"One Way Ticket"
Lt. Cmdr Brianna O'Shea
Amb. Turan Trelar
Turan arrived at main engineering. he almost stumbled through the opening door rather breathless.
"Turan Trelar reporting ready, Ma'am" he reported coughing. "I received a damage control alert"
Turan paused and tried to calm down. His throat was sore from running the whole way from 10-4 through corridors and stairway down to main engineering.
"I tried to ask where to go but nobody answered."
Anna looked up and motioned to some security to lower their weapons. "He's fine.. he's with me." Anna said moving over to check Turan. "I'm glad your here... are you alright?" She asked making sure he was fit to work.
"I'm fine, Ma'am" answered Turan "just a little bit exhausted - that's all. Give me five minutes and I'll be okay"
"Good, your with me." Anna said, picking up a tool kit. "We need to go try and get the transporters back offline. We can not let them bream anyone on or off."
"Get the transporters back offline?" asked the Quentite boy. "And who is 'them'?"
Turning to him. "They who aren't you and me. Something has taken parasitical control over the telepaths on the ship. We can't let them beam anyone onboard or off the ship. So we've got to take down the main transporters." She said then turned. "We can do that from auxiliary control room."
"Auxiliary control room? We can't get there through the corridors. I met so many crewmen who behaved strangely. Can't say how much of them were telepaths. We can't afford to let them read dig around in our brains and guess our plan." warned Turan.
Anna paused and thought for a minute.
"May I offer an other plan?" asked Turan.
"Sure, what is it?" Anna asked, turning slightly to look toward him. "What's your idea?" The Chief Engineer asked as she brought her hand up and swiped back a loose strand of red hair from her face.
"Assumed we manage to get the transporters offline. Don't you think they will try to get them back online as quick as possible? But what will happen if we just apply a small modification to the transporters navigational subroutines?" speculated the giant engineering trainee
"Modification?" She asked, before continuing. "What kind of modification are you thinking of?" Anna asked before she gave her thoughts on it.
"Maybe I think too easy but my idea was to add a small sequence to that subroutine which overrides any given coordinate by a constant one - let's say to the brig cells or to one of the large storage rooms." explained Turan. A boyish grin rushed over his face.
A grin formed on her lips as well. "I like that idea. I like it alot. Regardless of where they want to go, it beams them to where we want them. I like it, I like it very much." She said then thought. "For that kind of modification we'll need to get to the transporter relay system via the jefferies tubes. Hope you feel like doing some climbing and crawling." Anna said as she moved over and entered the jefferires tubes.
Turan laughed. "Some climbing and crawling, Ma'am? I would pay for that." Nimble like an oversized mole he climbed into the tube pushing the toolkit box forward.
"When we get through this your going to get a big hug from me, Turan." Anna said as she was crawling ahead of him. "How is the apprentice-ship working out with Dhani as your teacher?" The Irish woman asked as she continued to crawl.
"I learned so much from her. She was the first one who didn't take me for a giant alien child. She didn't just ordered 'do this ... do that'. There was a lot of explanations - although I was a lot I didn't understand. All that ended when she fell into coma. It seemed as if I fell back under the prime directive - keep the stone age alien away from any kind of technology. I'm so glad she is back, Ma'am ... I'm back on duty."
"That's good. Who knows, one day you might be a engineer." She said pausing at the hatch to catch her breath. Once she opened the hatch and crawled out into the junction she flipped open her tricorder to see if there was anyone around and their wasn't. "We need to get that access panel off." She said, gesturing toward a panel on the junction wall.
Turan opened the toolkit and searched for a sonic screwdriver. He finally produced a manual model instead and removed the four screws holding the panel in place.
Once the panel was off, Anna began to pull some of the isoliener chips out and hand them to Turan. "Hold these.. but keep them separate." She said. She then reached for her tricorder and began to connect it to the node.
Turan searched the tool kit for something to wrap the isolinear chips in. This indeed was an engineers' tool kit. there were mechanic tools, electronic gadgets, a hand full of spare parts and cables and ... a package of first aid bandage. Taking all his boy scout nursing knowledge he unpacked the bandage and rolled the chips into it - separated by at least two layers of bandage.
"All we have to do is reconfigure the transporter grid to send it to where we want." Anna said then.
Turan watched the red haired engineer closely while she keyed several lines of code into the tricorder's memory. Finally she closed the tricorder's display lid.
Turan grabbed the access panel. "Done? May I close that hole?"
Anna nodded.
Turan screwed the panel back to the junction wall. There was now no sign, the installation behind that panel had been redeployed.
"Let's get out of here before we get caught red handed." recommend Turan slowly crawling backward.
"Playtime"
Ensign Vortas, Counterintellegence Specialist (PCC)
His two Dithparu
with several nameless victims
===========
**Deck 19**
How they had ended up all the way up here, the various minds in Vortas didn't know for sure. However, they were here and now it was time to play. The juvenile mind in Vortas had decided that he wanted to go see some trees, and as it happened there were some on this ship, as well as some people trying to hide in this room they called the arboretum. They had run into a couple people on the way up here, a human female and something the host didn't recognized. They had killed them both, or at least bloodied them up pretty good.
~There are five humanoids in that room you wanted to go to. Seem to think they can hide in there amongst the plantlife. Fools. They will be killed.~
~Wait, I haven't gotten to use this brain frying thingy this host can do. I wanna do it on them, I wanna play!~
*Stupid kid* The real Vortas, stillsilenced in his own head *He's going to get us all killed*
~Very well, proceed. But hurry up, we need to meet up with the others so we can solidfy our hold on this ship~
~Yay! Lets go!~
The trio in one body made its way into the room. It didn't take long for the 'kid' to start 'frolicking' amongst the trees. It also didn't take long to find the group that was hiding in here, a human family of four, a man of medium build who appeared to be a science officer, his wife presumably her long blonde hair giving her away amongst the bushes. A boy, about 11, was hiding behind one of the trees, not far from his younger sister, about 6. As the Lethean walked into the room, he was met by a low powered phaser blast coming from the man, but the officers shaking hands and the letheans reflexes allowed Vortas and the things controlling him to dodge the shot.
~He tried to hurt us! How are we going to get him now!~
~Idiot, the host has one of those too!~
~Oh, cool!~ The kid finally realised the phaser in Vortas' other hand. As another beam missed wide, it fired, hitting the man, stunning him. Each of the others got the same treatment, though the boy was a bit of a challenge, managing to get behind a rock as the firing started. After about a minute though, Vortas had stunned them all. A few moments later, all four had been bound with vines and such and the children had been gagged with bits of cloth torn from the man's uniform. Once they had been secured, Vortas poked the man, who had his wrists tied to a tree branch.
"Wakie wakie time Mr. Man! Time to die!", the kid said through Vortas. It didn't take long for the man to stir from the stun
"What...where..what's going on here!"
"Whats it look like Mr. Man, your tied to a tree and I'm about to kill you and your associates here by frying your brains!"
"But...wait...you have one of those things in you!"
"Two to be precise." the serious one emerged for a moment, about the time the woman came out of the stun
"Do what you want to me, but please...let the kids go...they aren't a threat to you...don't hurt them." The man said as the woman screamed. That earned her a boot in the ribs from the lethean
"You shut up, your turn is soon."
"Admiible sentiment Mr. Man, but everyone here is a threat. Now you die!"
The Letheans hands moved to opposite sides of the man's head as he prepared to use the telepathic attack. As the energy arced from his fingers through the man's head, Vortas fealt the mans last thoughts, his fears, his pain, all of it would be used to destroy his mind, slowsly, painfully. As he slumped back into unconciousness, the Lethean can be heard laughing maniacally.
"Now THAT was fun. Such an interesting mind, pity it had to die. Now, who would like to go next!"
"When two worlds collide." pt 1 
Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy
2nd Lt Jebidah Baile
Recon Mission Specialist, SFMC
USS GALAXY
---------------
Something was wrong. James instincts were screaming for a halt.
The enthralled body of the once Commander James Lionel Corgan moved under its own will, but his thoughts and actions were that of his mistress, former Vulcan security deputy Lieutenant jg. T'lan, now a decadent Dithparu spirit with psychic potential still unknown, inside a Vulcan body forged by her desert homeworld and Starfleet training.
Though James was the face of Dithparu T'lan's party, the roles of leader and subordinate were reversed. T'lan owned and controlled those without psychic potential like puppets, and her first was James Corgan. And even though James didn't have an iota of psychic potential and no free will left, his lack of psychic powers wasn't to be confused with any lack
of intuition and instinct. His experiences as a soldier had yet to dull. His danger sense was screaming for attention. He had to let his mistress know.
"T'lan." Corgan said, "We should have heard from Gamma patrol by now."
T'lan looked bemused, "Who was it?"
"Not sure... a Bajoran... and a Vulcan. Something is wrong. They should be back."
T'lan thought, then ordered, "Find the patrol. Maintain communicator silence. Go to their last known location."
"Yessir." Corgan saluted, and left.
*****
Whenever given the opportunity Baile disabled the lights in corridors and rooms. Perhaps disable was the wrong word. Breaking, smashing, shortcircuiting and obliverating was more accurate. Should they ever be able to get the Dithparu off the ship then there would be a lot of broken lightbulbs to fix.
He stalked the corridors silently. Even among the enemy there was no mistaking. Something was hunting them just as they hunted the brainsurfers.
It walked on two legs, talked and looked like a human, yet it was.. different.. than the others.
Maya leaned against the wall further up the corridor. "What's wrong, Killer?" Her voice was like the summerwind, like a razor cutting deep. Soothing and still it tortured him with the mere sound of it.
"Nothing.." he replied, tilted his head to the side and listened. There were more of them out there, his prey.
She pushed herself away from the wall as he came up next to her. "You always were a terrible liar when it came to yourself." Her smile was soft and caring which made the pain even worse.
"Guess I didn't have your experience on the matter..." he retorted dryly. He regretted the comment the moment it left his mouth, but the smile remained, just as soft and caring.
*****
If James gut instinct was a reliable, if insubstantial guage of future endangerments, he had no doubt when he entered the last co-ordinates of Gamma patrol.
He found the two missing and dominated patrolmates at the right place; savagely dispatched by a man who knew swift brutality well. Their blood laced the carpets, the coppery taint lightly perfuming in the air.
The smell activated something equally savage inside the mind of the survivor of the Battle of Sector 001. His senses sharpened. His neck hairs bristled, and his muscles knotted painfully as his hands flexed into rock hard fists. He removed his glasses, tucking the fashionable pair into his tunic. James Corgan was different in a sort, his pride, honour and human quirks shed quickly like a snake's skin.
This was James when he meant business. His heart turned to stone, his eyes cast in an icy glare.
It was time to survive, or neutralize the threat.
"Come out." James called out into the inky darkness, "Come out. We have much to discuss."
*****
He put a finger over Maya's lips, silencing her. Vibrations of various lengths and order reached his ears through the darkness. Someone was calling him out.
Interesting.
Baile stopped and gazed into the darkness he had left behind him. His new eyes cut through it, revealing every little intimate detail hiding in the natural state of space.
Maya watched him leave with a thin smile on her lips. Her Killer was waking up.
His feet were the padded paws of the tiger prowling the jungle, his eyes the windows to the real world. He sniffed the air. There was a scent that had not been there before. A warrior.
Finally.
~"What are you doing?! STOP!"~ The thought rippled through Corgan's mind, jarring him to a painful halt. Pressure inside his head was building up. His heartless, cruel veneer momentarily lifted as pain awashed him. His phaser clattered uselessly out of his hand, his fingers too fidgety to hold onto his precious weapon.
A phrase echoed itself to him, ~"You'll be killing one of your own."~
Corgan snarled, "RUN, GODDAMMIT! I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS!!!!!" To that, James buckled over in pain. The conditioning from the Vulcan Mind Meld that ripped open his psyche and brutally pounded commands into his thoughts and violated his core being demanded no disobedience. Protect the mistress. Further her goals. Destroy anybody in the way.
And most of all... obey.
Without the proper psychic defenses, and with too much overwhelming pain, James Corgan doubled over, and rose up again. The chilling gray glint in his eyes returned. He was back to the soldier of before.
"You'll die if you stay." He whispered to the unknown dark.
*****
The beast closed in, silent and somewhat curious. This was his jungle. He stopped and crouched low, his own hand seeking the sidearm which rested comfortably in the tactical holster strapped to his leg. While phasers could be negated by the ships internal securitysystems Baile's own gun had no such problem. A good old fashioned pistol loaded with armorpiercing bullets. Less ammunition than a phaser, but far more handy and with the right equipment quite silent as well.
The stranger's heartbeat echoed in the marine's head, a crisp and near perfect sound. He could feel his own pulse increasing, his body getting ready for the battle to come. Adrenaline started flowing, giving him the familiar buzz that had walked side by side with him over the years.
A phaser fell to the floor, almost in slow motion. Baile's hand left the gun alone. This was one opponent he wanted to fight all out. No rules. One ring.
It was interesting the way his opponent sensed he was there, like dogs could sense danger in the night. Baile stood up and started walking again. The screaming almost made Baile chuckle, a sound that had it escaped him would have had a true unnerving quality to it.
The heartbeat sounded different. More forced for a few seconds then suddenly getting steady. The human smiled. That was the sound of a warrior ready for battle.
"Don't worry Sunshine.... it won't be me doing the dying... " he replied calmly, his voice promising nothing but death for the loser.
Corgan's footsteps silenced into a steady, padded crawl, his breath a silent, ragged whisper. Creeping in the darkness, James eyes adjusted to the low light. He could see the silouette of the hall, dark bulkheads jutting out in vertical angles. His hearing heightened as his focus came into being, and his imagination swore it heard the word 'Sunshine'.
James fist throbbed, his legs tensed, as he crouched in an Anbu Jytsu stance. ~"He is here. Draw him out."~
"I am Commander James Corgan, under the dominion of Mistress T'lan." Corgan said softly to his unknown, and unseen assailant, "What has happened to Gamma Patrol? Answer me."
There it was again. That change in pulse, but it went away just as fast as it had arrived. For a moment Baile considered if it would be worth the effort. Why not just draw the gun and shoot the man in the head? The marine doubted the good Commander would even see it coming.
It was worth the effort. So far all he had killed was a number of weekend warriors with a lot of will but no skill. This one had skill.
The man was trained to fight in the dark. That much was obvious, but he would still be at a terrible disadvantage against a man capable of seeing even where there was no light at all. Seeing Corgan drop down into the stance made him frown slightly. Anbo-jutsu was perhaps not his favorite of oppositions, but it was doable, but the man revealed too much already.
"Why don't you come and find out.." he replied with a dark undertone to the words.
"Ok." Replied the security chief, locking onto Baile's location.
In an abrupt pivot, James dashed to the direction of Baile's voice. Huddling low, arms outstretched like delta wings, he charged at the Marine, guided by sound and faint light alone. His voice snarled; his cocky nemesis was in the path of his wraith.
Baile had his warface on. A cold emotionless face filled with nothing but hate and pain to come. The charge was a bit unexpected but a welcome change from the tiresome threats the others had barraged him with. He could see the man couldn't see in the dark, which made him decide for an approach. Nothing fancy, just a test to gauge the level of opposition. He made a movement to the left, taking advantage of the way the human eye caught up on movement.
In a smooth motion he went right instead, and spun around with a backhand. If it hit then he had overestimated the man. If it didn't - well then things
just got a whole lot more interesting.
~"TRAP!"~
But then in an about face, Jame sidestepped, rolling on his shoulder and avoiding the target altogether.
"When two worlds collide." pt2 
Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy
2nd Lt Jebidah Baile
Recon Mission Specialist, SFMC
USS GALAXY
---------------
James dusted off his shoulder, "You are cocky, but you know what you're doing."
Baile's eyes gleamed in the dark as faint light hit them. The man was skilled. His technique wasn't perfect, but neither was Baile's. But the instincts. There was nothing wrong with the Commander's battle instincts. This would be very interesting indeed.
A satisfied look briefly crossed the mask of death he wore. "You have no idea, Dorothy..." his voice rumbled low.
Corgan nodded, chuckling, "Thanks for revealing yourself. Who are you?"
"If I wanted you dead straight away you would have been." Baile replied. There was no gloating or bragging. It was a simple fact. He could have shot
Corgan in the head long before the Commander knew where he was or that he even was there. Maybe it would prove to be a bad decision. Maybe it wouldn't. Didn't matter much now.
Corgan wasn't the least bit phased. "Many other foes on many other worlds have said your exact same words. Some have come close, others pathetically not close enough. In the immortal words of Elton John, I'm still standing. Friend or foe? Are you under the influence of Dithparu?"
A comedian. That was almost enough to make Baile draw the gun and make a lot of holes in the commander. But he didn't. At least for the time being, Instead he remained silent, slowly circling around the
Commander, waiting, watching.
"Fine." James hissed, "Be that way!"
Launching into a cavalcade of fist attacks, James charged at his opponent. He hit solid, unsatisfying air, no matter how elaborate the attack. Feining and striking, he found no ground to take. His opponent was good! James felt the first twinge of fear crawl into his gullet, but used his stubborn doggedness to squash it.
~"He is good."~ James commented, ~"Strong. Fast... not as fast as me, but fast enough. Very keen. He isn't a soldier. He's a maddog killer. In other words... easy. His bloodthirstiness will make him dangerous but prone to mistake. I know... therefore I'll draw out his attacks and try to counter."
His senses sharpened gradually as the fight progressed. There it was again. That change in the heartbeat. He had no idea what it meant, but there was a change in the pace when it happened, too short to take advantage of, but it was there. The change in Corgan's tactics would have been missed by a less experienced hand to hand fighter. But just as Baile as unaware of the thoughts in Corgan's mind, just as unaware was Corgan when it came to Baile's past and all the prizefights he had fought. That was the beauty of it all to Baile. The thing that appealed to him. The unknown. The X-factor.
The man was faster, yes, and Baile stronger. But Baile had the one deciding advantage. Darkness. He had the choice of when to attack in his hands. He could see when Corgan would be in less balance and attack then. But he waited. It had turned into a dangerous chessgame, each of them trying to mask the moves until the very last moment.
Fast as a mongoose chasing after his king cobra, James foot lashed, hoping to strike at Baile's head. To his frustration, he missed the marine. No blows were landing. Baile ducked and weaved like a boxer, keeping his defense nearly inpenetrable and his focus purely on staying out of the way. Corgan snarled, "Damn you!", and tried an brutal, whistling elbow smash out of a faked punch.
The result was less than satisfactory. Another miss.
"Back off!" Corgan spat at his opponent, "Mistress wants this. I have to do it! I... Ergh..." James retched. Pain took over his stomach, pounded at his head, the roar of an ocean overtook his ears.
A more honourable fighter might have waited, might have given Corgan a chance to get back up. A less aggressive fighter might have taken the opportunity to slip away. Baile neither was or took it. He closed the distance between them, homing in on his target with the precision of a surgeon. Forcefully he grabbed Corgan's hair and pulled his head downwards while sending his own knee upwards. The result was a resounding impact on Corgan's forehead.
Corgan felt the stars explode in his vision, then the flash of red and the rattle of senses being jarred as the knee impacted. Dull, cracking pain followed, and with that James knew Baile. He was a Muay Thai fighter, with some mixed martial arts background. His style was brutal and efficient. It lacked Corgan's grace and humanity. It was only there to end fights, not to restrain or protect.
Corgan fell to the ground, and Baile was instantly upon him. A melee of fists and arms tried to gain an advantage, but found none. The chief of security tried, but couldn't restrain the snarl of limbs, having difficulty with keeping pace himself.
It was then Corgan had a realization.
He lost his killer instinct.
During the war, he was an unparalleled taker of lives. An academy sharpshooter, already blooded from the Battle of Sector 001, where his innocence was taken and black trauma erased any vestige of humanity. Nobody was as efficient with a phaser as
James L. Corgan. Nobody. And when his phaser could not hold out, he fought with fist, rifle butt, hand and claw, foot and knee. His purpose at that time was to slay others. Revenge? Frustration? Anger at the world? All went into account when he took lives on that war.
It took the Galaxy to regain his humanity, slowly and surely. He learned to love others again. He reaffirmed his loyalties to the people he cared about. His responsibilities grounded him. His love for his home and his friends drove him. It didn't take one pivotal moment to readjust to normal life. It was during the course of many years on the Galaxy!
But with that realization, he knew that the killer edge needed to coldly butcher Baile was gone. He hesitated. Worse, he was enthralled, and was struggling against those mental chains as well.
Baile's arms locked around his neck, the marine's biceps choking the life out of him. James was still going to let him. He didn't want to take this life. he didn't want to betray his mates anymore.
But neither did he want to die.
"Damn... you..." James sputtered under a raspy voice, caught in the unfair decision. ~"Should I just die?"~
No more blows landed. Silence settled in the corridor, a fragile truce between chaos and order. Baile locked his arm around Corgan's neck, watching his opponent in silence. The man was a good fighter, strong spirited and bloody stubborn. Much like himself. ~Pray you are not like me...~ Baile thought to himself. He had never seen Corgan before, had no real opinion of the man, but now he had met the warrior, crippled and frustrated. Silently man whose eyes had been stolen by someone he couldn't remember wondered how the fight would have been had Corgan been in full control.
The predator watched Corgan slowly choke out, head filled with thoughts which eventually came to a conclusion. "I could have killed you at any moment, Commander... We both have better things to do than dance around like this.. " Corgan fought well, forcing Baile to adopt a defensive tactic, but frustration had settled in Corgan before it had settled in the marine. That could change if they continued. "This is my jungle, Commander.. tread softly.."
"So what?" Corgan choked, his eyes cast cold as steel, "I've always fought in enemy territory. I don't want to harm you..."
His free hand fumbled for something in his tunic. His whole body shook. He struggled, his hazy vision turing slowly red, his lung threatening to burst, his world a small pit of darkness and an all pervasive pain in every part of him.
He felt his glasses. Snaring them by the fingertips, he dropped his hand and the glasses to the ground, pressing hard on the frames. He tried, but failed, to shake Baile off again.
Corgan rasped, "But I have to keep fighting... I can't stop now! I can fight what T'lan's done, and I can FIGHT YOU!"
With one final jerk, the arm of his glasses snapped. Twisting the broken piece in his hand, he held tightly to it, and blindly punched.
He felt Baile's shoulderblade, and some blood, so he pushed deeper, twisting the broken piece into his opponent's flesh.
"When two worlds collide." pt 3
Commander James Lionel Corgan
Chief of Security, USS Galaxy
2nd Lt Jebidah Baile
Recon Mission Specialist, SFMC
USS GALAXY
---------------
Something buried so deep inside Baile's mind that he hadn't even been aware of its existance stirred, it's sleep disturbed as Baile felt the metal penetrate his skin and lodge itself in his shoulder.
He released Corgan, using all the strength he could to get the Commander away from him. The familiar smell of blood touched his senses. The marine could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue.
The broken piece of metal would normally not be more than a nuissance given where it had hit him, but today was not his day. First waking up on the ship, with no idea how he got there with his eyes poked out, then almost killing a doctor in sickbay, fighting a painloving Dithparu, killing nearly a dozen possessed Hosts and now being stabbed with whatever it was. Of course it couldn't just have hit flesh. It just had to hit a nerve.
The pain shot through Baile's body in a very unpleasent way, like sticking your fingers in a poweroutlet. The pain wasn't overwhelming - far from it - no, it was simply surprising. The marine did the only thing his body wanted to at the moment. He growled. It wasn't a sound through clenched teeth. Nor was it a very human sound. Deep, low and primal.
He reached up and grabbed a hold of the metal and yanked it out. Slowly his hand opened up and the broken piece of metal fell silently to the ground. The noise it made as it hit the carpet sounded like thunder in Baile's ears. "Sunshine... you go to your mistress and tell her that she's dead.." he watched the Commander in the darkness and rolled his injured shoulder. It hurt like hell. Good. Pain sharpened him, made him more alive.
Slowly he unsheathed his knife. The blade scraped against the sheath, a muted gong signalling for the final round. The ultimate round. All Corgan had to do was accept.
James watched the knife glint in the dull darkness, as bright as the whites in Baile's eyes. The killer was getting sloppy, James noticed. No matte black finish on the blade, and his eyes didn't narrow into slits to conceal himself in the darkness. But the look Baile gave him, a boneblasting chill that ran though his body and encased his heart in a tomb of ice, James knew it well. He had that look more than once. Feral. Hungry. Out for blood.
James conceded that he wasn't that kind of man anymore. Defeating him by brawn alone wasn't enough. He had to be the leaf in the river, moving along the water's flow instead of defying it. That was enough to avoid danger. But to stop the fight he had to appeal to Baile's heart.
How did one stop a beast with words, James pondered.
Bile rose in James stomach, a filthy tang dulled with coppery flecks of blood. His stomach churned as his head pounded. T'lan, or what was now T'lan, was keeping her dog in check again. Her subliminal leash screamed to submit or suffer. To disobey her was to feel pain unlike anything he felt before, to reach into every nerve in his brain and set them all on fire.
Damning the Dithparu to hell and beyond, a last sliver of defiance challenged him to speak, as the mind meld's domination reasserted its mastery. There was not much time.
"Listen." James groaned, clutching his stomach, "Last chance..." The pain and intensity grew, "You're going about this all wrong... ohhh... you can't just selfishly fight everyone around you. Others are in danger. Every second you waste hunting... others will die, others who aren't enemies. Your allies, crewmates! Dying! You'll kill them if you don't help them! Get them away from the Dithparu! NOW! YOU SELFISH, COCKY, MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD! GO OR ELSE I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO PUT YOU DOWN LIKE THE PITBULL YOU ARE!!!!!"
Then, the real pain began, like a knife thrust into his brain, penetrating to his heart. He howled like a mad animal, tortured and savaged. His world became nothing but that red pain.
When the hand touched Baile's good shoulder he already knew who it was. Only one person could sneak up on him like that and that person didn't even exist. The dead had a way of getting to you when you least expected it. Like Maya.
"Look at him.." she breathed into his ear, her scent cutting through the haze of fury in his mind. "He's weak.. done for.. " Cool fingers touched his cheek, rasping against his unshaved skin. "He's weak, but he's right, Killer.. the longer you stay here with him the stronger the Dithparu will get."
Baile's eyes glowed like beacons in the darkness, a strange ghostly glow. He said nothing, but Maya's words found their way into his mind, opening him up to what Corgan was saying. Twenty years. Twenty years of loyalty didn't just lay down and die. Temporarily blinded, yes. Screwed over and stepped on? Yes. But dead? No.
Her fingers traced circles around the wound on his shoulders, her eyes trailing the blood that ran down his back. Baile's body was primed and ready to explode into a flurry or death, but her touch slowly disarmed him, made the strong muscles in his body relax somewhat. "Leave him be, lover.. You can't afford to waste more time.."
The conflict inside Baile was monumental. One part of him, a very strong part, wanted nothing more than to accept the challenge Corgan had issued by saying he could put him down. That side of him held the knife. Then there was another part of him, a more pragmatic side. It really was a waste of time. He didn't want to kill Corgan. Not now anyway. If he had then he would have shot Corgan in the head by now. No, he stayed for different reasons. Both were Alpha-males and none of them wanted to give in, but their reasons differed. That side was the one with the gun.
If he left then he would lose. Then Corgan would win. The pragmatic side of Baile kicked him in the head. War brought no winners. Just bad memories. Given the shape Corgan was in Baile doubted the Commander would survive round two. The marine took Corgan's words in stride, waiting for him to shut up and for Maya to stop talking. He crouched down with the knife resting easily in his hand. "Now you listen, Dolly.. " he replied and tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. "You couldn't fight your way out of a wet paperbag right now, much less put me down.. but you're right, there's other brainhosts to hunt down.. but when I'm done, Buddy Blue, I'll come after your mistress.. you better pray to whatever clown that created everything that the Dithparu inside her is gone by then..." Baile's eyes blinked in the darkness, a predator watching the prey.
Corgan stood up, took three uneasy steps, then tottered into a wall, leaning on it for support. The worst of the pain was over, and he didn't yet have the mental fortitude to break T'lan's hold completely. Every bit of resistance on his part was thwarted. The more he resisted, the more pain he felt. It was so insurmountable that even James did not know the strength of T'lan's domination. As far as he knew, it could kill him. He resisted very little now, a small, inward smile of content knowing he could fight back and send a message.
"Wait." Corgan regained his composure, the very picture of grace under pressure, "I must protect the mistress. She is mine. Let me handle her, please. She was one of my deputies, and a dear friend. We have shared many experiences, and I admit that I am fond of her. If anyone has a right to face her... it is I. Her control is not absolute, not even in her new body... though I don't know for sure, it is more of a gut instinct. But please, she is one of my officers. Let me handle her."
The glowing eyes remained fixed on Corgan. "Just remember, Commander.. you fail then she dies."
He sheathed the knife and took a few steps back into the darkness surrounding them. Corgan's pulse still echoed in his head as he without a sound vanished from the battleground. Corgan had been right. They had a ship full of enemies and not much time left. Killing them one by one, simple as it was, didn't solve the problem fast enough. Eventually the ship would run out of crew, but there was a high probability he would be long dead by then.
More.. drastic measures had to be taken. The Galaxy was still a strange place to him. he held no command, which meant he would have to find someone that did. He stopped for a few seconds and looked at Corgan at the end of the corridor. Who ever controlled him was dumb as a rock. What idiot sent a soldier into spasms in the middle of a fight? He made a mental note of it as a potential chink in the armor.
Baile had no idea where he would be able to find someone with high enough access to the systems. Anna was down in engineering, but that place was out of the question. Too far and most likely to get overrun soon. Logic, and tactics, suggested that key personnel who the enemy either couldn't control or deemed too important to shoot straight away would be kept somewhere it was easy to keep an eye on them. That left only a few places to check. The armories, sickbay and the brig.
And he still hadn't had breakfast yet. Bloody hell.
*******
~"F**king hell, did I just lose?"~ Corgan asked himself, limping away from the fight. He returned to the light, his stomach roiling and his head feeling as if it was open palmed bitchslapped by an asteroid. His trachea creaked and rasped and his muscles felt like they've lifted weights, but those physical ailments left by Baile were nothing compared to the reasserted mind meld hypnosis. That was a real pain, a real terror. Slavering beasts like Baile were easy; James has faced monsters all his life, including his own.
T'lan was something else even he couldn't fight alone.
As he walked away, he collected his hand phaser and went about his duty. The marine known as Baile had to be reported to T'lan, whom would then tell the rest of the Dithparu. He would be hunted by kill teams with phaser weaponry. With his knowledge of the ship and experience fighting on it's decks, there would be no place for Baile to run.
He had to regroup to his mistress, to find others to hunt the renegades. But that would be after. The mistress also wanted Admiral Proctor. After that, the hunt would begin.
After all, didn't he threaten the Mistress? Reasserted mental commands, combined with the loyalty to his former deputy demanded that either way, she needed to be protected. It was a matter of convenience for both sides.
He left, his dominated self soon forgetting the unpleasantness of his wavering support for his Mistress.
"Cat and Mouse"
(Takes place immediately after 'Trivial Pursuit')
Principal Characters
Lt Ella Grey
Flight Officer Angelienia
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 29
Jeffries Tube Gamma 17-E
"God hates me." Ella said clearly, still holding the phaser at the woman before her.
"Of course she does, Mouse," Angelienia replied, shaking her head. "Why else would She have let you see something you want so badly, and then take it away from you?"
Bitch, Ella thought. "How do I know you're not possessed?"
"A good question," Angelienia admitted as she leaned against the wall and looked down at Ella with her green cat's eyes, looking good enough in her torn and dirty flight uniform that Ella thought she should hate her just for that. "Is anything I say likely to convince you that I'm still me?"
"You could drop dead." Ella said sweetly. "That would do a lot."
"You already admitted that God hates you," the Ktarian pointed out. "Why would She do that, if the thought of the man you want being the man that I'm going to have hurts you so much?"
Ella grunted and dropped her arm, mainly because the effort of holding it up was too hard. "What's happening out there?"
"I don't know, Angelienia admitted. "I barely got my ship back into the bay for a shift change when everything went crazy and people started acting... wrong. Hurting each other." She shook her head and looked at Ella closely for the first time. "I see one of them hurt you, Mouse."
"I'm surprised you're not jumping with joy." Ella said through gritted teeth.
"Don't be stupid, Mouse." She knelt down and examined the injury. "Why would I want that?"
The engineer only raised an eyebrow.
Angelienia smiled in a predatory way. "Oh no, Mouse; I want you to be there, to see us together, and know that I've won. Nothing makes a victory sweeter than a defeated opponent on the sidelines to see your success." She shifted Ella's tunic. "Phaser, but on a low setting - they wanted to hurt you, not kill you."
"It worked." She said sharply, smacking away the Ktarian's hand. "Unless you have a medkit or were a doctor in another life, hands off!"
The Ktarian woman smirked and reached into her flight suit's thigh pocket to produce a small medkit.
The thought of Angelienia helping her... well, Ella could admit it, a part of her was sulking in her mental corner and claiming that she'd rather die. But Ella had gone through too much to lose the good fight in a damned junction from an infection of all things. She'd let Angie help her. "Fine. Fix it."
Angelienia took some readings with the small scanner in the kit and then dialed a setting on the hypo. "Pain first." The hypo hissed against Ell's skin. "You may feel lightheaded," the pilot cautioned as she started to work.
"You know," Ella said, wincing as the other woman started dressing the wound. "This is only a temporary setback."
"What is?" Angelienia asked absently as she sprayed the injury with a cleaner and watched it foam up.
"Victor and I," the engineer clarified, happy with the way the Ktarian's eyes narrowed with that little phrase.
"Really?" Angelienia asked as she sprayed a sealant over the phaser burn.
"Yes." Ella said coolly. "He'll forgive me, we'll work things out, and your bony ass can watch from outside the church the day we marry."
Bold words, Ella thought, given that 1) Victor wasn't speaking to her, 2) she didn't know if she ever wanted to get married, and 3) Victor wasn't speaking to her, but she had had it with this bitch. Even if Victor never forgave her, she'd burn in hell before she'd let Angelienia win.
Ella smiled sweetly, overcoming her physical pain just so she could stick it to another woman- an age-old mark of womanhood. "But don't worry, I'll send you a piece of the cake."
"I think I gave you too much pain medication, Mouse - you're raving," the Ktarian replied as she leaned back. "I think that will do it - provided you don't feel the need to jump in front of any more phaser blasts."
Ella shot her a dirty look. She felt better, damn it. She didn't want to owe this woman anything.
The pilot produced her own phaser and checked it. "I'm on half-power. You, Mouse?"
"Same." Ella said, sitting up straighter.
"Then we wait here for a few minutes to let the pain medication do its thing, and then we start moving again." The blonde nodded towards Ella's injury. "Was it the Vulcan from Security and her mind-slaves that got you?"
"No. A joined Trill. I'm not sure what department. I didn't realize that telepathy extended to that between host and symbiont." At Angie's raised eyebrow, Ella scowled. "I think I get points for realizing that telepaths are possessed, thank you very much. What do you mean by mind-slaves?"
"The Vulcan woman on Delta Shift," Angelienia spat. "The Brig Supervisor, T'lan. She got to most of the duty-shift and did something to them. Mind-melded or something. They're all following her around like drones, trying to take over the ship. I saw them from a distance while she was wrapped around Commander Corgan like a cheap Orion whore in the hallway, making his Andorian lover watch."
She remembered that sharp pain she had felt on the station. Ella wondered why they hadn't taken her then but then considered the host. If she was an alien wanting to take over someone else's body, she wasn't sure she'd want to be in her head either. "Great."
Angelienia shook her head. "This is bad, Mouse. Very bad. I don't like hiding in these tunnels, but there isn't anywhere else that's safe right now."
Ella didn't want to but she had to ask. "Have you seen Victor?"
"No," the Ktarian replied. "He was on a team going to the Starbase, I know that, and the shuttle that took his team is back - I saw it in the hangar - but I don't know if he's here." She spat again. "If he was, he'd make short work of the Vulcan bitch. I never trusted her."
"Why's that?" Ella asked, not really caring but wanting to distract the woman while she tried to stand up. There was a lot of grunting and groaning involved and she didn't want to give Angelienia anything more to use against her.
"Because when she looked at him, she just saw a uniform, she didn't see what he was inside it, didn't want to feel what it was like to be next to him. How could she be trusted if she didn't want him too? How can you trust anyone that doesn't think like you?" She smiled, the pointed tips of her teeth showing. "That's why I trust you Mouse - because you see it too."
"You see Victor as a conquest." Ella said, swaying slightly on her feet.
"In your own way, so do you," the pilot observed.
She thought about it. Perhaps she had, at one time. "No. Not anymore."
Angelienia laughed softly and ran a hand through her hair. "Of course not, Mouse."
Ella shrugged. "Sneer all you want, Angie. It's not like your way has won his heart either." She looked around the room, seeing the map of the ship in her head. "I was taking apart the ship before that Trill used me as target practice. We could continue to do that, I suppose."
"They'll know, of course. Even if the other engineers locked them out, there are too many telepaths in your department - assuming that your theory is right - for them to not be able to find us in here sooner or later. We need to find someone with access codes and the ability to activate systems the telepaths can't stop in case the non-telepaths start to lose, Mouse." The pilot looked at her. "Who can blow the ship up?"
"Blow it up?" Ella exclaimed. "That's a bit extreme, isn't it?"
"Yes, but if we lose this ship to the parasites infesting our telepaths, what happens then? They pack up and fly to Vulcan? To Trill? To Betazed?" Angelienia asked. "We can't let that happen."
Ella frowned. "For access to auto-destruct... the Captain, the first officer, and then after that its odd pairings that I'm not really privy to. To physically do it, well anyone with a bomb could do it, especially if they're around the warp core."
"What about the diplomat, the Kelvan... Curran? Can he blow the ship up?" the pilot asked. "I don't know what codes he knows or has."
"I suppose." Ella said, biting on her lip. "I really don't know the protocol, Angie. Probably."
"Okay, so we need the Captain, the Kelvan, or a bomb in Engineering?" Angelienia pursed her lips as she thought. "Let's try to find the Captain or Curran first. If we throw a bomb there's no taking it back." She looked over at Ella. "Can you do something with the computer; maybe get a line on them? That would be faster than looking deck-by-deck."
Ella shook her head. "A lot of the systems are been sub-rooted to another station, probably by the Captain or another officer before the possessed took over the ship. The best I can manage is a reading of heat signatures. Of course the comm is working but that would mean broadcasting to everyone where we are."
"We don't want to do that," Angelienia agreed. "Could you look at the comm logs and see where their badges were transmitting from? Maybe that would tell us," the Ktarian suggested.
"It's only going to tell us where they were." Ella said but nodded. "I suggest we leave the minute we check."
The pilot nodded. "They'll have someone in the tubes soon - we're going to need another place to go soon, anyway." She looked back the way she'd come. "I... Hurry, before someone comes."
Ella grunted, moving over to the nearest station. The medicine was good but her mobility was still going to be a problem. "Okay, here's where the Captain and Curran were last."
OOC: Suggested listening "Seizure of Power" by Marilyn Manson from the "Resident Evil" soundtrack. It's the creepy instrumental bit that is only played in small chunks in the movie but it has the "dah dah, dah dah, badah dah dah" thing going. Plus it fits, trust me on this.
"Rave of the Dead"
Starring:
Ensign Marcus Slayton
Engineering Officer
2nd LT Greg Ward
Blue Team Leader/ARC Operations Lead, SFMC
Ensign Teryn Wilat
Flight Control Officer (NPC)
Ensign Katrin Youngblood
Operations Officer (NPC)
Ensign Eytan
Medical Officer (NPC)
SGT Major Niklaas Furji
2nd Platoon XO/CO 1st Squad (Red One), SFMC (NPC)
Lance Corporal Grace Waldron
Infantry/Sniper/ARC Trooper, SFMC (NPC)
Private Michael J. Caboose
Infantry/ARC Trooper, SFMC (NPC)
Private Franklin Donut
Infantry/ARC Trooper, SFMC (NPC)
==================================
Location: Jefferies Tube Delta-Seven Tango
For Greg Ward, leader of the Blue Team of the Galaxy's marines as well as the Galaxy's Advanced Recon Commando unit code-named "Fox Hound", he'd been slightly disturbed when he started seeing things after his talk with Saia earlier that day when the away team fro DS5 got back.
Being a trill meant that something wasn't right and it was something that the ARCs knew better as they had pulled security detail during the parasite crisis that locked down the bajor system a few years back. It was this same thing that lead Greg along with Teryn, Katrina and three ARCs to travel around the jefferies tubes, armed with what they could find.
At first, Furji thought that the CO of Blue Team was simply having a strange day but then he saw the bodies in some of the rooms of the ship and it was this that lead Furji to travel through the tubes, keeping an eye out for anyone who wasn't acting like themselves.
"Great Caeser's Toast, Greg! What the hell is going on?" Furji asked when the group finally stopped for a breather. Caboose was keeping their rear covered with his battle rifle aimed down the direction that they had just come from while Waldron and Donut was checking the passageway below them with their combat tricorders.
Greg turned to face the bajoran sergant and shook his head when one of the images started to appear briefly. "I don't know, Sarge, but needless to say that what ever is going on in the rest of the ship, it's affecting me for some reason and I intend to get to the bottom of it." he responded with a look of anger on his face. He looked over at Donut who was opening the hatch to the passageway and then Waldron leaned out with her battle rifle to check the hallway before pulling herself back in and motioning for the rest of the group to follow her then she went into the corridor.
A few seconds later, Greg and the rest of the group was outside of the ship's medical complex and Greg decided that he wanted to start getting some answers and he lead the group into the complex, heading for one of the smaller medlabs.
Meanwhile, in medlab two, Ensign Marcus Slayton was sitting on a bio-bed while Ensign Eytan scanned him with a tricorder. "I'm not detecting anything expect some unusual theta wave transmissions going on in your head, mister Slayton." the Brenari said to the older officer. "From the looks of it, you may have some kind of low level telephatic or empathic talents, are you aware of this?"
"My grandmother on my father's side was betazed, but I didn't think I could even remotely get anything like that. It's probally just residual excess chemistry, doc. Thanks." Marcus responded as the doors to med-lab two opened up to allow Greg and a small group of people into the room, and when Eytan saw this, his face broke into a wide smile. "My friends, it's good to see you but why are you armed?" he asked, geasturing to the weapons that the group had. Marcus' own hand went towards the phaser rifle that was still with him as he went straight from the transporter room to sickbay after the away team had beamed back.
But before he could reach it, he had two marine issue battle rifles aimed at him and one of them was being aimed by Marc's friend in Grace. "I wouldn't do that, Marc. Might be bad for your health.." was the only thing that she said, her grip was tighting on the stock of the rifle visiblly. Marcus moved his hands away from the rifle as Greg walked up to Eytan.
"Eytan, I need you to scan me and find out why I keep having these strange visions. I need to know if my body chemistry is acting up or something just as strange." Greg said and Eytan geastured to the near-by bio-bed and Greg sat down as his friend scanned him and then the tricorder started beeping strangly. "This is odd, it seems that something is trying to interact with the neural pathways in your mind, Greg." Eytan said but then he saw something draw his attention over to where Marcus was.
The other doors opened up and a lance of orange energy slammed right into Marcus' back, throwing him off of the bio bed as Lavanna Loomis entered the room, the co-pilot and gunner of Anduril was aiming her own phaser rifle and was about ready to fire again when three bursts of energy slammed into her, throwing her back instead. Greg saw that two of the energy bursts came from Donut and Grace but the third was from Marcus, who's back was smoking just a little but when Furji and Katrina went over to check him out, he was in good shape but the hazard suit's shield system was fried.
"You okay, Marcus?" Grace asked as she looked at her friend but she saw that Marcus had a pained expression on his face. "Yeah, I just landed wrong on my head, that's all, Grace." he said
"Alright, I don't know what's happening here but what ever it is, we need to get to a place where we can get a secure line back to the fleet. Furthermore, we need to get the rest of the band together." Greg said as he but Eytan stopped him before he could move away.
"Greg, that thing I said about your pathways. Whatever it is, it's trying to take root. I think that you might be in danger." Eytan said
"E, I think that we're all in danger if we stay in one spot too long. We need to get going and quickly." Greg said as he shouldered his rifle and started moving towards the other doors to the med-lab and then went into the corridor and then he came back a moment later and geastured for the rest to come along.
"All right, sweethearts, you heard the man and you know the drill! Assholes and elbows!" Furji said and the group headed into the corridor and away from the med-lab as quickly as they could.
"Into the Toy Box: School's Out For Summer"
Principal Characters:
Lt. 8-Ball Hunter
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Samantha Widdlestein
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 9
Galaxy Dependent School
"Agreed," Victor said quietly from the doorway behind her, the words slicing through the room like frozen razors of fear thrown free as the gates to Hell opened wide.
Samantha smiled even though it hurt like hell. She was definitely going to write an ode to Victor or something once this was all over and have it published all over the galaxy.
"You're going to lose." She said in a sing-song voice to Hunter.
8-ball ignored the child. She turned to look at Victor, and was impressed with what she saw. "Well," she said. "If it isn't our hero. You look even cuter than my host remembered. Pity you're still in uniform, but we'll see what we can do to change that."
She kept her eyes on Victor, but spoke to the children around her. "Kids," she said. "It's time to go. Mommy and Daddy need some special alone time. Did I teach you the lesson about sexual intercourse? Ah, I guess that one will have to wait for another time. Now scoot."
The children started to move slowly for the door, watching to make sure this wasn't some form of trap. 8-ball took her phaser and without looking shot only inches away from a girl's head. "Faster," 8-ball said. "Mommy's waiting."
The kids ran. 8-ball walked backwards, eyes still on Victor, and picked up Samantha by the hair. "Are you sure we can't play with just this one? I don't think anyone but her parents will really mind, and they might even get used to the idea after awhile. I'm sure she must annoy everyone she meets."
8-ball heaved with her arm and threw Samantha to the middle of the room, large strands of the girl's hair caught between 8-ball's fingers. "If you want, you could kill her and I could just watch. I'm sure there's something inside you that would enjoy her slow death."
“Not today,” Victor replied from where he’d stepped inside the room so the other children could flee into the hallway. He looked down at Samantha, and his frown deepened at the sight of the cut on her face. “Before,” he asked the child quietly, “or after?”
"Huh?" Samantha managed, genuinely confused. She figured she was allowed; it had been a long afternoon and she'd just been tossed like a rag doll. Had that bitch just ruined her hair?
"Huh?" She heard the psychotic Hunter echo. Sam stuck her tongue out at the woman.
Victor touched his face in the same spot where Samantha was cut. “Before,” he repeated, his voice still quiet, “or after I told her?”
"B-before." Sam stuttered. "Before you answered the page."
Victor nodded once. “Good.” Without another word he reached down and lifted Samantha up to her feet. The bonds that held her small frame snapped easily under his larger, more powerful hands. “Round up the other children,” he ordered. “Take them to a room with only one entrance, and short out the door so it can’t be overridden. Wait there until they cut the door down or this is over.” His pale blue eyes bored into hers, and for an instant it was if someone – something – else were looking out through them at her, as if his face were a mask, concealing something that her mind shied away from recognizing for what it was. “They’re your responsibility. Don’t let them down.”
"Y..yes, Sir." Samantha said, actually amazed that she was shaking. Long afternoon, she told herself again. "I won't let you down."
“Forget me,” Victor replied, still holding her eyes. “Save them. Understand?”
No one had ever asked her to do something so important before. Samantha suddenly felt horrified that it would have to be today, of all days, that she was asked. "I will."
“Then go.” He straightened up and glanced at the thing puppeteering 8-Ball. “This isn’t your place any more.”
Sam moved like lightening out of the room to go round up the children. "Hit her hard." She threw over her shoulder as the doors closed.
8-ball tapped her foot impatiently. "I'm waiting, Victor. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to keep a girl waiting?"
Victor looked at 8-Ball for a moment, head tilted to the side wolfishly. “Is she still in there?” he asked, his voice losing the emotionless edge that it had assumed while talking to Samantha and again becoming the one he’d used as he entered the room, his words more like razor-edged, frozen blades of fear that he hurled rather than spoke. “Or is she gone, washed away?”
~I'm here~ Good 8-ball thought somewhat sourly. ~For all the good it does me.~
"And what if she is?" Anlaika responded through 8-ball's lips. She stepped closer to Victor, not within arm reach, but definitely closer than any sane person would have gotten when Victor sounded so inhuman. "What if she's gone;, disappeared, completely evaporated? Would you kill me then? And if 8-ball is still around, just a prisoner helplessly watching, could you still kill me, knowing you're killing her? I'm curious, Victor, I really am. You just don't strike me as the sentimental type. Does it really make a difference to something like you, whether 8-ball lives or 8-ball dies?"
“If she is gone, I’ll kill you now and walk away,” he returned, his words cutting at 8-Ball and the thing that was controlling her. “Convince me she isn’t, and you get to live. For now.”
~For the love of all that is unholy, tell her that the host is still alive!~ the unnamed Dithparu shrieked through 8-ball's brain. He was not a being who normally felt much fear, but the sound of Victor's voice could frighten anything away.
Anything, of course, except Anlaika, who smiled up at Victor. "I could tell you that she is alive, but how would you really know? You would take the word of someone who's murdered five people since coming aboard the Galaxy? You would believe someone who would like nothing better than to find those children and play with them some more? You can't intimidate me into telling the truth, Victor. I am not afraid of you. Everyone else in the whole universe may fear you, but all I see you when I look at you is food. You can't terrify me."
She stepped close enough to Victor to kiss him, even as the Dithparu and Good 8-ball screamed that this was a bad idea. "The only way you're ever going to know about 8-ball for sure is to look for yourself," Anlaika said. "So look, and see if you can find your little friend. But don't get lost." 8-ball grabbed Victor's head and put it to her own. "My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts."
Victor responded by taking 8-Ball’s jaw in one hand and clamping his fingers down painfully, forcing Anlaika to fight against the pressure of his grip that moved it to the side in order to maintain position. “No,” he said, the effect of his voice magnified by the closeness of Anlaika’s stolen body. “You don’t want to do that.” His other hand lifted, as if to strike her, but paused, as if waiting for a command.
8-ball shrieked in pain but kept hold of Victor. "Yes," she managed to say, "I do." Then she head butted forward, her skull crashing into Victor's. This probably hurt her more than it hurt him, but it was enough to loosen Victor's grip on her jaw for a moment, and that was all she needed. "I've always wanted to get better acquainted," 8-ball said, and then grabbed his head again and threw the three minds at Victor's own.
Victor fought back, resisting with more success than any of Anlaika’s previous conquests, holding her stolen powers at bay by force of will as he frowned down at her fiercely. “You need to…” There was a sudden shift in the way his mind resisted the pressure from hers, like someone else had assumed the duties, and his sense of presence slammed out at her like a hammer, sending the human side of 8-Ball’s thoughts reeling in fear, as something displaced Victor inside his eyes, like another entity had crept into the room and was now wearing the man she was trying to meld with like a mask.
Not-Victor smiled and relaxed the pressure of his hand on her jaw. “If you insist,” he whispered, and stopped fighting her.
“Let’s see what inside. I've longed to become better acquainted," Anlaika laughed with 8-Ball’s lips. The trio of minds – Anlaika, her subordinate male companion, and 8-Ball – pushed forward… and fell into someplace else.
"Awakening" - Part I
Commander Karyn Dallas, SO/Chief Counselor
Lt. JG Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Ensign Artim, Medical Officer
Ensign Rena Lanford, Medical Officer (NPC-Ian)
With Unauthorized Appearances by:
2nd Lt. Rayne Sutea, Furies Intelligence Specialist
Ensign Le'on Khatrowen, Security Officer
**
Main Sickbay
Deep Space 5
While the sudden surge of power back to the pod, indicating main power, or at least part of it, had been restored, his attention was immediately grabbed away by the plight of the Vulcan doctor. No matter what she said, there was definitely something wrong with her. Very wrong. Without really thinking, Artim had the peripheral of his medical tricorder out and began scanning. It didn't take long for his suspicions to be confirmed. The alien brain pattern was there, same as in the records.
"Someone, sedate her, now!", Artim said grabbing for his hypospray.
Karyn, realizing what was happening about the same time Artim did, had a hypo in hand in seconds.
Beside him the Chief Tactical Officer froze.
Memories flooded him. School yard, between tall dark buildings, beneath cloudy violet sky. The feeling of gravel beneath his torn shirt and scraped thighs. Looking up, seeing a dark figure towering above him.
Saul never got into a fight if he had the option. But as he heard Artim, he knew that he ran out of options, ran out of time.
A glance at Doctor Artim's Medical tricorder made sure of that.
Forgetting all about his safety, Commander McCauley, or his inclination to avoid close-quarters fights, Saul grabbed the nearest object, and rushed for
Rena.
Only when he was two steps away from her, he realized that he was holding a laser scalpel.
His thumb pressed against the scalpel activation surface.
It did not come to life.
"Naaien!"
Just as Dallas was about to push the plunger to release the hypospray's contents, she saw Saul rushing toward Rena. In a voice that was decidedly un-leader like, Karyn shouted. "Jesus Christ, Saul, what are you doing?"
In slightly less than the time it took for the others to react to her change, Rena reacted. Her host lost control of the body motions as the form's instincts took over.
The Vulcan woman spun on her heel, raising an arm up as the laser scalpel came at her, and dancing out of harm's way. Even though the instrument did not activate on first attempt, the alien's inhabitation caught up to the chemically induced reaction of the Vulcan, regaining control of the limbs. Without knowing why, she slammed her elbow up and out, drilling itself into the male's chin. His head snapped back, the scalpel fell from his hand, and his body began to fall, unconscious, to the floor.
Still in motion, Rena captured the scalpel and dove forward, coming up in a roll with the device in her hand still moving onwards and into the belly of the other woman on the team. Consoles crashed over between the two of them, but it was Lanford who came to her feet, tumbling.
"This body is far more capable than I could ever imagine." The woman who she had stabbed in the stomach with the blunted device made an attempt to pull her down into the rubble with her, but was met with a booted foot in the face. The satisfying crunch of bone met her ears, with the distinct aroma of blood wafting into her nasal cavity.
The hesitation of the unexpected tantalizing smell of copper by the infected medical technician was all the team's security officer needed.
With a hiss and cry, the miniaturized Caitian darted forward on his four legs to bound up the woman's leg, and tear at her eyes in a motion to blind her.
Rena was unsure how to react to the feline attack. All the memories and instincts she played off of were of bi-pedal species of near-equal strength and size. This was something she had been unable to prepare for.
She batted at Le'on's form on her upper body, desperately trying to tear him away from her. One leg would be freed, and the other three would re-clamp harder. Blood seeped out of wounds on her neck and face as she fell into the exposed wiring harnesses of the consoles.
At some point during the attack, though, the power went out. Whether it was from the confrontation itself or other means, they were now completely in the dark.
"What the heck, they just fixed it!", Artim half said, half shouted.
The stasis pod lights had gone dark as well.
No sound came from Le'on or Rena's position.
"Did you hit her with the hypospray, Commander?" Artim shone his portable light in the general direction of the two combatants,
"No, Ensign. I was afraid I'd hit Le'on. I take it you didn't, either?" Karyn buckled on her mechanical legs as she leaned over the still form of Saul.
"Nope, sure didn't." His light fell on the also-still form of Rayne Sutea, the Marine escort who'd been stabbed by the Vulcan. Jumping over broken machinery, he broke out his medical kit, tore open a self-cauterizing patch and sealed it against her stab wound as he stripped open her vest. "The Lieutenant will be alright. The scalpel broke through a seam, but didn't get far."
"Keep an eye out, Ensign. It's too quiet for my liking and Rena is still out there." Dallas beam shone around the room in effectually. It simply wasn't powerful enough to get any kind of sense of visual confirmation. "Saul will be okay, too, from what I can tell." Artim, having tended to the
Marine, made his way over to her position.
He scanned the man, confirming her suspicions. "Slight contusion at the back of the head, broken jaw. He should stay unconscious. Nothing he can do for us awake. Best not to aggravate the injury by allowing movement." He shot a sedative into the CTO.
Grabbing a standard tricorder from nearby, Artim began scanning for the Caitian and the missing Vulcan.
"Well, I can get her blood, over there. Looks likes Le'on is under there too. Can't quite pinpoint...whatever she became.", Artim said as he moved to pull Le'on out from under the rubble.
Several meters away, eyes burned red as they watched the movements of the portables around the area. Looking for her presumably. She'd been able to tap her memories to determine the best materials for mending her wounds, and been able to retrieve some minor alleviant from her host's medical pouch. Her face still scratched in many places, but at least the deep gouges had ceased oozing.
From somewhere to the remaining officers' left, a hiss, having been minor previously, now grew in pitch and tone. It was one of those sounds that you didn't realize it was there until later, and concluded that it had been there all along.
The two officers shone their lights in the direction of the sound, and they fell upon the stasis pod.
It had opened.
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