because since he was a child he could watch about a hundred things going on at once and react to it all.

In fact when flying in combat he always had the instinct to split the view screen up into four different windows, only one of which would face forward, the other three would show him other views which he kept switching every few seconds. He always had the ability to keep a fairly good idea of what was going on around him, remembering important details when they seemed almost irrelevant at the time. But since the time Rogue Cardassians, captured him with the aid of a Ferengi named Starke, his mind seemed, almost more capable than it was before. Genetic experimentation, he reminded himself, only visible end result was his Telepathy. Of course this development pleased the Cardassians greatly. They played around with his mind seeing how sane he could stay with the ability to hear other people's thoughts.

Normally, most telepathic beings break down quickly unless they establish a proper mental discipline, or defence as it's called in some cultures. Raynor didn't have that luxury, yet he remained, much to their surprise, relatively sane. He was already used to the idea of someone's thoughts inside his head that were not his own. Madden provided way too many back seat driver comments for him not to be used to it. Still it was a little weird to him, but maintained his sense of self. But what really drove him over the edge during that time were all the drugs they put in his system. He almost lost himself then, if it weren’t for Madden he would have. Madden who whispered torments back into Cardassians minds, driving them slowly mad. Pariah owed Madden a million times over for that, one act, even though Madden only did it to save his own skin. Of course if Captain Graham weren’t such an idiot in the first place, the Cardassians wouldn't have captured him. So to almost repay his debt to Madden, he simply did what only he would be crazy enough to do. He gave his own Captain a bloody nose, and mooned him in the same conversation. A conversation that was really a one-way verbal assault of insubordination. Of course his career after that was more or less over, it was surprising he was still in Starfleet.

But still ever since that time his mind fell ten times sharper. And as Kanin used his body to walk through station to this Structure/Pandora’s box/Trojan Horse/Whatever... if you could call it walking, the annoying magnetic boots were loud and annoying. Why didn’t they train their own personnel to walk in lesser gravity and no gravity at all properly? And more importantly why didn’t the Dithparu simply use Raynor's training? He almost asked when he simply realised that would involve probing Raynor's memories, and Kanin didn’t want to stretch himself too thin. And with Madden already on his case, it necessarily wasn't a bad line of thinking.

Madden of course was wasting no time tormenting the possessor with annoyances. Right now he was on the good old, “Are we there yet?” barrage, which consisted of the following:

~Where are we headed?~ Madden would begin. {What?} Kanin asked not knowing the trap he was walking into. ~Where are we headed?~ Madden repeated. {The Structure} Kanin finally answered, deciding there was no harm in Madden knowing. ~Oh… Are we there yet?~ Madden began his first wave. {Excuse me?} Kanin not seeing the cliché, had to ask, to figure out how trapped he was. ~Are we there yet?~ Madden repeated. {No.} Kanin replied. ~Are we there yet?~ Madden repeated. {No.} Kanin replied again, slightly more annoyed. ~Are we there yet?~ Madden repeated again. {NO.} Kanin 'shouted', clearly more annoyed.

And it went on for… well it was still going. Annoying to say the least. But clever, Madden enjoyed it and the barrage weakened his opponent. Pariah knew where this path led, the attack was so simple, yet so penetrating, so annoying, and not a conventional mental 'attack', in a sense cheating, because Madden was spending no effort on the attack, none of his concentration was wasted on it, yet it weaken Kanin's defence all the same. But it was slow. How long would it take for Madden to provoke Kanin to fight back out loud? How long would it take to get Kanin to buckle from the stress and lose his cool and control?

Too long, Kanin seemed to be a cool customer when it came to outward appearance at least, which made it difficult to make a noticeable crack in a mental defence. Kanin could turn his attention to both Pariah and Madden once his immediate objective of taking out the Structure was complete and he was far away from the Station and the Galaxy, on the Saint Lawrence.

Still Pariah just watched trying to make his mind, in a sense… his sense of morality pitted against his survival instinct. Each was grating on each other... Kanin was now fiddling around with the Tri-corder, which wasn't working currently. The ship's sensors hadn’t worked earlier neither, so Pariah's guessed was that something in the environment was wrecking havoc on that equipment. Pariah wasn’t too worried though; chances say that Kanin wouldn't be able to work it out. Because Raynor's skills with playing around with the settings were at best, crap.

But much to Pariah's surprise, it took only a few minutes for Kanin to get it to work. He wondered about it for a second while watching the readings... then his heart proverbial heart skipped a beat. Life signs. The reading was rough so he didn't exactly have a true count, but it was there... all in different locations all over the station... at least a dozen... probably more but it was rough.

But still... How did he do that? Then again, how was it that Kanin seemed that he knew his way around the station? How? How? How?

Then it hit him; the Betazoid Kanin killed... your standard yellow shirt with working knowledge and experience of the station and probably of sensor repair and modification. And probably a few other things as well... And here he was, the only Telepath whose mental defences were so unique, weak in some senses stronger in others that he could actually pick all those memories as the poor bastard suffered his last second in this life.

And then there were the dozen or so others on the station, and probably the thousand more on the Galaxy... his conscience was dictating that he act, and free himself by using all the trauma he contained in his body and experience all the pain and suffering and anguish that he suffered to over throw Kanin. To experience death itself as those around him had... and use it to force Kanin to leave. But in so doing he might die. And his will to survive was fighting the urge to go through with this plan... and then he realised something... if he didn’t fight it right now, right here, with everything he had to bare... he would be as good as dead anyways. Madden had gone through with an attack that he knew wouldn't work in time, not because it was the only kind of attack Madden had, but because it would weaken it for Pariah to finish the job.

Pariah began to calm himself and drifted towards sleep... to begin his dream... nightmare... and come back with a bloody hate filled traumatizing vengeance...

Or that warm fuzzy feeling where you find every little thing that happens is humorous... generally achieved when one is drunk or high... It's a difficult thing to control your unconscious, and get to give you what you want... you need either strength of will or mental discipline. Pariah had neither. That was a great source of comfort for him as he slipped into his own unconscious mind.

It began with sunshine... <It's going to be a long day> Pariah thought as he began down the happy peaceful path. <A very long day>

Meanwhile Kanin, put away the Tricorder redirecting the readings to his eye piece, while fighting off Madden's increasingly annoying questioning. Kanin would take a long indirect route to the structure as to avoid the groups scattered across the station. Though it was becoming increasingly more favourable to take the most direct route. He was unsure of his ability to deal with both his own Kind, and this Madden creature.

The only thing that truly occupied his thoughts was the one question, he found himself asking as often as Madden... Are we there yet?

OOC: Location and effects not mentioned, so anyone can be in the "area." More info below post.

"Chemistry 101"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Possessed by Un-named Dithparu

***USS Galaxy, Corridor***

She had the Engineering Kit at her hip. It was the same one that was taken to DS5. However, someone else was in charge of what was done with the tools inside.

Her host, Nara, was trying pretty hard to keep her captor from information. Oluw just pushed harder, ~I'll get the information no matter what, stubborn one. I guess you could be considered brave for trying. You're still weak, though. Never forget that.~

Nara could sense the condescending amusement of the Dithparu as it added, ~I know you're reminded of something. Don't deny it. Let it come and hit you full force. You have nothing now besides your own memories and mind, which you share with me.~

After the Dithparu focused on Nara's haunting memories a moment, she spoke again, ~Yes, they are much alike. Which is worse, Nara? Rape of mind or body? Oh, the interrogation too. That must had been painful. You're own people beating you for information. Well, this isn't much like that, is it? I'm not your people and you're not mine. So you understand if I don't care.~

There was no answer aside from further contempt. So what? These flesh vessels served only as what they were; vessels. The mind who was born into it meant nothing to her.

Oluw changed her focus to the task at hand, leaving Nara somewhat alone in her mind. As alone as anyone could be when you were pressed into a dark corner by an ever tormenting beast. Though she had this constant horrible companion, she felt more alone than ever before.

Problem was, the stupid parasite had got her pondering which of the three was worse. She had to figure this was. It wasn't physically as painful, but this was the most helpless she's been in her life. Professor Marks got a few punches and her interrogaters never got the information they sought. But here, she was completely weak and unable to stop events that her body would cause.

Nara's body was now crawling in the Jeffries Tube. She had informed her companion inside Kio of the plan. This was the first part of it. All the parts were pretty identical, involving many of the same steps, but were in different locations. The part she needed her comrade to know was that any Dithparu needed to not be in certain areas at certain times.

She now opened a hatch and looked at the controls, ~Ok, my pet, how do I do this?~

~I'm an Engineer, not a chemist.~ Nara answered tiredly from inside the trap in her mind.

Oluw reached deeper into her mind and found things no more advanced than Semester 1 Chemistry. ~No matter, I know enough about your physiology. Just lower these levels....Increase these....~ The mind-speaking stopped as Oluw concentrated on setting levels and timers. Not sure what they would do. She could tell by Nara's nervousness, it would be bad.

~Oh, your emotions will do you and your people in yet. Thank you.~

The air in the area changed for about fifteen minutes before the settings returned to normal, and the previous overwrite was deleted.

OOC: Guess this post needs a disclaimer on the off-chance that someone actually does read my posts…. Strong language, violence and a few other things I’ve probably forgot. Read at your own discretion.

Now the authors note: The format is cleared with Ian. Since everyone is either jp-ing or waiting for the episode to end I thought I’d try something different. Hate it, love it, print it and burn it.. feedback appreciated ;)

“Now see what I see.”

2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile.
USMC
Recon Mission Specialist

Evolution

ev-o-lu-tion

noun

A gradual process in which something changes into a different and usually more complex or better form. See Synonyms at development.

The process of developing. Gradual development.

Biology.

Change in the genetic composition of a population during successive generations, as a result of natural selection acting on the genetic variation among individuals, and resulting in the development of new species.

The historical development of a related group of organisms; phylogeny.

A movement that is part of a set of ordered movements.

2nd Lt Jebidah Baile

I left Sable sobbing with the rest of the ghosts and bodies. She could do what the hell she wanted for all I cared. I had given her the key to her own survival. Putting the key into the lock was up to her.

Not me.

What was happening to me? I sure as hell didn't know, but I had to admit I didn't mind. It was as if I could see everything clearer and not just in the darkness. The veils had been lifted from my mind and I saw... I saw what the universe was all about, the low down dirty rough truth.

Survival.

That was it. It all came down to being the last one alive at the end of the day.

I planned to live for a bloody long time.

A part of me was disappointed at the level of resistance the

Dithparu was giving me. Sure enough, some had been clever, almost a challenge, but they all had one trait in common - overconfidence.

It was a flaw in their armor, a hole that I almost felt ashamed to exploit.

But only almost.

So far Ioa had been the only one that had given me a run for the money, mainly because she had been the first one and I had to work out a tactics to use.

They ruled with pain, loved infliciting it on others. Not so hot on being at the recieving end though.

What a fucking joke.

Trying to take me down with pain.

I exist for that shit. It's my air. My Ketracel white.

The ship is filled with the fuckers. Seems like every brainsurfer has had their brain scrambled. Guess the shrinks are going to have a field day if we ever get out of this in one piece.

Personally I prefer the Dithparu to shrinks. At least the Dithparu

are no do-gooders. What they couldn't get - they killed. What the shrinks couldn't save they fucked up. Meds, discharges. Like they were on some goddamn powertrip.

I stop.

I can sense them further up. Evil knowing evil. Ksar, the last one I... killed, saw me for what I am right before I got rid of the host.

The light is fucked up. Just like most things on the ship by now.

Mutiny my ass. It's amatures night and we're all invited. Not sure who's the biggest threat - the Dithparu or the wanna-be soldiers that runs around acting tough?

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

I hear them come closer. Feels like my head is going to explode.

Took me a while to figure out what the hell the pounding was, but I know now.

Heartbeats. That's what I hear. Mostly when its dark. Then they become crystal clear. When I was a kid we hit dirt on some backwater planet that I can't remember the name of. Anyway. I remember it raining there, the first rain I had ever seen or heard that wasn't on some cheap holoproduction that had been copied a billion times.

Inside the ship the sound was distant, sort of muffled, but then the asshole calling himself my father took me outside and we stood underneath a tinroof and I could hear every single raindrop that hit it. A thousand voices singing the same tune.

Now I hear hearts. Makes no fucking sense but what in this sorry excuse for a universe does these days?

I take a step back into the shadows and the pain in my eyes takes a short breather, but I know that once I step back into the light it will be back in full force. It's ok though. Pain and me go back a long way...

They know I'm there. Somewhere. They've all been able to sense me, just like they seem to be able to sense every other more or less sentient being. Hmm. If that's the case then how the hell can they sense Klingons?

I hear two of them. The slow and steady beat of a Vulcan and something else. Guess I'm about to find out.

So I wait, I stand in the darkness perfectly still.

I make no excuse for what I am. I love fighting. I love the thrill of it. Combat forces you to focus on the moment and if you don't then you die. Draw on experiences but focus on the now. I've seen some damn good soldiers die needlessly cause they lived in the past. You've got to be able to improvise, adapt.. there's nothing more fluidic than combat. It's an ever changing state of being.

That's probably why I'm so good at it. I adapt. Never bend.

I've never been a POW. Ever. I'm too fucking good. I guess some would say that I can't understand the so called horrors of being a prisoner of war. Maybe. Then what the fuck do you think I've been doing to the enemy for the last ten fucking years?! I sure as shit haven't been sitting around a campfire singing songs - that's for damn sure!

They come into my view. One male Vulcan and one male Bajoran. I shrug mentally. Doesn't matter. I take a step away from the dark corner I've been standing in, silently. I know the Vulcan should be able to pick up the sound of my boots, but the Bajoran won't hear shit until Humpty next to him tells him I'm there.

He does.

They both turn around to face me and I can see the same tiresome charade about to be played again. You're weak. We're strong. Give up or die. Yadda yadda yadda. They've all said that and guess what? - I'm still standing you motherfuckers!

The Vulcan instructs to give up. I tell him to go screw a crocodile. The Bajoran aims a phaser at me. I tell him to put it away before he shoots himself in the eye. Does he listen? Nooo..

Well. I did warn him, didn't I?

Guess the Vulcan wants a piece of me. Dumb shit walks right into the line of fire, blocking the only thing that was keeping the two alive. Some think Vulcans are hard to kill. I disagree. Sure, if I tried to fight them on their terms, then it'd get tricky. Vulcans are strong as shit. Not that I'm weak, certainly not after all those glorious Starfleet Wonder-cocktails we got served during the Dominion War.

No, vulcans are not hard to kill. I fight on my terms. Always.

Accept the cards you're dealt - then cheat. I never play fair. The monkey tries to scare me, telling me how much he'll hurt me, how he'll tear the arms out of their sockets.

Like I give a shit. Same words. Same empty bullshit behind them.

I'm more of a monster than they'll ever be.

You run into the darkness and it will be me you'll find in there.

The monster.

I can tell he's just waiting for an opportunity to lay his hands on me, to mindmeld my brain into a liquid form. My mind to your mind and all that shit. This is going to be fun.

Vulcans are fast. Damn fast. But let me tell you. I'm no snail myself. I've been fighting people up close and personal for more then fifteen years and I don't mean out in the field. Every day is a war and I'm a damn good soldier. No, I mean duels, matches, the illegal prize fights. That's the good stuff. Walk on the razors edge.

Best fighter I've ever met was during a transfer on the Hornblower.

It pissed off the Fleeters to no end to be forced to run the bus for us Marines. It always does. Fleeters wants to be the most important thing in the universe since... mankind discovered masturbation.

Everywhere we come they have to piss territory. They're tougher, meaner and better than us in every way. Just take the pussies in the Hazard-teams.. what a bunch of has-beens. Couldn't care less.

If they want to do the dying then fine with me. More beer and women for us.

The Vulcan grabs me, well, he tries anyway. I've got to find someone that has taken over a real fighter. Maybe then it will be a real challenge. I lean back, making him lose the grip slightly.

Less than two seconds later he's baring his teeth against me, clutching the three broken fingers. How the hell did he not see that coming? I did everything but send him a card...

Some say Vulcans won't give into pain. Bullshit. Everyone and everything gives into pain. Enough pain applied to the right places. Even Satan himself will give in then. I will. I have. Stepped in a trap once. Nearly tore my foot off. Screamed my lungs off.

The Bajoran is trying to get a clean shot, but I keep the Vulcan between me and him. I can see the struggle inside the Vulcan. Hear his heart change rhythm. It's a beat I like. But all songs comes to an end. The Vulcan opens his mouth and starts a tiresome spew of insults and threats I couldn't care less about. If I'm so weak how come he's the one with three broken fingers?

He charges. I sidestep. I punch. He staggers backwards, hands

racing up towards his face.

And a broken nose.

If Starfleet is so tough, then why did they have to create the Marine Corps? If the Hazardteams are so damn skilled and dangerous, how come they're a bunch of useless babies that can't tie their own shoelaces unless given a ten page manual and a three week training program? Pathetic... I've never seen a bunch of weekend warrior wannabes strap on so much hardware than them and Security.. Fucking dolts.. how about they learned to use the bloody hardware properly and they wouldn't have to look like Borg rejects...

No, Vulcan's feel pain and they're not hard to kill either. There's no one on this ship I can't kill. No one. It's the one thing I'm good at. Everything I do leads up to someone getting killed. Isn’t that right, Maya?

Stupid Bajoran. The Dithparu probably thinks its a better fighter than noseboy.. I go right, he goes left. I punch the Vulcan one more time on the nose, pushing him backwards towards the Bajoran.

smile when the Bajoran realises he's running out of room. Running out of room is not good when I'm around. I'll be over you like the plague if you do.

I feign left, and goes right. In the darkness he only sees the first movement. By the time he sees me coming its already too late.

Now Maya. There's pain by the spades. Pain with some of the sexiest damn legs I know. She's my inferno. My purgatory on two legs. Do I want to kill her?

Yes.

Will I?

No.

She's probably the only punishment I've earned in my miserable existence. Every kill I've made I can justify in one sick way or the other. But not hers. Never hers. I killed her. Been in pain ever since. Besides. She's not real. I know that. She wants something from me, but I don't know what. Don't really give a shit either.

She can have it.

All she has to do is ask.

OOC: Same disclaimer as before. Read at your own discretion.

“Now see what I see.”

2nd Lt Jebidiah Baile.
USMC
Recon Mission Specialist
USS Galaxy

The knife is already in my hands, but I can tell by the look on the Bajoran's face he's got no idea how it got there. I could tell him.

Could show him just how fast it can get there. Or not. I go in low, my hand relaxed, balancing the knife comfortably. Don't fight me when I got a knife in my hand. Ever. I think the Bajoran pretty much gets that as the blade cuts the backside of his hand wide open. It continues making a deep cut on the lower arm, cutting off tendons. His arm is useless before his brain takes note of it. I pass him, letting the knife cut the triceps in half. My free hand catches his injured hand even before the bleeding really starts. I twist it backwards and up, forcing him to bend forward.

As the knife finally ends up in the Bajoran's shoulder, buried to the hilt his brain registers. He knows he lost. I'm the better killer.

I think his name was Schmidt or Schimmer or something. A shy sort of guy. His mates in the platoon had to persuade him to enter the ring. Don't know what the fuck he did in military. The guy had a soul of a poet. You could say I was the favourite in that match. The Marines knew me. They had seen me beat the crap out of my opponents without breaking a sweat. An honest to God real fucking killer.

That was me.

The moron even apologized that he was going to hit me. I remember grinning at him and telling him to give me his best shot.

In the corner of my eye I see the Vulcan charging me. Like I said.

Fast. He slams me into the wall, but he never sees that his tackles never loosens my grip on the knife. It is yanked out of the Bajoran's shoulder in the most painful of ways.

I drop low as he tries to punch me. His fist hits the wall with a satisfying crunch. Guess the fool doesn't remember that even Vulcans are subject to walls and superstructures just like the rest of us.

Schimdt's first punch, or Schimmer or what ever the hell his name was, I can't remember, nearly tore my head off. I had never been hit so hard in my entire life. Ever. Never been hit like that afterwards either. His second punch broke my jaw clean off. The kid was fast like a cobra and hit like an elephant on a bad trip. I started fighting for my life, I remember that much. The guy was a natural. He was, without a doubt, the best boxer I had ever seen and I've seen quite a lot of fighters in my time. Cyborgs had hit me with less force than he did and he made it look simple.

That, Sportsfans, is the mark of a true master. Making it look easy.

My knife finds its mark as I crouch down in front of my assailant, or maybe I should call him prey? I guess I'm the hunter now. He falls backwards, screaming as a the knife cuts off both his Achilles' tendons. Trademark that. Doesn't matter how big or how strong they are. Cut those off and they go down. Often screaming.

Blood is starting to ooze out of the cuts and I can smell it. It stings my senses for a second. Vulcan blood smells of copper. Not iron like human blood.

Don't ever attack me when I have a knife in my hand. Doesn't matter if you're the Queen of swords or Lancelot. I'll cut you into pieces. Kali-Escrima masters could take lessons from me. I'm a fucking artist with a knife.

I take war at face-value. I don't hide behind a bunch of fancy regulations or so called diplomacy. What the fuck has diplomats done but to fuck up and cause wars? Sure, sometimes their asses locks up and they have to use their brains and maybe, just maybe peace is the result.

Then someone farts and it’s back to square one.

Is there any organisation that's a bigger hypocrite than The Federation of United Planets?

The Bajoran is grasping his shoulder. It has all happened to fast for him. He sees me rise up on my feet again, Death standing next to me eating a bloody Mars-bar. Death is my buddy. My chum. My pal. I think that had I ever married Maya then Death would have been my best man. Personally I think Death is a woman. We go way back him and me. The Bajoran tries to speak, but I guess he's having another conversation inside his head.

I started out with thai-boxing, which in my opinion is one of the most evil forms of martial arts in existence. Sure. You got all the bullshit arts like good old Krav-Maga.. also knows as probability

fighting. What idiot sets up a martial art that is based on how the enemy is likely to strike?! Let's just say that I've never had a problem with those fools. Then you have kung-fu, karate - what a waste of time that is, combat-jutsu and about a million others.

Fine. I was good. I was damn good. Let's face it - it probably wouldn't have mattered what I trained - it involved hurting others and that's where I'm numero Uno..

When I was, oh, sixteen something, I went my first match. Fuck what a rush. I lost of course. All I knew was thai-boxing. Now there's no name to how I fight. My style of fighting is composed of bits and pieces from every corner of the bloody galaxy. If it can hurt someone then there's a good chance I know it.

The Bajoran drops to his knees, grimacing in pain. Maybe grimacing is too weak a word for what he does. Twisting his face into something Picasso would have been proud of is a more apt description. I guess I shouldn't gloat but who's gonna stop me? I lean down and look at him, asking him if it hurts.

I'm an evil person.

The fifth punch knocked me out cold. I spent five days in the sickbay after that. Of course those fights were illegal as hell so everyone testified that I had fallen down a staircase. No one could prove the opposite except the Hornblower didn't have staircases.

Still everyone kept to their story so blindly that I think had we continued on that bus then the maintenance crew would have started looking for a staircase that wasn't on the blueprints

I think I slept with the doctor that patched me up. Fuck me if I can remember her name though.

There is one bigger hypocrite. Starfleet. The shiny and wonderful medal in the Federation’s little jewellery box. If everything is so peachy and dandy, then why do people like me exist? Get off your high horses Fleeters and take a good look around… Cause I will never care about Doves, Hawks, Pelicans or whatever the hell you call yourselves. It doesn’t matter who runs the boat. You’re just as much of an hypocrite as the next guy. In the end you’ll send people into war and when that goes south you’ll call in the heavy hitters – Us, the Marines. So you see – at least us Jarheads, as you like to call us, don’t hide behind fancy words. And people wonder why I have problems with authority? Fuck…

Guess the conversation in the Bajoran's head came to an end. About bloody time. His heartbeat is racing, but I can still hear how the Dithparu wins. Guess that stupid son'o'bitch didn't know when to quit.. He grabs the phaser on the floor with his good hand and starts aiming it at me. This is too bloody easy.

Maya. Why the hell did you have to come back? I was doing fine torturing myself for your death without any assistance. Now I'm reminded every time she appears. She doesn't accuse me, but we both know she doesn't have to. Seeing her is all that's needed. Bleed on the outside. Bleed on the inside.

I sweep the Bajoran's feet and grabs the arm holding the phaser. In a simple move I have him on the floor, stomach down, sitting on his back. I bend his arm up until he's screaming in pain.

I tell him that he should have dropped the phaser when I told him.

I really didn't want him to shoot himself in the eye. The armlock is painful, but he's about to experience pain on a whole new level.

With a quick twist I break his elbow and he starts to howl. I can hear the breaks scrape against each other as I press his arm further up.

His breath is short, he's close to passing out. Gotta give him kudos for being able to stand it for this long. I guess I could have killed the hosts or just knocked them out without any fuss, but they pissed me off. Ioa pissed me off. Now, when they've found a new host after I've killed the old one they actually turn around and run. Guess the pain is still fresh in their mind. Not fun to be at the receiving end.

The Bajoran feels the tip on the phaser touch the back of his head.

He knows what's coming. I'm not sure if it's the Bajoran or the Dithparu that is crying. Don't really care. I press the trigger and a fine beam cuts through his skull like it was hot butter. The stench of burnt hair and flesh hits me like a hammer. Takes me back to battlefields I long left behind.

I'm back up on my feet after a few seconds. I toss the phaser to the side. It clatters against the bulkhead. Thin wisps of smoke raises from the hole in the Bajoran's head.

Ain't war hell?

I take war at face value. It's dirty. It's horrible. Why else would

we want to stop?

The Vulcan is trying to crawl away. Maybe I should let him? It has to cause one hell of a conflict in his head.. the Dithparu trying to block out the pain AND a Vulcan. Good luck at that, asshole. But I'm not really into the whole leaving a living enemy behind me.

No one wins all the time. Not me. Not you. No one. I've lost fights and battles. We never failed a single mission with the Crows, but we lost plenty of battles that were not of our choosing. But the once we did choose - we won.

Maybe I will lose today. Maybe I won't.

In war no one wins. Only idiots thinks that wars can be won. In war there are two kinds of people - those unlucky enough to survive another day and everybody else.

I feel... melancholic as I walk up to the Vulcan. I crouch down in front of him and help him sit up against the wall. He knows what category he belongs to. Of us two he's the winner.

He looks at me. Both looks at me. The Dithparu raises an eyebrow, but I shake my head. He nods. Then he surprises me.

I think he even surprises himself.

He asks me to make it clean. The Vulcan has suffered enough because of him. I hear none of the usual gloating.

He's tired, just like me.

He's not leaving. This is the end of the line for him. Guess even evil wants it all to end when the cup of sorrows is filled.

The Vulcan looks at me. He's scared of me and it confuses him.

Sorry bud, but I'm not logical. I can hear the Dithparu talk to him. I can hear it in the heartbeats. He breathes calmer. He knows what's coming.

I pull the knife out. Damn thing is just as sharp as the day I got it. Guess we had to do something with the wonders of technology - let's make a blade that won't go dull unless you toss it in plasma.

The blade smells of metal. It smells dry. Most metals have a more.. wet.. smell to them. Not sure why though. But this smells dry. And blood of course. I guess that if pain could be labelled with a smell then this blade would reek of it.

Again the Vulcan looks at me. Is it pity I see in his eyes or understanding? I keep my face neutral.

He nods.

They both nod.

Every race has a sweet spot. A place where death is instant no matter what. It's the ultimate killzone. Death comes before you know its there.

You just cease to exist. From one moment to the other.

I don't think the Vulcan even notices the pain. He's dies painlessly. Quick. Just like it should be. The Dithparu would never have left the Vulcan.

All three of us knew that.

Now the three of us goes our seperate ways.

In war no one wins. Only idiots thinks that wars can be won. In war there are two kinds of people - those unlucky enough to survive another day and everybody else.

I'll never win.

"Friends and Betrayers!"

An NPC sideshow.

Soundtrack: "Slaying the Dreamer" By Nightwish (Corgan lights up Foxtrot patrol scene)

********
Deck 29
********

"Bravo Patrol to security." Lieutenant Caruso rapped at his comm badge, hoping to loosen whatever bug crawled into its machinery.

Ensign Maryweather pleaded, "Try it again."

Lieutenant Caruso lost his patience with his patrol mate, snapping, "You tried it. I tried it. Everyone in the goddamn squad has tried it. Communications are offline ever since the Captain FUBAR'ed our systems. We can't get a hold of anyone or anything. We've been circling around this deck for hours, and our relief hasn't even come. I've already clued in that something's wrong. How about you? And while we're at it, will you tell me something that will help us out?!"

Ensign Maryweather shrugged, "Something will turn up."

Caruso looked at his partner with a blank, unbelievable look. "I... hate you."

"What?" Maryweather asked, unsure of himself and his partner.

Caruso replied, "Please shut up. The boss left me with alot of dumb partners in my day, but you take the cake."

"Hey!" Maryweather whined, hurt, "I'm not dumb."

"Kid, you're dumb, and it's not just the single pip on your collar that says so." Caruso quipped, "You have yet to contribute a single productive idea in our six months of ship patrols. Do you remember the last time something intelligent came out of your mouth?"

Maryweather thought a moment, "Sure. I figured out a foolproof way to catch Barnes in the shower. Remember?"

Caruso slapped his forehead, "Sadly yes, and sadder still it was ingenious. Every try to use your brains for practical purposes?"

Maryweather blinked, "I dunno."

"I dunno he says!" Caruso imitated his doltish friend, cutting it with a borderline retarded drawl. His frustration towards his friend vented, he went back to the crisis at hand, "We need to get in touch with security. I'm sick of patrolling these halls. Lima patrol should have been here two hours ago. I'm sure nobody will miss us if we left our post and dragged Lieutenant T'lan here by her pointy Vulcan ears."

"Won't the Commander scream at us?" Maryweather asked.

The main vein on Caruso's forehead throbbed, his New Yorker temper flaring to a critical point, "Do you think I care?"

"Ummmm... I...."

"Shaddup!" Caruso smacked his friend on the shoulder. Maryweather rubbed the offending spot, as Caruso said, "The commander can scream me to the stone age later. Something's up. Even with the computer systems all screwy, communications should still be online. I want to know straight from security central itself why we can't talk to no one. C'mon!"

"Oh.... alright." Maryweather shrugged, giving in to his pushy friend's whims.

Bravo patrol walked deck 29 until they found the turbolift. Caruso, eager and impatient to reach security, rushed to the controls and punched in the co'ordinates. Seconds later, the turbolift whooshed open, ready to take anyone in...

As soon as it disgorged its passengers. A security team, led by a Vulcan man with a glassy stare and filled to the ranks with two rifle wielding ensigns from his soccer team, a female Betazoid in science blue, and a female transporter officer Caruso recognized as one of the regulars at Ten Forward's ladies night, moved out of the turbolift in squad formation. Brandishing rifles, the squad looked ready for a war. The squad, aside from the Vulcan and the Betazoid, had eyes that looked distant and vacant, as if they were dreaming of another reality. It was this distinguishing feature that scared Caruso, and gave Maryweather cause for concern.

"Hey you guys." Caruso halted the team, "Where do you guys think you're going?"

No time to hear the answer, Caruso, then Maryweather, felt the momentary burning stings of the squad's weapons, falling into blackness as pain engulfed them.

****** Zulu Patrol ******

Zulu Patrol was having a bad day. Worse than usual in fact.

And it, for once, wasn't about the jovial Denobulan Lieutenant E'xch's verbal flagulance.

Said Lieutenant and his patrol partner, Lieutenant Shelly Anne O'Rourke, thought they were quelling a domestic disturbance when their security patrol was called in to respond to a threat.

What they got held more surprises than what they were used to.

The first was a Naussican, snarling and growling at the skies and the heavens, bashing in tables and chairs as it clutched its head and bellowed half of its brainmass out.

The next surprise came when the growling stopped, and the screaming and charging at the patrol group began. E'xch was first to draw his phaser, but as he attempted to fire, the phaser sputtered, let out a forlorn chirrup, and died in his hands. Much to the chagrin of Lieutenant O'Rourke, she found that her phaser too decided to cease all function, leaving the patrol to forlornly look forward to six hundred pounds of charging, slavering muscle.

"Jesus Christ! LOOK OUT!" O'Rourke shoved the Denobulan and herself out of the way, turning the crew quarters they entered into a further wreck as they tumbled over a table, while the Naussican rammed furniture out of the way like children's toys.

E'xch panicked, "What the hell happened to our phasers?"

"I don't know! EyaaaaaH!!!" O'Rourke scrabbled out of the way, watching as the Naussican's hamlike fist pummelled air and floor that once occupied her prone body.

In a rolling crouch, E'xch checked his phaser. "Power's on. But the shipwide security overrides are activated!"

"AHHH!" O'Rourke screamed, keep the Naussican from running her over with deckplate thumping stomps, "O'Rourke to security! HELP US! Weapons down, patrol in trouble! SEND BACKUP!"

Her cries for help went up in vain. The communicator badge squealed in protest, then outright refused to send her call for help. The Naussican, growing smart from O'Rourke's game of keepaway, decided to toss aside the crumpled chair that kept the two away from each other.

"E'xch to security! We need backup!" The Denobulan's panicky fingers fumbled both his comm badge in one hand, and a set of neural restraint handcuffs in the other, not doing either particularly well.

"Gah!" O'Rourke yelped, her fingers probing at the Naussican's hand as it grabbed the front of her tunic, "Forget the stupid communicator and help me!"

O'Rourke, in the clutches of the yellow skinned monster, hammered at its bulging, muscular arm, clawing, gripping and punching the arm until it either came loose, or her efforts and the Naussican's attacks tired her out. The arm didn't move, her body swung like her childhood rag dolly. The match of muscle was one sided. The Naussican would shake her to pieces before long.

E'xch charged into the fray, an elbow strike to the back of the head staggering the brute, if only slightly. He kept on with his assault, punching, kicking, fumbling for the neural restraint handcuffs on his belt. The Naussican, fed up with the mosquitolike tactics, backhanded the Denobulan away, sending him crashing into a shelf full of books.

The Naussican was not enraged. "For Mistress!!!!!!!!!!" It bellowed, his four fangs jutting out and dripping angry drool. It lifted O'Rourke from the floor, ignoring her frantic clawing. In one deft movement it threw O'Rourke back first into the ceiling, the caught her neck, squeezing the thin, frail, human appendage.

Her vision turning red, her lungs screaming like clogged boilers begging for a pressure release, her body wracked with bruises, O'Rourke was almost ready to give up.

Almost.

She wanted to say a snappy one liner, but due to the restraints on her slowly imploding voicebox, decided to surprise the Naussican with her actions alone. Her hand clamped on the neural cuffs at her hip, holding on with monumental effort as the Naussican shook her to pieces. As soon as she was allowed a firm grip, she had to use every effort to bring the restraints to bear.

She clamped a restraint on the Naussican's choking arm, but it yet to activate. The restraint needed to lock onto two limbs in order to work.

The only alternative afforded to her she took right away, for fear of passing out. She clamped the other end of the restraint on her own arm!

The Naussican's right arm, and her left arm, both fell deadnerved. The sausage sized fingers enclosing around her neck let go, freeing her and allowing her a lungful of most welcomed fresh air. The Naussican looked baffled, shook its useless arm, and growled with rage, attacking blindly. The nimble human, even at these close quarters and deadened in one arm, kept out of the reach of the alien's other arm, and once the opening presented itself, kicked into the creature's stomach.

The monster let out a great whoosh of air. There, O'Rourke, gasping for breath, took her chance. Coming in breath to breath, she braced the Naussican's body on her hip, and with her useful arm snaring the naussican's dead one, judo hipthrown the massive alien. Her face red, her scream blindingly painful, she managed to toss the six hundred pound mass and land ontop of it in a conflaguration of dust plumes and debris.

The Naussican was breathing lightly. It took a hit on the head, its blood running slowly into his hair. Now recovered, E'xch placed his neural restraints on the creatures arms, and freed O'Rourke.

"Not bad." E'xch commented.

O'Rourke replied raspily, "Yes. Not bad."

"Would have been nice if SECURITY HELPED US!" E'xch yelled at particularly no one, and threw up his arms testily.

In the afterglow of her victory, she almost forgot to ask that question herself. "What the hell is going on out there?"

"Sharing Is Caring"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
Possessed by Oluw, Dithparu
Featuring Ioa, Dithparu

***Jefferies Tube***

Oluw had the plan worked out. She'd hit an area here, move on and wait about fifteen more minutes. Five minutes until the settings changed, giving her time to move her host and herself out of there. The default settings would resume in fifteen minutes, but she could start in another area five minutes prior. Pretty much making it like a tornado chasing a path.

If she needed to, she could start at the beginning point and do this again and again until all the non-telepath, un-enthralled people were dead. She changed the settings each time as well, not sure which would be fatal or simply annoying.

The thought didn't dare cross her mind that she could be caught.

The thought did cross Nara's.

Part of her feared that if caught, anyone would think to kill the being who hosted the monster. She would.

Yet, if that's what it took, she would die in honor. She hoped.

Ioa had no luck in finding anyone. The few she did find were unconcious on the floor of a cargo bay. Then she sensed her. One of her own. Oluw, to be exact. So off she went to find her.

She did find her, occupying a small frame of a body that had to be at least partly Betazoid, the other, likely human, she assumed from the eye coloring, having a lighter color than is custom for Betazoids.

Oluw knew she was being watched. She finished up her work and crawled on to another location, knowing she was being followed.

Nara sensed something happening, but was still putting most of her energy into pushing back the invasiveness. Which took more work as she felt another mind probing her, but not yet dwelling there.

Oluw stopped when she got to the next area, and sat against the wall, resting the host's body. Not for the sake of the host, but it was harder to control a body that was weaker from strain. She mind spoke to Ioa, ~What makes you think I want to share her? You somehow lost a host already. I don't think I trust you.~

Ioa seemed to be carressing what little of Nara's mind Oluw allowed. ~The body was weak.~

Oluw looked down at the body she now wore, ~This one is pretty small too.~

~Aw, but not a measly counselor. This one has known war and fighting.~

~I will share, but only until you find another host and I'm in control, got it?~

~You know I'm the stronger of us. I could push you out in a moment.~

~You're the most arrogant. You are the one to try things most won't, but that doesn't mean you're able. Is that how you lost the other host?~

~No, I left her. As I said she was too weak.~

~You were caught.~

~I left before the host was killed.~

~Coward.~

Inside, Nara felt the argument and then an onslaught of more pressure. It was as if pressure was applied to Oluw, which caused more pressure for Nara.

~STOP! Before you kill her!~ Oluw demanded.

~Then share!~

Nara felt a release of pressure, as small as the release was. There was still much pressure. Then a second presence.

~You keep her pushed back. She's been quite annoying.~ Oluw asked as she controlled Nara's body to begin work on the panel. Five minutes were up.

Taking the idea from the encounter with Baile, Oluw created a little mind-room and brought Nara inside. Nara had experienced these mental visuals before. It brought some tangibility to things. Which at the moment, she hadn't hoped for. "What?" She asked weakly, using her 'voice.'

Ioa, creating a tall, dark, slender form for herself, approached and came mere inches from Nara. "She's doing the dirty work, so I figure I could do some experiments for study. We plan on using you humanoids for a long time. It would make it easier the best we know you."

"You take our minds." Nara backed away, feeling the strain of vainly pushing them both back and having a conversation with this one.

"Yes, but you never let us in fully. By the time you're too weak to fight anymore, you're dying. What good is it then? How can we take you fully, keeping your psyche awake, yet completely vulnerable?" Ioa touched Nara's head hungrily.

Nara tried to back away, but was held in place. The touch was a visual of Ioa actually focusing on certain areas of Nara's psyche. Nara kept trying to back away and asked, "What do you want from us?"

"Your bodies."

"But why?"

Ioa looked Nara in the eye angrily, feeling Nara's defenses weaken as she applied further pressure, "Is it fair that you get to feel the things flesh-wearers feel when we don't?"

Nara grimaced and then felt another pang of something while the visual vanished and she heard her two captors speak to each other again.

~We can torment them when we've secured the ship. Her mind is connected to this body, and the pain makes it harder to think.~ She heard Oluw speak.

Nara felt Ioa take a place as simply an enforcer, keeping Nara's defenses at bay, allowing Oluw to simply 'drive' her body.

"Supression"

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

Ens. Vortas
Counterintellgence Specialist (PCC - Mike)

These things in his mind, that had taken over his body, were getting quite irrtating. Between them they wouldn't shut up. They had overwhelmed his mental barriers with little effort and now the real Vortas sat hanging in a cage in his own head. Letheans normally built mental prisons for their victims too, now he was stuck in one.

~Wow! This vessel has interesting abilities. It can suck memories right out of people! I can't wait to try it!~ the first Dithparu said, apparantly being the more...energetic one.

~Yeah, and it looks sinister too. Most enjoyable. Oh, and its in intellegence. Vortas is its name.~, the second said as it poked the real Vortas sitting in the cage.

~Now, to join the others. Seems like there's one in a room on this level.~ The first said as it started to walk the Lethean's body down the corridor.

Sensing the approach of the other beings, the one controlling Counselor Elessidil's mind and body looked up from his task. Brian had been a helmsman for a number of years, and his experience on the Agincourt and Miranda provided It with sufficient knowledge of this ship to cause trouble. It had found It's way to the main flight control systems on deck 39 and was working to bypass the helm controls on the bridge. It wanted to make sure this new ship didn't go anywhere until the rest of It's kind were firmly in control. "You have found a capable host," It said, looking at the Dithparu-controlled officer. "It is, can do cool stuff too!", the more child like Dithparu said through Vortas' voice, not quite having mastered it.

"It should prove useful." The more serious one replied. "I have found this host to be of exceptional value. He has useful knowledge about the workings of this ship, and he has a unique ability to gain the trust of many of the other humans."

"This one is in intellegence, so he has a higher security access than some. He can also rip the memories from the minds of others and incapacitate or kill them in the process.", the serious one replied, more in tune with the 'real' Vortas

~But I wouldn't try that, its hard to control. ~ Vortas sneered at the entity from inside his cage.

~Too bad for you then!~ , it replied.

Elessidil smiled in response. "Yes, this species too has significant telepathic ability, yet another tool at my disposal." It greatly enjoyed having this vessel. The sights, the sounds, the feeling of movement within a completely self-contained corporeal form, these were all experiences It was quickly becoming accustomed to. Suddenly, the counselor looked down at the consol It had been working at. Without any warning, the controls had gone off line. "What have they done?" It asked rhetorically, the surprise muted but still evident in Its voice. In vain, It tried to regain control -- the consol offered not even the slightest response.

"These humans are more crafty then the ones on the station, they should be a challenge. But I think we have another problem. A group of the humans they call "marines" are on this deck. It might be wise to...neutralize them." At first, the Elessidil Dithparu said nothing, Its focus still on the unexpectedly dead consol. Frustrated, but resigned for the moment that it was better to focus on other options until It could determine what was going on with the ship's systems, It then looked up at Vortas. "What are they doing?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure they're preparing defenses. I saw it on one of their scanning devices. We might not be able to reach them without harming these hosts.", the serious Dithparu personality said.

~Damn right you won't....whatever you call yourself. Starfleet command isn't even that fortified~ Vortas smirked as he berated the entity.

~Silence!~ it replied as the other one spoke.

"I don't wanna lose this one! I like it! "

The Elessidil Dithparu stared at the other for a moment. Not only could It hear what the other was saying, It could telepathically "hear" the internal conversation as well. The one occupying this Vortas was one of the odder of their kind, It thought. Damn kids.

"Then we shall disrupt those preparations," It finally declared. "Come." With that, the counselor headed for the door, the other trailing in his wake.

"Very well, lets go.", the serious one said as began to follow along,taking Vortas with them

"Yay! We finally get to hurt humans!" the more juvenile Dithparu personality seemed to be overally pleased with himself. Vortas was beginning to hate that one. At least the other one seemed properly ruthless and serious. I mean, if you were going to take over a body, you should be mature enough to use it.

"Um, so, whats like, the plan. We going to get some big guns and start shooting huh, huh!"

The counselor kept moving, still focused on the task at hand. "That would only serve to get us injured or killed. We are too severely outnumbered for an armed confrontation. We must be more cunning if we are to stop them."

~Now what would you do Mr. Spy boy~ the serious one said, already knowing what he'd have to do.

~Go to whatever hell you beleive in ~ Vortas said smirking

~Figured youd say that. I'll just have to dig in your mind.~

Vortas fealt his whole mental self flare in agonizing pain as the two Dithparu tore into his memories and expereince.

~Yay! Hmmm....well...look what we have here! Ah, there we go! Thanks Mr Man!"

"Mr Spy here thinks we should go to that cargo bay over there and get something that we might be able to blow up. Something in there called...erthalite...or somethin like that. "

Elessidil abruptly halted. "Does he really?" It asked in a mildly mocking tone. "This task will require your full focus, it is not a game. Silence the host mind and then the two of you work in tandem, or one of you will have to find another host." It was tiring quickly of the three-way internal bickering; even Dithparu had their limits. "The cargo bay you mention is precisely where I was headed. I was hoping we would find something there that would serve our purpose; the substance you mention will do just that." He then resumed his course.

"Very well" , the serious one took back control, giving the 'kid' the Dithparu equivilant of a glare. ~Now, you be QUIET!~ As the Dithparu looked at the real Vortas, he crumpled against the back of his cage, now chained and gagged as well.

"Done, lets go", the serious one accelerated Vortas, getting to the cargo bay in only a few seconds. "The stuff sould be a small red containers. We'll need at least 500 human grams of the stuff to collapse the corridors".

"You search the area to our right, I'll take the left. If you find any, gather as much as you can."

Vortas, if you could call him that anymore, simply nodded and went off looking for the material. After having little initial success, he looked at the scanning device in the host's hand. After scanning for a moment he looked to a stack of containers towards the back of the bay on an upper shelf.

"Up there"

Turning from Its examination of some large crates, the Elessidil Dithparu moved toward Vortas' indication. It smiled. "Excellent." Even with the counselor's reasonable height, the containers were still just beyond Its reach. It slid another large, flat crate in front of the shelves and climbed on top of it. "Take these and set them by the doorway," It said to Its accomplice.

After It had retrieved several containers of the compound, It jumped down from the crate and moved to where the Vortas Dithparu had set it. "Not the most efficient material -- a fraction of this amount of trilithium would be far superior -- but it will serve our purpose. We will need something to act as a catalyst for . . . . ah, of course. Give me your host's communication device," it said.

"Ah, yes, it can be made to function as a detenator. Give me a moment, this host has done this before." , Vortas' Dithparu said pulling a tool out of its hosts' belt which it used to open the combadge and made some minor adjustments.

"We can use its scanner thingy to activate it. Here ya go" throwing the badge to the other dithparu.

It caught the modified badge -- how much It continued to enjoy this physical form -- and taking it and two of the containers, moved to the door. "Now let us go and determine the best place to set our trap."

It looked down the scanner device the host was carrying and looked at the internal schematics. It had to be a spot where they could do the most damage with the equipment available, but not breach the ships hull or do any major damage...and not get shot up.

"Here, section 3. We should be able to do enough damage and activate enough of their supression systems to seal in the soldiers. We'll need to be here, section 4a, near their elevator system to get out. Shall we?"

Carefully, the two set about distributing the explosive compound where it could be the most effective. As It worked, It maintained a telepathic vigilance to ensure no one came upon them unexpectedly. After a few moments, everything was in place. "Now, I will set this device in place and we shall activate it with the tricorder you hold."

"Very good. Lets go." the Vortas Dithparu said as it ran towards the safe place it had suggested. Once there, in the interest of time, he activated the bomb. The loud explosion and the activation of the fire supression systems confirmed the improvised device's success.

"Yay! We did it! Now lets go up and play with the others!"

The Elessidil Dithparu gave the other a withering look. "Very well. We have achieved our goal and hopefully have stopped the human marines. You can go . . . play. I have other matters to attend to." It then took Its leave.

OOC: This takes place between the OPS AWAY TEAM post 1 and 2. Darkstar will be back in the team mix in OPS part 3.

"Don't let the door hit ya..."

With Lt. Raven Darkstar, Tactical.

Location: Deep Space 5
Time: Just after the away team's arrival in ops.

Darkstar held his position as the members of his Away Team funneled into the OPS CENTER, his head cocked as if he were listening to something nobody else could quite hear. There was something around them. Since they beamed aboard the station, the former Security officer had been aware of something, but he didn't know quite what it was that he was aware of.

He sniffed the air twice, then kneeled down and ran his large hand, palm open, across the deck plates in slow circles.

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

The Indian was certainly no telepath. Nor was he as empathic as some of the Betazeds on the ship. He was, however, sensitive to certain things that he had described in sessions with Counselor Dallas as simply "not quite beyond".

When he was younger, he had always heard the whispers about the elders of his tribe being able to see things that few others could. It was rumored that his own father, a tribal shaman, had been able to speak to his father and his father's father before that, even though both had crossed over before Darkstar had even been born. He had dared not speak of such a thing aloud out of fear that Leo Streely would somehow find out, and proclaim him a Jeedai as Leo had once believed himself to be during Captain Price's final days aboard the USS GALAXY.

Darkstar had recently embraced his heritage more then he had in previous years and as such, his senses seemed to becoming more attuned to his environment then most people's were.

His senses now told him that there was evil nearby.

A thick, black, inky evil.

The tricorder he carried showed no anomalies within his general vicinity. He slipped it back in it's holster and moved slowly down the main corridor leaving the Away Team behind him. He could hear Ensign DiMillo's voice murmuring, but around those sounds he could hear whispers. They were unnatural and as much as he focused, Raven couldn't make sense of what he was hearing.

He moved with caution, stepping toe first in his well worn, leather hunter's boots. His advances down the hall made no sound, yet he could hear the whispers growing louder, being carried in the air like the rustling like dead leaves.

The corridor was filled with a thick, decaying feeling. With each step he took, a rising feeling inside him made him feel as though he were walking deeper through a graveyard.

To his left was a narrow hallway lined with access doors. The path to his right led to an open turbolift.

The Indian reached into the small medicine bag, worn at his hip, and withdrew a long, black raven feather. He held it high then released it.

The feather fell with a slow spiral and when it landed, its tip pointed in the direction of the access hatches.

The colossal officer picked up the feather and gently replaced it back in his pouch, then focused his attention on the smallest hallway. It was narrow. Very narrow. He would have to watch that his shoulders didn't brush the walls as he walked.

The door at the end of the corridor was open partially. It moved a fraction, sending tiny squeak into the air.

Darkstar slipped into the narrow walk space between the bank of hatches, each closed with a small red light lit to indicate the fact it was locked.

The dimly lit hall felt noticeably colder. His skin felt as though it were exposed to a late November wind. When he exhaled, he could see his own breath. (Danny Phantom in the hiz-zouse!) Still he moved foreword, creeping cautiously towards the open door. As he passed other access hatches, he saw frost form on their doors.

The red lights also turned green.

The mountain of a man tensed his muscles at reached out to the open hatch, pointing his shoulder to it as to minimize his target mass.

He opened the door and shadows slowly rolled out like a cauldron spewing smoke, nearly masking what little light was available.

The fight or flight instinct kicked in and since he was unable to physically grab hold of an enemy, he opted to retreat back down into the main hallway.

An access hatch to his right snapped open with tremendous force. He took a step back and was struck high in the shoulder blades by a hatch door behind him whipping open.

He barely had time to bring his arms up over his head before all the doors began to violently swing open, striking him from all angles. He could feel blood bring drawn and bones breaking, yet he churned foreword until he exited the maintenance hall.

He fell to his knees, and the corridor fell silent.

The whispers were gone.

The access hatch doors hung open silently.

Darkness pulled at the officer and he slumped to the floor.

"The Ghost and the Darkness" (Part III)

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 II)>

== Main Computer Control ==

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.

Nieca jumped back as the jammed door of the upper corridor violently slammed shut with Tish's words, the door sealed it's slef tightly, locking them in.

"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.

Jack tried to fight it. He'd fought it before. Whatever was assaulting his mind, whatever oppressive force that had taken him for a few moments, was back and trying again.

This time he lost.

He began to laugh Maniacally, his phaser now pressed into T'Shani's brainstem.

"Yes..Rash'dar controls this one again, now. Yes. You do as Rash'dar says and he will let you live. Otherwise your head goes Boom!"

Jack could still sense what was going on to an extent, No longer having any control at all. To his horror, he was possessed by an Idiot.

Tish stood still. Normally, she could easily disarm Jack. But with a phaser pushed directly into the back of her head, she knew very well that any sudden move would spell her own death. By the high-pitched whine of the phaser's capacitor, it was likely set on it's highest power output.

"What are you doing?" Ella asked, wondering whether she should go for her phaser or not. She didn't know Slen at all so she didn't know whether he was serious, joking, or had just plain lost it. Ella, took her hand away from the phaser and tried another tactic. "What do you want?"

"Rash'dar have many secret. But know that Rash'dar controls this one, Slen. And now Rash'dar must join his fellows on your Vessel, this...Galaxy. Yes. Appropriate name Rash'dar think."

Cain stepped up. "Man! I knew something was screwy.What the hell is going on with you man? What are you, possessed or something?" It hit Cain at that very moment. He only hoped the others would realize it too.

Realiztion was beyond Nieca, the wretching pain that twisted and slammed against her brain prevented her from moving back towards the group. Grabbing and tugging down on her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut and slammed against the wall of the upper corridor. A soft whimper escaped her lips as she fell to her knees and the final moments of her free will crumpled and dissolved as the voices below drifted upwards.

Tish sighed, slightly. She had had a feeling about this mission, even from the start. And especially with Jack's previous outbursts...she should have just taken him back to the shuttle at the outset. It was too late now, though. "Rash'dar," she growled in Jack's direction. Whatever had hold of Jack's body was obviously not quite sane. "What is it you want?"

It was crazy; none of it made any sense. But on the other hand, in a weird sort of way, this may be the part that made the most sense of all. It explained the strange edginess that had hovered around the team. Somehow, they had felt the invisible presence of 'Rash'dar', whoever that was inhabiting Jack. And as Ember watched him, she felt the cold tendrils of fear. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't alone. It/Jack had said his companions were on Galaxy which means there were others on the ship. She could only imagine what it was like. Would the crew be able to hold up any kind of resistance to an enemy they couldn't see?

Quashing the thought, she turned her focus to Jack and his hostage, inching cautiously, minuscule step by miniscule step towards them. She didn't want to alarm Rash'dar, but she also wasn't going to stand by and do nothing.

Tish looked over in the direction of Lansky, who--along with Grey and Forrester--were now standing around her and Slen, weapon's all drawn. She, herself, was in a bad position, her face to the bulkhead, head turned against the cool duranium. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the others advancing.

"No! Stay back!" Tish yelled to them as he tightened his grip and dug the phaser emitter deeper into her neck when they drew closer.

Ember paused, but only for a moment. Was that insubstantial bravado, or did Tish really have a plan to overpower Jack? If she did, they wouldn't be able to help her by going up against Slen in force. But they could try to distract the 'thing' enough so that Tish could get free she might have a chance. It might work. She didn't waste anymore time deciding, taking a big stride forwards, deliberately provoking his attention.

"Why don't you let her go? Take me instead," She suggested, not letting up. "Or better yet, just go. You wanna join your friends on the ship. Go ahead, we won't stop you." She was spouting rubbish, it didn't matter if he believed her or not, so long as she kept his focus on her.

Tish slowly moved her arm down, trying not to attract Slen/Rash'dar's attention. If she could get her arm under his--maybe dislocate the shoulder--she could quickly duck away from the business-end of the phaser. Just as she was about to make her move, however, something else hit her. At least, it felt like a hit, mentally. T'Shani let out a loud yelp as her head exploded with pain, coursing through her synapses and into the very nerve-ends of her body. It came again...and again; something was attacking her! Something *outside* of her confrontation with Slen, something unseen. Barely openening her eyes through the pain, she could see that the others were being attacked, as well.

The pain came without warning, like a million hammers that came battering relentlessly on her head. Ember fell to her knees, her hands clutching her head in agony. It hurt like hell, like something trying to crack her open so they could get inside, trying to drown her and suffocate her so her voice would be lost among the rest. It was bad, godawful, shit-fly-through-the-window bad. But they wouldn't win. Pain, physical pain, she could deal. She wasn't prepared to surrender. Over her dead body. "You know what? I happen to like pain. It's right up my alley." She said through ragged but determined breaths. "So keep it coming."

Ella looked around nervously as the others started to react to...whatever was happening. She felt a sudden sharp pain, like a cluster headache, hit, causing her to drop her phaser, but then it was gone as quick as it came.

Rash'dar grinning and observed the others, acting as if he were being communicated to. "Yes...yes... These WILL be useful. Rash'dar had the knowledge of the one Slen. Lieutenant Junior Grade Cain Forrester. You are of Science. You may be studier of old things, but you can still prove useful, but the others say you cannot be penetrated..yes. But Rash'dar will make you submit..yes"

"You're full of shit! You've obviously never met Cardassian interrogators! I dare you to break me!"

"Oh..Yes, this one knows what they can do. Veteran of wars he is. I can." He turned to Ella. "And an Engin...something. Knows how to repair and make the ship work. You will come too, maybe Rash'dar will be more lenient with you. Your ship we will need to escape this wretched place. Freedom to leave and explore, yes! Freedom for Rash'dar to Conquer! The others will see what Rash'dar is. They laugh at him, call him mad, and a fool! Yes, Rash'dar will show them."

Ella quickly picked up her phaser. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

T'Shanin could *hear* them. Pounding at her mind... ~Yes, this one will suit us well...~ ~We must take her...~ ~Her mind is strong!~ She fought whatever/whoever was trying to overcome her Andorian mind, fighting to the edge of darkness...

As the others struggled with the intruders Rey'ol had managed to loose the battle. Mishia was a cleaver interrogater, she had managed to discover the childern this Caitian harbored and loved and through the induced images of these childern, skinned and butchered, she had had tackled the strong will of the felinoid.

Mishia stood, the lean strong thighs of her new body quivered slightly from the strain they had just endured but Mishia still managed to purr. The power and stealth this body held would serve her purposes perfectly. Glancing down from the balcony above she locked eyes with Rash'dar for only a moment before disolving into the shadows.

------------ Meanwhile... ------------

She could handle being a hostage, Ella thought. It wasn't like she hadn't been one before. She could probably even somehow makeit through being tortured again, although she wasn't really jumping at the prospect. But she couldn't stand the way Slen keep grinning at her.

"Stop that." Ella said irratably. "It's just creepy."

Cain walked a little closer to Ella, Attempting a whisper. "I get the feeling that this isn't isolated, we can do alot better if we get back to the ship. And if it isn't, we can figure something out and at least try to get T'shani back.

Ella looked over at Lansky, who was being led by Slen with a phaser. It was possible that when they got over to the ship they could overpower this idiot possessing Slen. Then again there might be more of him over the ship. The other two nodded slightly and Ella supressed a sigh. "Allright."

"Trivial Pursuit"

Lt. Ella Grey
w/ mention of the away team

The transporter had barely finished materializing the away team when Ella jumped off the platform and ran for the door, relying on Forrester and Lansky to take care of Slen and anyone else in the room.

Ella heard the whine of a phaser, heard it hit just a few centimeters away from her head as she passed through the door, but kept running, hoping that the others could deal with whatever she had left them with. Slen said that they, whoever they were, wanted the ship and Ella was the best qualified of their little rebellion to make sure that didn't happen.

She found her way to a Jeffries tube and moved with lightspeed on hands and knees toward a junction. Once there she sealed the tube behind her, pulled out her phaser, and hit her comm badge for Victor before she even thought about bothering with little things like breathing or whether the comm was up and running.

As it was, her lungs and heart seemed to be in a competition against each other to see which could work fastest. Victor did not answer.

"Great." Her mechanical voice attempted to whisper. Once again she was struck by how much she hated what she had done to herself but decided that this wasn't really the time to work out personal issues.

She needed a plan. Ella decided to avoid Deck 36, there were several ways to stop the ship without being in main Engineering after all: impulse engine support, power distribution, hell, the environmental controls could damage a ship enough to make it non-operational.

Poor baby, Ella thought as she took a deep breath and prepared to move forward. It was going to take a lot of time putting her back together after the mess Ella was going to make.

***

Approximately two hours later, several damaged systems, many cuts and bruises, and a rather painful and inconvienant phaser wound to the stomach, Ella ignored everything her mother had ever taught her and dropped down to the floor in the most undignified and ungraceful way imaginable.

She laughed shortly at the image of her mother with a pinched 'what are you doing' expression on her face and then bit back a scream.

Lesson one, my dear, she told herself. Giggles and stomach wounds don't mix.

"Damn Trill." Ella winced which she found was more favorable than writhing in pain. How the hell was she supposed to know that the Trill species had some sort of telepathy, which seemed to be the main indicator of whether someone was possessed or not? ]Vulcans and Betazoids were pretty obvious, she thought, but the Trill? That was worthy of a bonus round question of Trivial Pursuit 2382.

"I can too hop spaces, Dad." Ella grimaced even as she chuckled, remembering the last time she had played the game, probably around the age of nine or ten. "And who wants an ugly brown piece of the pie when they can have *two* blues."

She bit her lip, telling herself firmly that she was *not* going to pass out, and pulled herself up into a more seated position. The ship was still moving, unfortuneatly, but it was moving slowly, so she hoped that taking a phaser to the stomach had been for something. Last time she was going to trust a Trill, that was for sure.

"Help me. I think they're after me." Ella mimicked, pulling a face. "Jerk."

She needed to get to Sickbay or somewhere with an emergency kit. It was too bad that crawling here had taken about all that Ella had left and she was pretty sure that the sound coming from behind her wasn't the Jeffries Tube Fairy with her endless supply of happy stomach medicine.

Jeffried Tube Fairy, she thought with a small forced smile. She really killed herself sometimes.

Ella checked her phaser. It was low on power but probably still had enough in it to do the trick.

She waited until the sound morphed itself into audible footsteps and then made herself raise her arm and level the weapon at the intruder. Then she got a look at the intruder.

"Shit." Ella said looking into the face of smirking Lt. Angeleina. "And I thought my day couldn't get any worse."

"Convergence"

By Kylar Curran, Chief Liaison Officer

Ensign Kiel Counselor

Commander James Lionel Corgan, Chief Security Officer

Appearances by:

Admiral Olivia Proctor, DS5 CO-Incumbent

***

Deck 42
Liaison Offices

The mailbox was full.

A ship whose computer subsystems measured in storage compartments large enough to store monstrous amounts of data across several worlds should not be reflecting back a 'mailbox is full' message. It was simply not possible.

The Kelvan Liaison Officer, for lack of a better word, scrunched his lips as he grit his teeth. Admiral Proctor was running ship's personnel ragged with her obscenely outrageous demands. Resources dedicated to the away personnel on the station in the vein of emergency communications and transport, were deemed secondary priorities to whatever she wanted on the moment. Being that she was locked up in her own quarters since her embarrassing defeat at his obviously superior intellect was not of import; it was her follow-up demands on everything tactical that was.

She hoarded energy reserves for whatever games she was playing on her personal holodeck where everyone else was toiling on emergency rations and cycled environmental controls. Even he was working in lower resource allocation than usual, not that he didn't care. Lights being off, it was assumed no one was home. Which in Proctor's case, was a power outage that had lasted all of 16 years - since being promoted to Admiral.

Sifting through the complaint reports of what he had assumed to be her own childish behavior, he found that she had only in fact be the culprit in a small portion of incidents. The great majority of reports were of assaults, batteries, verbal abuse, domestic abuse, theft... altercation after altercation. The Security center was full, and a portion of a hangar bay had been converted.

How had this happened without his knowledge? It simply could not be coincidence that all this had begun within the last few hours.

Keying in his personal communication node to security, he found the wait for a response longer than expected. It took several seconds for an acknowledgement.

As soon as the link was established, a rush of yelling, screaming, snarling, and threats met his ears. It sickened him that the human species could reduce themselves to such dissident behavior on a starship. Discipline was lacking and needed to be addressed.

"Who am I speaking with?" More cursing in the background from a voice that was distant, then rolled on him like through a tunnel.

[Who am I speaking with?] Sarcasm. Curran's jaw set in reposed anger.

"Vice-Legate Curran. Why was I not informed of the civilian personnel imprisoned at the moment of their arrest? They're due legal representation before incarceration. Now, answer my original question. Who am I speaking with?"

[Answer my question. Who am I speaking with? Who am I speaking with?]

Kylar wasn't in the mood for games. Proctor was enough of a nuisance. While the person on the link laughed, the Kelvan called up a duty roster, overlaid it on current personnel in security, mapped the commbadges of those in the center, and determined the person was... unlisted. Again, he clenched his jaw. He terminated the connection without notice.

Keying in his personal line to Captain M'Kantu, he was met with a busy signal. The Captain was obviously busy at any given time on the ship, but his personal line should never have such a response. It would at least allow him to leave a message. The only valid reason for not being given that opportunity was that the dedicated line was in use by another individual, which was simply not possible.

Increased aggression amongst the crew, immature behavior, communication blackouts, Proctor... and M'Kantu's lack of order or response to it all. Where was he?

The Kelvan slammed down his terminal console, cast an involuntary glance to the station listing to port outside, and left, discarding the thought of coincidence on arrival away.

****

Deck 4
VIP Quarters

"Why the change of heart, Commander? Finally see the light?" Olivia Proctor, Admiral and soon to be CO of Deep Space Five once it became operational again, swirled her flute of cherished Altairian wine as she leaned back in her inlaid chair. She was grinning ear to ear, smacking of a Cheshire cat after relishing a satisfying meal.

Commander Sheridan was standing opposite the diminutive woman with a big ego, but equally unemotional. The Ullian only stared straight at - or through - her.

Her reference to 'the light' angered him, as his life was of darkness. Darkness was power. Terror lived in the dark, and its name was Azuul. Azuul thrived on fear, and he would use that to his advantage with this 'Admiral'. She would be a tactical ally, and also yearned for power.

"No, Admiral. I am only of agreement after some thought that Commander Henderson was the correct person for the job. It has nothing to do with anything but correct strategy and electing the right person for the job." It also didn't hurt that the body of Cassius Henderson was unexpectedly ripe for habitation after his arrival and ensuing possession.

"Tactical genius, wouldn't you say?" She waved off her hand, satisfied in her prowess that she had out-thought her future XO, whose strength also lay in light of her own.

Sheridan nodded slightly in acquiescence. This female would be tantalizingly easy to sway.

"You may leave now, Commander. Your groveling was most enjoyable, but there are other matters to attend to." Like playing Strategema with an uncheating opponent on the holodeck. Sheridan had programmed the computer with a random error response pattern on a low-level difficulty so that Proctor would regain her confidence again. The Liaison Officer had almost irreparably destroyed their chances at taking the ship. Yet, even now, diplomat was being stalked by of the Kind for enthrallment. Soon, there would be no opposition, and he would feast on this one himself. He savored the smell of copper she gave off; the scent of blood was faint in the air, and tempting.

*****

...somewhere between Decks 9 and 10...

The young El Aurian really should have paid more attention in his shipboard engineering classes. A fact in evidence of the joy that was hindsight, because he was entirely lost now. The Galaxy's pubescent counselor had ducked into a Jeffries Tube connecting to deck ten when he'd encountered a truly psychotic flyboy. What was it with people lately. Tempers were flaring. Phasers were firing. And it seemed like no one was having much of a good day.

What was worse was the fact that shit like this had the potential to increase his workload. The ship had enough loonies, misfits, and ne'er-do-wells as it was. The last thing he needed was for them to be fed yet more issues to come crawling to his office with. Except the hot Vulcans. He could listen to the hot Vulcan's all day. Sadly, there really weren't enough of those to go around. Certainly not enough that sought out counseling.

All of which was moot if he couldn't figure how to get the hell out of... where ever he was. Crawling around in half a uniform since he'd ditched the tunic when the freak had made a grab for him. No commbadge either, so he couldn't contact anyone. Genius. Sheer genius, really. He'd escaped to somewhere where his movements were severely limited, he had no communication, and otherwise was just strolling on all fours with out a bloody clue as to where he was going.

Maybe he could just curl up and take a nap or something and wake up when the ship had either blown itself up or people had started to just get along with each other.

Pfft... as if. In either case, his job security would totally be blown out the airlock, so fuck that. He at least needed people to -think- they needed counselors. Otherwise someone was likely to realize that Kiel seriously lacked anything resembling a real job and might actually expect him to do something meaningful. And the slacker in Kiel simply refused to let that happen. Service in Starfleet was the best scam of a free ride that the wanderlusted boy had stumbled across to day. Especially as an ensign. He wasn't even expected to know anything! An angle he could certainly play up when he wanted to.

It seemed he was playing that part now. The little lost ensign all turned around in the Jeffries Tubes. Laughing to himself, the boy continued his lonely trek through the innards of the Galaxy, when the lights went out. Blinking in darkness that stretched infinitely in perfect, pitch black quality, the boy not only had no inkling of a sense of direction... but he couldn't see a thing. So the crawl became a creep instead, as he was now reduced to feeling around the contours of the maintenance tunnel in order to continue forward. At least the psycho flyboy hadn't followed him into the Jeffries Tube. So the only opponent he was up against was the darkness itself.

"OW! Dammit!"

The dull twang of a head banging against something metal echoed through the tunnel as the boy paused to rub his head and continue on his slow crawl into the abyss.

* * * * *

"Talk to the admiral." T'lan reasoned to her subservient thrall, the now puppetted James Lionel Corgan, "Reason with her. Ask her to help bring the ship's systems online."

Corgan blindly responded, with the strain of his mind being tugged in two directions, "Yes ma'am."

Corgan and T'lan, as well as a team of a half dozen enthralled security officers and one civilian Andorian girl in Starfleet uniform disguise, waited a safe distance outside Admiral Proctor's room. Armed with phaser rifles, pistols and deadeyed stares, the security force looked more like a menacing posse of lawmen from Earth's wild past. They were cautious, watching their backs and fronts for more enemy threats during their trek, and as they stopped the officers made a security perimiter, kneeling and watching the halls through their phaser's sights. Part of it was Corgan's strict, paramilitary like training. The rest was from subtle bodylanguage cues T'lan implanted into their minds via the mind meld.

T'lan looked the part of the leader, though she hid behind her former master. Her presence magnified ever since her restraint was smashed by the Dithparu parasite. She dared to smile, laugh, and feel angry in front of her Kind and the enthralled she captured, something the last owner of her body would have found illogical. Without restraint, she freely used her wiles, revelled in the freedom of corporeal senses. She was alive and free, and enjoyed it.

But not all was well. Enthralling more people was becoming a serious concern. Even with more Vulcans receiving Dithparu spirits, not everyone could do the Vulcan mind meld. Even then, she found that her technique was stumbled upon, extrapolating her Vulcan abilities with her own personal ingenuity. Her technique had flaws, and she had to admit they were growing worse.

Case in point was the Commander, who on occassion was slow to obey orders or sometimes unwilling to allow her access to his mind. When he did obey, it was under incredible strain. Though his case was more unique among the thrall and more prominent, she was starting to see that her control over her minions was not perfect.

Worse yet, she had to depend on the Commander for most of her information on the ship's security systems and for her intelligence on other crewmembers.

"Corgan, what can you tell me about Admiral Proctor?" The Dithparu known as T'lan asked.

Corgan didn't respond, standing like a statue.

"I see." T'lan smirked, "Is it that you do not know much, or is it that you don't want to tell me?"

James didn't respond to her second question either, but stood in stoic resolution.

T'lan decided to use a soft threat. "I can learn what I need to know, Commander. Mika, watch!" She barked to the Andorian. Mika's head turned to James and T'lan to watch a most obscene act. T'lan nestled up to James body, hooking his leg with her thigh, coiling her arms around him in a poisonous embrace. She leaned on his whipcord tight body, admired the mundane specimen for a body that was lean and hungry, yet strong and protective as a marble pillar. She savoured his warmth, delighted in his disconcerted squirms, the glimmering fear building up in his eyes, the silent panic of his mate as she was forced to watch. T'lan loved the power she had over this strong paladin of a man, to know she could violate his body and his code at her whim, and best yet, give in to sins her host mind never dared try.

Her mind touched his, the most euphoric sensation of them all! She swam and delighted in the chaos, and slowly reconstructed memories from that swirling sea. "Admiral Proctor." They mimicried, "She is an energetic, decisive Admiral, but she is not very smart. She is a reactionary, and tends to be too decisive when planning is needed. Give her a crisis, and she will try to solve it on her own without thinking. She is vulnerable to influence and manipulation. She sees herself as a great general and thinker. She likes boardgames. She fools herself into believing she can outthink herself out of a wet paper sack! That's all i've heard. GET OUT! OUT! STOP!"

T'lan broke off the meld and let go of his body. Corgan shivered, falling to his knees. Mika ran to catch him. Snarling in anger, T'lan backhanded the Andorian, her superior Vulcan strength throwing the petite blueskin backside first on the floor.

"Get up. We must meet the Admiral." T'lan ordered.

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