"The Relative Merits and Benefits to Staying Locked in a Closet"

as told by Lt. (JG) 8-ball Hunter

8-ball was dreaming of blue demons and devils when she woke up with a start, her head snapping backwards into a unseen wall behind her. She was almost grateful for the instant throbbing in her head because it let her know that she really was awake. Everything around her was so pitch black that 8-ball couldn't even tell if her eyes were open at all. For a moment she even thought she was back in the Dark Room in the Hydran temple, but then her memories caught up with her, as memories usually do.

Anlaika. Wheyson. Joe Satan. Samantha. Shiva-Vic. Kali. Dorothy Gale.

Nope, definitely not back in the Dark Room. She'd moved on to different types of hells since then.

8-ball felt around her surroundings to discover that she was in a very small room, probably some form of closet. Great. As if she needed to be locked in closets with everything else. She could probably add claustrophobia now to her list of new neurosis's caused by being a member of the Galaxy.

Only, truthfully, 8-ball didn't feel particularly panicked. Sure, she couldn't remember why she was in a closet. . .last thing she remembered was standing in the schoolroom with the more normal version of Victor before everything going dark. . .but there seemed to be no bad guys sharing the closet with her, or for that matter, sharing her own mind. This was a definite improvement. The closet was probably a good thing.

8-ball let herself slide down to a sitting position and rubbed her temples slowly. Hangovers didn't hold a candle to the headache she had going right now. That was a probably a side affect of being sprung into Vicky's demented mind and then having invading, alien beings ripped from her psyche. Along with the headache, 8-ball also felt sore, nauseous, overly warm, slightly dizzy, and pretty much just like crap. If she ever got out of her new predicament, 8-ball decide a week's worth of Sickbay could be just the vacation she was looking for.

Or maybe she could just hijack a shuttle off this boat and head to Risa indefinitely.

8-ball thought about that for a minute and sighed. Nah. For better or worse, she'd made a life here. This was home. Kansas it was not, but home all the same. Part of this was depressing, but it was at least partially reassuring too. There was something comforting in the idea that you belonged somewhere.

8-ball couldn't help but look down at her feet to make sure that she wasn't wearing ruby red slippers. Nope, simply black, standard Starfleet issue shoes. It was almost disappointing. Then 8-ball realized that she could actually see her shoes, and that her eyes must have adjusted. She took a moment to look at her surroundings. There wasn't a whole lot to look at, but she knew where she was now. The little closet that held some games and other knick knacks in the school room. Probably Victor had locked her in here and gone off to do whatever it was that Victor did during a crisis. Killed people. Saved people. Made stoic comments about sheep and the nature of evil. Maybe he was even kissing Ella.

8-ball decided this was unlikely too, and that she had better things to think about than her friend's love life. Then 8-ball thought about all the things she could be thinking about (people she had killed, kids she had tortured, psychic imprisonment she had faced) and decided that she didn't really want to think about any of those things anyway. Ella's love life, or lack of, was a nice diversion.

"She's got it even worse than I do," 8-ball said outloud to herself as she shifted position slowly, removing some uncomfortable toy that she had been partially sitting on. "That guy is decidely not normal. I mean, I always knew he wasn't normal but I didn't know HOW not normal. That is not normal in the extreme. That is not normal to the point of freakishness. Still, he saved my life and I very much appreciate that. Why am I talking outloud? I really shouldn't be talking outloud. If anybody can hear me, they either probably think I'm insane because I'm talking outloud to myself while being locked in a closet, or they want to kill me, in which case I'm pointing them directly towards me. And yet I'm still talking outloud. Dammit. Shut up, 8-ball. Shut up."

8-ball managed to keep herself quiet for a moment and then decided that the sound of her own voice comforted her for some reason, perhaps because she actually had control of it. "Well, there's probably nobody lurking outside the closet in the Galaxy schoolroom listening to me talk, so I'm just going to continue to talk while I'm here. I mean, why not? This day can't get anymore fucked up. Oh, God, did I just really say that? I didn't mean it, I swear. Every day can always get more and more fucked up. I believe in this absolutely and truly. Please don't make my day worse. It was just starting to look up. That's really sad to say, considering that I'm locked in a closet. But it's true."

"I suppose I could get out of this closet. I mean, I'm a smart girl. I could figure it out. But do I really want to leave? I'm relatively comfy here, amidst all the toys and broken desks and stuff, and nobody's trying to kill me. I suppose I should consider it my duty to get out of here and try to help all the other people who've been imprisoned and regain the Galaxy and blah blah blah."

8-ball thought about that for a minute. "On the other hand, I'll probably either just get myself killed or possessed again. Getting killed is very much a bad, and I don't really fancy getting possessed again either. I mean, what was the point of going through Victor's mind and all that pain and horror and crap if I'm just going to get my ass taken over? I think that's reckless in the extreme. I think that's just genuinely the worst idea I've ever heard, and I think it's against my Starfleet duty to endanger my mind again, thereby potentially making the situation on the Galaxy even worse than it already is. I'm not being cowardly at all. I'm being smart. I'm being logical."

8-ball sighed. "Oh, fine, I'm being cowardly. I don't give a damn. I want to stay alive, dammit, and sane and with the power to make my arms and legs move where I want them to. And I don't want to have any more sex or torture today, thank you very much. I've had a long day. I don't want to make it any longer. So I'll just sit here until the Galaxy is retaken by the Galaxy crew and I get rescued. Or until the Galaxy is retaken by the Dithparu and I get found and eaten. Either way, I'm keeping my ass in this closet. This is good. This is a plan." 8-ball nodded to herself. "Uh huh. I feel good about this plan.

Five minutes went by.

"Really. I'm just. . .going to sit here. And feel good. And not bored at all."

Five more minutes.

"Seriously. I'm into the plan."

Another five minutes.

"Yeah. Um. Yeah."

Another five minutes.

"This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on, my friend. . ."

"Queen's Gambit"

By "The Mistress" (formerly Lieutenant jg. T'lan)
Commander James Lionel Corgan
Admiral Olivia Proctor
Commander Mark Sheridan

Location: Admiral's Quarters

The encirclement of Admiral Proctor's quarters was efficient and fast; the trademark of any security officer trained in James Corgan's shipboard squad tactics. The security team, under T'lan, moved in and sealed off the area, watching their backs for more resistance from the mundane humans and whatever rogue psykers were left. The tension was high. This action was of upmost importance.

This T'lan knew, and it was this that kept her high strung.

She felt increasing resistance from her security chief, like a flare up in the darkness that was brief but explosive, yet died just as quickly. To that she chuckled with mirth. This was the first time her mind meld domination technique was truly tested, and almost failed. The fact that it didn't made her smile.

Secondly, she took it upon herself to bring Admiral Proctor into the fold. The ship was disabled by Captain M'Kantu, and the only way to bring her online was to find another, higher ranking officer coax the ship's computers into doing more than flashing red alert signals. Conveniently unreported to the other Dithparu and surprising that none of the Kind tried to chastise the young upstart for such imputent action, T'lan was determined not to fail. Unlike the Captain, she had it on good authority that the Admiral wasn't nearly as wily.

Increasing resistance was less of a worry now. She was close to her goals. Soon there would be no more need for her thralls. The ship was almost theirs.

Her prime thrall, the ship's former security chief, returned from his side trip. He was slightly battered, but looked well for a man that tried to slip his leash. Bemusedly, T'lan watched her champion return, minus his trademark smoked lensed glasses.

"The threat?" T'lan asked.

Corgan replied, subserviently, "Gone."

"Good, Commander." T'lan grinned, feeling like she had gotten away with sin, "We have the area surrounded. There is no other activity. We will now meet with the Admiral. Ring her doorbell, ask for an audience."

"Sir..." James croaked, complying, his finger heavily pressing on the doorbell.

"..You may leave now, Commander. Your groveling was most enjoyable, but there are other matters to attend to."

The Dithparu within Sheridan raged outward in a desperate attempt to satiate the revilement it felt at the patronizing behavior of the Admiral. Unfortunately for them, the ability to make inroads upon the female's delusions of grandeur was also dependent on her holier than thou attitude. The wild emotional swings made it difficult to keep up, yet capable of manipulation. Still, it wasn't a comfort the alien would tolerate for long.

As Azuul pivoted on Sheridan's heel, the buzzer ignited beyond his point of exit. On the cusp of his thought, the song of the Kind pulsated on the waves of psionics.

"Could you get that, Commander? See who it is first, before leaving. I'm expecting room service. The replicators serve out such bland foods..." Proctor rambled as the XO-incumbent ignored her. His Kind were far more important than the insect buzzings.

He depressed the lock mechanism to admit the enthralled form of the ship's Security Chief. The lines etched on his face showed strain. Sheridan's eyes flickered about, and settled on a female form beyond him. The echoes of his kind resonated strongly from her, the web of her energies encompassing the immediate vicinity. Instinctively, he mentally reached out and clasped her as a ring in a chain. He felt the burden she felt, and would feel until they took hold of more on this ship, or reduced their numbers for feed.

"Commander Corgan. What can we do for you? Is there a problem?"

Taken aback by the sudden psychic link, T'lan felt surprised and then relieved to share her burdens with Azuul. He was a powerful being. Though she preferred her solitude, Azuul was a Dithparu she could work with.

T'lan nodded to the security chief. James puppeted, "There is a problem. I need to speak to the Admiral immediate, and I will have to spare the formalities. They are of not much use in a starship emergency."

~"Can you hear me?"~ T'lan thought, reaching out for Azuul's presence, ~"I cannot transmit in this body without physical contact. You will need to read my mind. Can you hear me?"~

Azuul was not completely unaware of the other's wished independence. He touched the forefront of her being to allow her the knowledge of being amongst her own, then retreated, until he heard her call out to him.

~I can hear you. I haven't been able to determine the extent of our expansion into this ship. The Admiral is demanding in her requests, much to the extent of being unable to explore beyond the local area. I can feel the others, but nothing else. It's been difficult.~ His host's eyes flicked to the right, in the direction of the flat-nosed female who was now calling him back.

"What's the problem, Commander?" She pushed her chair out to stand and see what was going on.

"The ship's Security Chief is requesting an interview with you. He says it's an emergency, and I'm inclined to support his views on it."

Proctor straightened her posture, pulling down her vest in a vested attempt to appear important. Coming alongside her XO, she peered out into the sparsely populated corridor, devoid of all personnel except a security contingent.

"Is the Captain aware of this emergency? I haven't been informed of any alerts."

~"She did not receive our communication?! Did she live in isolation like us?!"~ T'lan thought, flabbergasted, ~"How much does she know about the ship's status?"~

~She knows only what I allow her to know. She needed to be contained until I knew the status of the others.~

~"Commander, convince her to let you in. Tell her enough to feed her curiousity, and put an emphasis on urgency."~

Corgan stepped up. "Sir, the Captain is the instigator of the emergency. He is under protective custody with my staff. May I speak to you? I'm afraid this is more urgent than you know. Lives are at risk the more we delay." He said with a convincing, and stressed air.

Azuul's chest puffed with pride. With this Corgan's information, the end was near. Very little obstacles remained.

"The Captain? Instigated what?" Proctor grew wary of the security contingent, especially Commander Corgan, whose strained look was either suspicious or genuine. Fortunately for the Dithparu, Proctor's ambitions far outweighed her concerns.

"Commander, step aside." She touched the Ullian on the shoulder, soon to turn to a cold grip as he moved to allow the visitors entry without yield.

Ordering the rest of the thralls to stay outside, T'lan directed James, ~"Go with Azuul. Tell the admiral what she needs to know. Do not let her suspect our involvement or there will be trouble. Would you like to be responsible for an Admiral's death, no matter how contradictory she is to the Darwin's rule of survival of the fittest? Or perhaps I will snap your mate's neck like a frail sparrow! Do it!"~ She commanded sharply, James wincing with a past rememberance of the pain she inflicted. He entered the Admiral's quarters, playing the role of a harried security chief well (though the harrassment was for different reasons!).

James spoke, the weight of his mental chains pressing on him like that of his responsibilities during crisis. "Esteemed Admiral, our present situation is deteriorating. We are under attack by an unknown enemy. All I can tell you is that they cannot yet be fought by conventional means and that they have attacked members of our crew. One of the victims was Captain M'Kantu. One of these beings used him to disable the ship by sabotaging key systems using a security protocol he failed to tell me about. Command codes are wiped, we have no means of defense, communications are disrupted and we have no way of bringing these systems back online. From the looks of things... we're f**ked."

The Admiral's eyes hardened at the news. It was understandable why she was kept in the dark, if the story about M'Kantu is true.

"Where is the Captain now?"

~"Tell her where she is."~

James mimicked, "Captain M'Kantu has been apprehended and confined to the brig. We captured him after his sabotage attempt."

"And you have not been able to restore any of the over-rides?"

"No sir, we have not. Personnel are scattered and communicating is difficult, not to mention that we don't know who's been taken by the unknown threat yet." Corgan added, with a hint of drama, "With all those factors against us, it'll take ages to scrape together the personnel needed to restore our systems. Then to find a way to weed out the taken from the untaken... it's a f**king security officer's nightmare! Expect that way to take hours, ma'am."

"Give me the bottom line, Commander. Are any critical systems under our control?"

"Life support systems are ok. But we have no propulsion, communications, and tactical systems. We're alive... the ship is dead in the water."

She tapped her commbadge. "Proctor to Engineering." Nothing. She repeated the motion. Still nothing.

"Proctor to main bridge." Still nothing.

"Engineering is a hot zone." James said, "The bridge is empty. Captain M'Kantu stunned the bridge crew."

"What's the status of the Armory? Hangar bay? Are the Vanguards affected?"

James paused, feeling the instructions of T'lan feed him the complex information, "Armories one to three are under enemy control. We have various small arms lockers all over the ship. We don't know how many of those are in their hands. My team was able to grab what they could from the main security armory before coming here. Shuttle bays are locked out, with no way of opening them short of a phaser blast from a runabout... I don't know the status of the shuttles, but the aliens aren't taking them."

James then said in a sombre tone, "And ma'am, I don't know what happened to the Vanguards. Nor the marines, or the rest of my Hazard Team."

"Auxiliary and Core control?"

~"Still under our control."~ T'lan's inner voice whispered.

James relayed the information, "Still in our hands, Admiral. I took the liberty of securing the main computer core with a team of my men. Who knows how long we'll hold it."

~"That's why we must move quickly."~

"That's why we must move quickly."

~"We will face danger."~

"We will face danger."

~"We were taken by surprise, but we are in no way out of the fight."~

"We were taken by surprise, but we are in no way out of the fight."

~"We will protect you."~

"We will protect you."

~"You have my word, Admiral."~

"You have my word, Admiral."

~"See how well he is cowed, dear Azuul?"~ Mistress T'lan thought, smug in her dominance, ~"Even the thought of disobeying him brings pain and discomfort. Incapable of thoughts of rebellion. Shall we take the Admiral, or deceive her for awhile?"~

~There will be plenty of time for that. For now, let us just play with the prey for a time. I want to see the look in her eyes when she realizes she was the one who betrayed her kind, not Captain M'Kantu. Then, I will feast on her flesh, slowly, succulently. Perhaps I may share, if you haven't decided to enjoy your own spoils.~ Casting his eyes to the averted gaze of Commander Corgan, Azuul permitted himself a small smile, licking his lips in anticipation.

Admiral Proctor rubbed her lips in thought. Pacing back and forth across the table, Azuul and Corgan exchanged looks.

"Admiral," Azuul stepped up to intercede her return path to the head of the lengthy console table within her VIP quarters she had been using for makeshift meetings with staff and the incorrigible Curran, "You need to take command. Now. You're the only one who can over-ride the Captain's command codes."

"Not without that damnable Curran's authentication codes. How I loathe the Liaison Corps." Only because it prevented issues of the past of flag officers taking unmolested control away from the commanding officer at a whim. "The chain of command follows until there is no command staff remaining. CO, XO, SO, Operations. Only when all are incapacitated can I take command."

"Or have any available ones concur on your taking command."

"I doubt that would happen, Sheridan. Henderson made it perfectly clear he isn't supportive of my decisions. He'll never give up command for me."

"Commander Henderson isn't on board. And neither are any of the others. Communications are down so we cannot bring them back. You have the authorization, Admiral."

The diminutive woman leaned over the console table with both hands resting on the edges of the table. Her gaze carried over to the station sitting large and bright through the window. That was her destination, her goal, her responsibility. But, she would have to use her prowess to save the Galaxy first. Then she'd show the naysayers here she was the real deal.

"Alright then. Let's go find Curran."

Mistress T'lan, out of sight and planning to stay that way, enjoyed the rare luxury of a Vulcan smile. The Admiral, upon hearing the heart tugging story of how she was the ship's only hope (and 'vicariously', a potential hero because of it), was the easiest to manipulate out of the whole pack of corporeal monkeys.

She didn't even need a mind meld.

T'lan kept her glee to herself.

"Me, Myself, and IV"

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 Unconscious

Madden
Alternate Persona
Raynor's Subconscious

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

Warning: maybe somewhat offensive in some tiny way to those religiously inclined… and if you have a thing against toilet humour… well don’t say I didn’t warn you…

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>. As he walked along the path he looked down, and saw he was currently represented in the avatar of his consciousness. He wore a black trench coat that went down to just below his knees in length. The trench coat concealed his also black protect gear, black clothing, pistols, katana, wakizashi, and other items. Upon his forehead there was a tattooed eye, from which a single tear was being shed. Under his real eyes, two curved downward streaks of black could be seen on his cheeks. Across his back was a massive cleaver of a sword, the blade approximately 5 feet in length, which looked like it could cut down the thickest oaks in a single swing. His hair was long wavy, flowing through the wind effortlessly, and a few strands swayed in front of his eyes as he walked. He opened his hand to grasp the dog tags, which hung from his neck, identification in the Terran Coven Mercenary Guild. His palms were gloved, though his fingers were fully exposed. He looked at the dog tags; Raynor's call sign was on one of them. Pariah Ronin.

An avatar of what he hid inside himself death, darkness, depression, rejection, and withdrawal from the society around him.

Pariah.

And then there was the weaponry he carried in this mental plain, not quite a soldier, yet not quite a warrior. Someone highly trained in many ways of war. A code of honour in ruins, and kills not for reason or morality, but for the highest bidder, with few exceptions. Motivated by vengeance, and survival.

Ronin.

He wondered if it was true what he believed about himself, or what he simply wanted to believe about himself. He closed his eyes and sighed... not the time for this sort of questioning. This is why Starfleet forced him into counselling. But this of course this is why he never gave them the slightest hint of, instead leading them other lines of thought. If he didn’t it would be more likely they would think he was seriously insane the more likely they were going to take him off active duty. His social sciences minor gave him a basic understanding of psychology, and knew enough that he shouldn't risk giving away the truth about himself.

Pariah noticed something about the path. In front of him was the very image of heaven, peace, and happiness. To his right the sun, which cast a great shadow to his left, which seemed to go on forever. Pariah closed his eyes and laughed. He had painted this image many times before... he opened his eyes and turned around to see what was behind him. The opposite was true of lay in his wake. Hell, terror, madness… and here he was, casting the shadow, which represented the dividing line. He began to walk towards the very image of hell when he realised something. He was constantly in between heaven and hell. A great shadow would always stand for the dividing line, and he was casting that shadow in this image... he took the cleaver off of his back and stabbed in the ground. Then just to make sure he lifted himself on to the hilt of the sword and did a back flip towards hell.

It worked... the cleaver was now the dividing line... and he began down the broken road that now lay before him...

Meanwhile… Kanin moved forward, increasingly annoyed by Madden.

~Are we there yet?~ Madden asked again.

"NO, YOU INSUFFERABLE CREATURE!" Kanin yelled. He had been pushed to his limit and it was clear he wasn't going to take anymore. "How the OTHER has the strength to deal with your constant pestering, I may never know. But so long as I have control over this body, you will remain SILENT!"

~Is that all? Here I thought you were supposed to be true evil. If I wanted cliché I would just read a comic book, ~ Madden laughed not at all intimidated. ~Pariah is scarier taking a dump than your threats. He at least has the decency to clog the toilet with methane producing shit, and light a match. ~ Madden paused... ~or was that me? Either way it gave new meaning to a pile of flaming crap, that's for sure... ~

"What is this cliché you speak of?" Kanin asked, suddenly curious. He was just outside the room where the structure was contained.

~ Obvious remarks. Predictable behaviour. Overdone. Something that a culture has seen over and over again, that it becomes near meaningless. Personally if I were you I would quit now... There's no room for pussies in the Devil's army. ~ Madden spoke plainly, as if he were stating a simple fact. Kanin did not take kindly to being regarded as meaningless.

"Who is this devil you speak of?"

~ You are not a demon of the devil I know. ~ Madden paused, and then decided to let his faith guide his next attack... then began chanting... ~ Satan... Satan... Master Satan... Open the door of hell… Open your glorious door to all of us... Satan... Satan... Master Satan... Prince of Darkness open the Eternal Door... The Dark King will come in… The Eternal King is a King of Kings... We adore him... WE ADORE HIM... Satan... Satan... Master Satan... Satan is the King of Glory... Satan is King over all creatures... Satan will come to rule over all of us... King of Glory comes to us... We adore you forever, and we expect your greatness... Satan... Satan... Master Satan... Satan... Satan... Master Satan... Satan... Satan... Master Satan... ~ Madden paused for a moment and then began to repeat... and began to remember all the pain he as a persona had inflicted in Lucifer’s name...

How he used to slit Zev’s wrists as a child and used the blood to paint the walls of his cabin. How he used burn squirrel like rodents alive as a child, when they got their planet side leave. Or if he decided to be merciful and let them go, cutting off their two hind legs... He remembered his first captured enemy at age 6, and how he made the bastard talk, starting with removing the dogs left nut... and then taking his fingers and toes one at a time... and he didn’t stop even when he got all the information, using the rest of the rag doll to perfect his methods of torture... he remember how Pariah let him roam free during the Coven's interrogation training, where he was bound to the wall... And how Pariah let him roam again when he was a prisoner of Rogue Cardassians, they turned Raynor into a lab rat pumping full of drugs to suppress him, manipulating his genetic code, eventually turning him into Madden in turn pumped them full of his 'insanity' and his 'faith'... this led the Cardassians to start slaughtering each other one by one... via ritual sacrifice... Yet somehow Pariah did not succumb to his faith like the others... in fact once Pariah regained control, he did much to lead Madden to question his faith... thus weakening it to almost nothingness... except in those rare moments... when everything else had failed and only thing left was submit yourself to the will of something greater... To Madden this was one of those rare moments...

Pariah was such a fool... Madden thought as he continued to chant... He believed he didn't give a damn about anything aside from his own survival... but when push came to shove Pariah would always do the right thing... Even if it meant making huge sacrifices, including risking his life...

Kanin stood there, listening to this chanting, seeing the images of pain and torture... and began to question who was truly in control of this body... He began to fear this other, like he would fear a superior Dithparu, it was uncanny the way this Madden carried himself when compared to them… but there was something else there... something more... but he couldn't put his finger on it... and so he continued on his awkward route, towards his ultimate goal the structure... beginning to fear what was inside this host more and more as he wandered closer and closer to his ultimate goal...

At the same time Pariah ran into a crossroad... "Great... where's a yellow brick road when you actually want one..."

"Where's the shit storm when you need one?" a familiar voice said from behind him…

Pariah closed his eyes, and caught himself smiling… it was his father, or the mental representation of his father... "Jack?"

"Saul Hunters"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental
Chief Tactical Officer

Midnight.

At the Utrecht III fish and seafood diner, Saul Bental leaned back in his chair. A (fortunately skinny) waitress was sitting on his lap. He didn't remember that the place was THIS kind of joint. Oh well.

"Of course I would. What do we got tonight? Ichiban was sour cream and slices of Herring?"

"No, Saul Bental.", The waitress said. "Today's special is your agenda… and liberation."

Saul tilted his head, exchanging glances with the man across the table. Saul expected his to protest, to make a counter proposal, maybe even to pull out a gun and blast the girl's head off. However, the man just watched him with mild interest.

So be it.

"You know nothing of my agenda.", Saul indicated.

"We know it ALL, Mr. Bental.", She whispered sweetly in his ear. "And I think that we could mutually benefit from a… trade."

A tingling sensation made its way to Saul's loins. His hands and cheeks were hot, burning. His cousin EZ always said that women were bad for business. It didn't prevent the gluttonous, hedonistic Bental from chasing them all their life for that same tingling sensation.

"I'm listening.", Saul said coolly.

And she told him. With short, brisk sentences she depicted a plan bringing Saul much closer to his goals. Instead of facing overwhelming odds as a single person, he would have the knowledge and power of centuries in his hands. Every decent merchant would, at that point, seek a catch – but she revealed it to him.

'The KIND' had a great interest in a backwater colony. One where they could act uninterrupted. The Federation didn't bother installing a modern water recycling system, why should they be concerned about some frontier colonists vanishing with no reason?

"I think both sides will be satisfied with the deal.", She concluded.

"It has no flaws.", Saul agreed. "I know that I'll remain safe at all times, because you WILL need me until the very last moments."

"You wouldn't agree otherwise.", The waitress said. "You're a smart man, Saul Bental, you wouldn't allow yourself a single moment of weakness."

Around them, the light became more dimmed, and the figures occupying the other tables of the Diner slowly appeared more and more dark and ghastly, almost as though they were shadows. Some of the shadows rose from their tables, and began to converge on Saul's table. Even the barman left the bar.

Saul offered her his hand. "Seal it with a kiss?"

The waitress giggled girlishly. "Not without a generous tip, mister."

And took his hand.

Saul leaped to his feet, pulling the waitress' arm and forcing her to turn around. With his other hand he raised the rifle. The air before the barrel became distorted as it discharged its payload onto nearest shadows head.

A hole was torn open where in the middle of the shadow's faceless head. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, and the shadow continued to move forward unscathed.

"Verdomd!", Saul muttered, and shoved the waitress forward. He could've sworn that she said 'This is no way to treat a lady.' As she tumbled toward the shadowy crowd and vanished within.

Behind him, the man from the stasis chamber kicked the table down. He knelt behind it, And Saul quickly did the same. The shadows loomed over the two of them, and something began to bombard the table.

"Use this instead.", The man offered Saul. In his hands waited a silver-colored pistol. Saul took it. It was as light as an Anorexic bird's feather.

"Can't we negotiate with the KIND?", Saul demanded, as the table the hid behind shuddered violently.

"I thought you already tried.", The man murmured back. "Now go on and use it."

"Why won't you use it?"

"I can't. She doesn't know what I am yet. If she does, we will have to slay her, and that will be far more difficult than just making her retreat."

Saul remained still for several moments.

"Grenades?"

The man shook his head.

Saul tried very hard to think of silvery grenades, but none came to be.

"Come on, it's MY dream, brain, make some grenades!"

"It doesn't work like that.", The elder man indicated.

Saul counted inwardly to three, then rose slightly, just enough for his eyes and the pistol's barrel to be above the table.

On the other side of the table raged a hurricane. Saul bit his lower lip – It's only a dream, only a friggin' dream, like on the way to Trill, it's just in your mind! – and squeezed the trigger. And again. And again.

The third shot's recoil sent him backwards and he fell on one knee, but he didn't remove his eyes from the shadowy storm. The pistol roared again and again, its silvery rays swallowed inside the storm.

Something yelled. Perhaps it was Saul, perhaps it was the wind.

And then it began to dissolve.

Saul remained crouched with the pistol aimed forward long after the last shadowy wisp vanished through the windows.

Then, he slowly shifted the pistol until the barrel was aligned with the elder man's forehead.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're one of them."

"Your distrust is legitimate, Saul Bental."

"No kidding. If you're not one of them, why didn't you intervene?"

"Because she was not aware of me, as I told you. By not taking action, I made them think that I was part of you. She thought you were an easy pray. With my passive assistance.", He gestured at the silver pistol, "You proved her wrong. Luckily, she was weakened… they were weakened. And the host began to gain distance from you. Otherwise, you would be theirs."

"Right.", Saul hissed suspiciously.

The man slanted his eyes. "Despite your distrust, you have seen much. I need you to relay that to your… teammates. One of them sedated you… but I'm going to make your brain resist the sedative chemical agents by secreting… all I'm saying is, hold still and don't resist."

Saul didn't have much choice. If the man was of the KIND, and could take over his body completely as the waitress tried, activating one chemical reaction in Saul's brain would be child's play for him.

Regardless, Saul made no effort to resist whatsoever.

A moment later, as the agonizing pain in his broken jaw exploded and brought tears to his eyes, he wished that he had resisted.

"The Historian and the Idiot"

Lt.JG Cain Forrester
Chief Historian and "Vassal/Slave to The Great Overlord"

Lt. Jack Slen/Rash'dar
Medical officer and "The Great Overlord"

Location: Holodeck 3

"Why are we here again you dolt?"

Rash'dar giggled with glee as he shot another Orion raider. "You must help Rash'dar find the ultimate fun! This is wonderous, Rash'dar can kill kill kill and no one can stop him! And no one useful dies when Rash'dar runs out of stupids! Because the stupids never run out!" He laughed and continued to fire into the holographic crowd. Cain was half tempted to turn off the safety protocol and let Rash'dar be overwhelmed and slaughtered. But then he considered the fact it was still Jack's body. That didn't do much more for the thought, but it would still be considered the murder of a fellow officer, and that wouldn't go over well in the courts. Either way, he needed to find a way to get through this. To escape.

Slen/Rash'dar turned away and Cain saw his chance. ~Distraction.....Distraction....Oh screw it.~

He walked up to Slen and tapped on his shoulder.

The diptharu possesed man turned angrily and Cain shouted his battlecry, the first thing that came out off the top of his head. "KUNAT KALI-FEE!!" and let his bionic left arm slam into Jack's face. He immediately made a grab for the phaser in Jacks hand and they wrestled over it, neither stronger than the other. Finally, it was pointed down... and Fired directly into Cain's foot. The beam went straight through into the floor. "SON OF A BITCH!" Rash'dar gloated for a moment, about to take control again, but Cain quickly recovered and headbutted Jack as hard as he possibly could. The Force of his head impacting Jack's nose cause a crunch as Cain's cranium shattered Dr. Slen's nose. Rash'dar was stunned severely and unable to keep his host conscious. Jack fell onto his rear, followed by his torso and head with a satisfying thud.

Cain, himself heavily disoriented from the impace, staggered to stay on his feet, but regained his equilibrium and nearly shouted "Computer! End Program!"

For a moment - just a moment - he wondered why he said what he said. It didn't matter, with a phaser in hand, and a limp, he started running. There had to be other normies amoung the crew. Now it was time to find them.

"Let's play" (part one)

*takes place during the Schools Out mind-meld posts*

Saia
Sam
Vortas

***

The moment the Vulcan psycopath killed the first person, Saia ran. She had run to a far corner and huddled into it, shutting her eyes tightly and pressing her hands to her ears so hard it hurt. The whole ship seemed to have gone mad and school, as annoying it was, seemed a safe enough place to be.

Until now. Now she wanted to be with Nara, as crazy as she had gotten. More than that, she wanted to be on Trill, even if she couldn't go back to her house. Even if she had to live in a tent. The smell was about the same there as here anyway.

She began to wonder what she had done to deserve so much trauma for existing a mere decade. If the universe was punishing her so harshly, then she had no chance at being a host for a symbiont. She wasn't even sure she'd live to decide if she even wanted to be a host at this point.

But she decided to be a little brave, and Saia turned her head toward the chaos.

****

Sam had ran halfway down the deck when she realized, in one of those annoying flashes of clarity in moments when you really didn't want them, that she had not seen Saia run out of the classroom when Hunter had let the other children go. Her feet were still moving towards the nearest turbolift but Victor Krieghoff's words were echoing in her head and she knew that any child left behind, especially a friend, was now her responsibility.

She came screeching to a halt, cursing in Klingon, and made herself turn around.

****

As she sneaked back in, Samantha avoided looking at Hunter and Krieghoff who were absolutely still. Since she was quicker than most, she decided that they were in a Vulcan mind meld and the last thing she wanted to do was get sucked into that.

"Saia," Samantha hissed at the girl in the corner. "Follow me."

Saia, whose eyes froze on the two most scariest people she was sure she ever met in real life, grabbed Sam's arm, pulling herself up. She had many questions, but she frankly just wanted to get out of there. Sam's command seemed like a mighty fine idea at the moment.

Together, the two slipped out of the silent room and ran down the hall.

"I ran into that kid with the horns on my way back here." Sam said as she ran. "The others are hiding nearby."

The sound of someone approaching, however, blocked their path to the other children. Samantha grunted, grabbed Saia's arm, and pulled her into the first room available.

When they got to their hiding place, Saia went back to huddling into as small a mass as possible, this time, her back to the wall, her arms hugging her legs to herself tightly as she tried not to cry and tremble.

"We should be safe here." Samantha assured her.

"Why...." Was all she could get out before wimpering and burying her head in her knees.

Samantha had always thought that tact was for people not smart enough to be sarcastic. Or intelligent. Arel had taught her that compassion only went so far; you couldn't feel too much compassion for the enemy because they'd just turn around and knife you in the back when you were checking to see if they were okay. Samantha also admired the woman's short temper.

All of this, therefore, conflicted strongly against what she had learned from Branwen and her counselling sessions.

"Snap out of it!" Samantha ordered with a scowl. "We have to find the other children and then a non crazy member of the crew and THEN you can fall to pieces."

Saia looked up and blinked.

"Saia," The girl said sternly. "You're a survivor otherwise you would have died on Trill." And besides no one had used her as a cutting board today. Samantha felt a little tremble go through her but stubbornly pushed it way. "No one is going to hurt us."

Saia nodded and wiped her eyes. She didn't feel any better, and she did react better about the ship crashing on Trill. Yet, then she had known the people for more than a few months and no one had been acting like complete monsters. None she saw anyway. "Where are the others. Where can we go?"

Samantha pointed to the door. "Back out there. Now we have to be quick, are you with me?"

Saia just nodded.

They ran until they were stopped again by the sound of another set of feet. Once more Samantha pulled Saia into the first room that she came across.

They found themselves in a very famailar place. Which suited well as Saia normally felt safe here. The arburetum was different, though. In a way that you couldn't see, but yet chills ran up your spine and your hair stood on end.

Vortas, or rather the Dithparu inhabiting him, had just finished torturing the young mother that he had bound to the trunk of one of the trees and was about to begin the process of invading her mind when he heard the door open in the distance. He heard the sounds of two more young humans entering the room.

"Oooh. More playmates! Yeah! Wait here,I'll be back for you." the Juvinile Dithparu said as it stuffed a wad of cloth into the young womans mouth.

Samantha looked around the arboretum. "Do you think..."

"Maybe. Huh?" Saia thought she caught the unasked question, but then wasn't sure at all.

"I don't like it here." Sam said, starting to turn around. "Common' lets get out..."

She stopped flat when she saw that someone was blocking their exit.

"Well, lookie what we have here! More kiddies that want to play with good ol uncle Vortas. Oh we're going to have so much fun!", the young Vortas Dithparu said grinning.

Saia sighed and looked at the person in front of them, "Are you gonna kill us?"

"Eventually, but first we get to play! Now, why don't the two of you walk over by those others nice and slow and lay down on the ground there or do we have to play rough." Vortas said pointing his phaser at the two kids.

Saia gulped. Nara promised she'd be safe here! Ok, Sam was right. Never trust adults. Had Sam actually ever really said that? Well, it was obvious she thought that. Saia could see why. Saia wished she could be brave and try to do something, but she was too scared. She looked at Sam and whispered, "Um, is there anyway we can not die today?"

Sam looked at the other girl, beginning to wonder the same thing.

"Resistance"

By
Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer
USS Galaxy

*****

Deck 17
Corridor Outside Main Liaison Offices

Not even twenty meters down the corridor to a secondary junction, Curran noticed a peculiarity that wasn't the normal for operations on a starship.

He didn't notice any social interactions amongst them. On his route to whichever destination he'd been on his way to, he'd usually notice various members of the crew standing off to the sides in the corridors, discussing various topics of the day - from warp coil physics, to upcoming concerts in Ten-Forward, to who was dating whom in whatever department. Most of the time, when he caught their eyes, they would cease their discussions, at which point he'd discovered they were either talking about him, or some such incident that he wasn't privy or invited to share his views on.

All that was fine by him; he wasn't here to make friends. Most people on the Galaxy weren't deserving of his prolonged conversation anyhow. Their irritating, warped perception on how the universe should rotate to their views was grating. Thank whatever gods they worshipped nothing ever came of it. It's bad enough the Federation dictates galactic socio-economics, and worse that Earth was a major part of that conundrum. Only by the grace of the Vulcans were the emotional and self-centered views of Terrans tempered, else people would still be grunting and arguing the universe should bend to their will.

Though, none of this even made a mark on Kelvan views, even if they were the same. Kelva had a record of success in dictating their own galactic policy, and it worked. If not for their own sun going radioactive and killing his homeworld, he would have been a successful commander in their military, with his own quadrant to manage. Federation views were plagued with conflict and bureaucracy. What a waste.

At any rate, the corridors were now deprived of chatter. Beings from a variety of worlds passed by, bereft of expression. The Kelvan continued on, barely giving more than a passing glance at the silent automatons.

Entering a turbolift, he found himself surrounded by more doe-eyed crew. He chalked it up to fatigue. Finding the station and area in the state it was in, with no defenses to prevent an incursion was sending the crew into multiple shifts. The Galaxy alone had not left yellow alert, so all personnel were on duty as one shift melted into another.

Calling out his destination, he joined in the silence as people came and went, finally leaving him solitary as he entered the last pair of decks before coming to a stop.

The lift doors did not open.

"Computer, open the doors." The Kelvan had no patience left.

[Request denied. The Main Bridge has been locked out.]

Curran was taken aback. Locked out?

"Over-ride lockout. Authorization Curran, Kylar, Chief Liaison Officer. Comply."

[Authorization declined.]

"Excuse me? I have the highest authorization on board. Open the doors, computer. I do not have time for this."

[The Main Bridge has been locked out by Captain M'Kantu. Only in conjunction with his command authorization may the lockouts be released.]

"Where is Captain M'Kantu? Take me to him."

[Captain M'Kantu is in the brig on Deck 9.] The lift came back to life, and shuttled Curran off to Deck 9.

***

Deck 9
Outside General Crew Quarters
Corridor

The Kelvan felt eyes on him.

Since leaving the turbolift at Deck 9, Curran had noticed the corridors were solemnly empty of any personnel, yet felt the telltale signs of being under surveillance.

He'd had little time to dwell why M'Kantu was visiting the brig while his bridge was under siege, but it mattered little. He was the ship's Chief Liaison officer, and he was obligated to know what was going on within it. Especially if it came to command lockouts, ignored and failing communications, and other oddities on board, including the un-natural behavior of the crew.

He stopped, spinning around to catch the person or persons following him, but saw nothing. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, a rush of adrenaline enter his bloodstream. The sense of something nearby increased.

He wouldn't give into the fear. Fear was a human failing. Kelvans do not fear. They meet head-on and knock it aside. Fear got in the way.

Continuing onward, he approached computer control, and noticed two crewmembers standing outside the bulkhead doors. There was no one else in the vicinity. The curious part of the crewmembers is that they were not the standard guard personnel on one of the key areas of the ship. One wore sciences blue, the other tactical red.

As he passed by them, they met his eyes with equally cold, dull glares. Again, he felt a presence behind him, and by instinct he broke the gaze and again found nobody following.

This didn't go un-noticed by the two officers. The one in sciences blue fell in behind him as he continued on down towards the brig.

The Kelvan rounded an adjoining junction corridor once. The officer followed. He turned another, and again the officer followed. Curran did not alter his pace, but as he rounded another junction, he stopped and waited.

The Efrosian, as predicted, came around the corner. Curran cut him off, falling into a loose stance, but one he could break into a typical Andorian kharakom offense if need be.

"Why are you following me?" The dark-skinned male's eyes had glossed over, but didn't focus on the Kelvan. They had the appearance of drowsiness.

"I'm not following you."

"Yes, you were. What is your destination?"

The Efrosian hesitated, lost in thought. He blinked, the first time Kylar had seen him do so. "I... I don't know." The confusion was only momentary, though, and disappeared almost as fast as it arrived. His response came back strained, but determined. "I was on my way to Stellar Cartography."

"That is a lie. I passed Stellar Cartography before Computer Control." Abruptly, the Efrosian lashed out with one hand, grasping the Kelvan's wrist with a blazing speed. Curran could not react in time.

"Come with me, sir. You are under arrest."

Kylar shook his arm, felt the crush of the alien's grip, and couldn't shake it off.

"On what grounds? I'm a Federation citizen. You cannot arrest me without probable reason and cause. Of that, I am quite aware that I have broken no laws. Now, release me."

Instead of releasing him, though, the Efrosian pushed forward, still holding onto Curran's wrist. Instinctually, Curran fell backward, using the momentum in his favor to roll down backwards, breaking the Efrosian's grip, but pulling him into the motion. He gripped the male's neck in the crook of his elbow and drove it into the floor, then held on to cut off his blood flow.

Releasing the unconscious form, Curran breathed heavily on the rush of the moment, and then rolled up to a standing position, only to face three security officers in place of the Efrosian.

"We have probable cause now, Kelvan. You are under arrest for assaulting a Starfleet Officer." The two flanking officers on the unrecognizable lieutenant came to Curran's sides, one bearing manacles, the other a phaser.

"That officer assaulted me. I was defending myself." He pushed off one of the two - the one with the manacles. In reply, he rammed the manacles into the Kelvan's midriff, forcing him to gasp and double over.

"Careful! The Mistress wants this one unharmed. He's needed for a little while longer yet." He walked over, dropping to a squat, tilting his head as Curran gasped. Saliva drooled to the floor in a puddle. The Lt. looked down mournfully at him. "Please don't try to resist, Kelvan. I don't have control over these two, and we can't have you damaged, because then, you'd have to die." He yanked out the Liaison officer's hands, at which the other guard clamped down the manacles. "And we can't have that. Not yet, anyways." He smiled, flipped his head up and ordered the others to take him to the brig.

What caught Curran's eye was that the Lt. had pointed ears. He was a Vulcan.

"I demand to know what's going on!" He felt strong hands pull him up from under his arms.

"In due time, Kelvan. Let's go." They half-pulled, half-dragged the Liaison Officer on down the corridor, leaving the Efrosian behind.

"The Air Changes"

Lt. (jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
being shared by Dithparus, Oluw & Ioa

***USS Galaxy; Jeffries Tubes***

~There's an aching in the body.~ Ioa complained as she perused Nara's body to crawl toward another control unit.

~Her mind is getting weaker as well.~ Oluw added matter of factly, not really caring.

~Her mind is not my concern. We have enough to go by now. The body is slightly more difficult to control when weak.~

~Are you suggesting we stop?~ Ioa asked sarcastically.

~No, but I would rather not kill her. I hate jumping around bodies. I like to keep one as long as possible. I suggest we find someone to help. Another like us or a thrall. I hadn't enthralled anyone since I stole this body.~ Oluw pouted using Nara's lips as she mind-spoke to her partner.

A moment later, the mouth smiled as the two minds felt a presence nearby. Oluw asked Nara, ~Do you know this one?~

Before Nara could answer, Ioa cut in, ~You should know she doesn't. Have you read her at all? She barely uses her telepathy. She wouldn't know anyone by their mind.~

~Except those she knows well. If these creatures know someone enough, they would know their mind.~ Oluw countered.

~Unless that person wasn't who they let everyone see and they put on a show of sorts.~

Inside, Nara rolled her eyes, ~I don't know who it is.~

The man in front of them stopped and stared at the woman in front of him. Yellow collar. "Security or Engineering?"

"Engineering. What's a handsome thing like you doing here?" Oluw asked using Nara's voice.

Nara would had rolled her eyes. She doesn't do that. 8-Ball would do that, but not her. Heck, that's how she met 8-Ball. The woman actually hit on her. Then Nara realized she never met this man, so the Dithparu knew there was no danger in deviating from her personality.

He blushed slightly, "Well, Something weird was happening in the ventilation and I came to check it out."

"Oh, well that's why I'm up here. Fixing it."

He nodded, "Well, then if you have it covered."

"Would you like to help?"

He looked at her. She was giving him a smile. A smiling woman. Asking for help. A hot, smiling woman asking for help. Heck yea. "Sure. Name's Ensign Jackson Nilson. Siences." He followed her a moment and she looked at him, "Alright. I'm gonna tell you what to do and you'll do it."

He chuckled, "Yes mam!" He suddenly stopped laughing when he felt somethign grab his mind, "Wha...."

"Hush. Just do as I say."

Then she instructed him to change the settings. She also tried searching his mind for more information on what to change. She smiled as she did. "You are more useful then you think."

Then the air got really nasty.

"Last Call"

Ens. Indigo Renkert
Erin Friel
Brian Elessidil

If Indigo Renkert had known that the ship was going to be taken over by her crewmates who had been possessed by evil alien entities, she might have had the forsight to change her hair.

She had always believed that hair, and specifically the styling of hair, was one of the true means of expressing ones self and one couldn't properly run from evil possessed crewmen with straw yellow and purple dredlocks.

8-ball would have thought it was a good analysis of the situation, Indigo thought as she carefully made her way down the halls of the Galaxy. When this was all over, her, 8, and Ella were going to have a VERY long evening drinking several bottles of illegal Romulan ale.

"Don't take another step!" Indigo yelled, gripping her phaser tightly. Someone was up ahead and she wasn't going to take any chances.

Stopping at the sound of the voice that seemed to suddenly appear behind her from nowhere, Erin Friel exhaled sharply. People were getting so completely weird around here that she didn't know how to react anymore. After dealing with several rounds of crazy people coming in and out she finally decided enough was enough and closed Ten-Forward until things got normal again. From what she could surmise, the captain and the rest of the senior officers were in no better shape than anyone else; they could sue her later if they wished.

"I'm not going anywhere." she replied in a tone that sounded distinctly annoyed rather than intimidated.

"Erin?" Indy asked, approaching the figure of the woman carefully. She'd been introduced to the woman once or twice, mostly when she was trying to get some of the good stuff. She never thought she'd be so happy to see a bartender. "Is it you?"

Erin ventured a slow look over her shoulder at hearing her would-be assailant se her first name. She recognized the face -- well, the hair anyway --immediately, though she was a little slower to recall the name that went with it. "Ensign . . . Renkert?" Erin carefully turned to face the other woman, still a little uncertain whether she was one of the "normal" ones or not. "You don't usually go around stopping random people in the corridors at phaser point, do you?" she asked, eyeing the weapon.

Indigo laughed but it was a little strained. "Yeah, well, after nearly getting used as target practice, twice, I've become precautious. Do you know what's happening?"

Still somewhat on her guard regarding exactly who -- or what -- she was dealing with, Erin studied Indigo warily. "No . . . not exactly. You, uh, haven't been over to the station, have you?"

~'Cause if you have, this conversation is going to be really short,~ she thought to herself.

Indy shook her head. "I was just working in my department when a bunch of guys started shooting the place up. There was another ensign awhile back who said that all the Vulcans were possessed but then he got shot." Indigo let out her breath in a big whoosh and relaxed somewhat. Erin didn't look like she was going to go psycho.

Erin, too, relaxed from her wary stance. "Shot? Is he . . .?"

"Yeah." Indigo sighed.

"This is so . . . strange," Erin said, slowly shaking her head. "Whatever's causing this, it's coming from that station, it's gotta be. Some guy, one of the marines, Deltan, stopped by to flirt and have a drink just before he was going over. When he got back, he marches into Ten Forward demanding that everyone in the room surrender to him. It took three security officers to bring him down. That's when I decided it was last call for everyone and closed the place down. I don't know who to trust around here anymore; it seems everyone I've run into so far is either on some megalomaniac trip or walking around like a zombie. You're the first normal person I've seen since the security officers that hauled off the crazy Deltan."

"You're the first person I've seen in awhile too." Indy admitted. "But there have to be more, right?" She hoped that there was. She didn't think she was up for a round of Indigo Renkert saves the Federation.

"Well, the ship still appears to be in one piece," Erin said, glancing at the corridor around them. "I guess there's some good news somewhere in that."

"Should we try to find someone else?"

"No need, Ensign," responded a calm male voice from behind Renkert. "Looks like I managed to find you first," the Elessidil Dithparu stated, the counselor's confident and personable demeanor carrying every word. It smiled slightly to bolster the appearance.

Indigo started but then relaxed. This was another face she vaguely knew and it wasn't filled with the mallicious glee she'd seen in the others.

"There are only a few of us left of the crew who haven't been taken over by whatever it is we're facing. I've been trying to find as many of the crew as possible; you're the first I've found." Beneath the concerned but friendly Betazoid facade, It reveled in anticipation. "My idea was to get as many as possible in one place to offer protection in numbers and to present a unified team in the event that some kind of defensive action is required. I haven't yet determined where the best place would be."

Erin looked at the counselor intently, already convinced he was okay and buying into It's plan accordingly."How about Ten-Forward?" she suggested."It's fairly large and at the moment it's closed down, so there shouldn't be anything, or anyone, or any whatever it is there."

"Hm . . . Ten-Forward," It replied, referencing the location in Its host's brain."I think that might work. We'll probably need to gather more weapons eventually, though. I managed to get a phaser off one of the effected crew after a little scuffle," he said, producing the aforementioned weapon."With yours, Ensign, that only gives us two; hardly a significant arsenal if we need to fend off any kind of attack."

"If we could get to the Armory we'd have more." Indigo said doubtfully. "But I'd rather wait it out in Ten Forward."

From behind the counselor's dark eyes, It considered Renkert's reply. No doubt the corporeals would by now have their armory heavily guarded. "You have a point. We'll just have to hope that we can get other armed crew members in with us."

"I keep a phaser tucked away for emergencies," Erin piped up. Noting the others' expressions of mild surprise, she added as if speaking the obvious, "it's a bar -- things can get . . . boisterous."

Elessidil grinned. "Good, then at least we'll each have a weapon. Why don't we head that way and see if we can pick up anyone else along the way."

****

They were only able to find two more survivors of the away team lunatics. Indigo sighed as they approached Ten Forward and then swatted a purple strand of hair out of her face as the other hand relaxed slightly on her phaser. It would be safer with the crazies on the outside and the five of them on the inside.

Indy hoped that Erin had some Romulan ale stashed away. She might just drink the whole bottle.

Really, this was almost too easy, the Elessidil Dithparu thought to Itself.

"Wait here a moment," It instructed the others, pretending to sense the presence of others somewhere outside the door. "I'm going to see who's coming. Erin, leave your phaser hidden away; if our phasers are taken from us we may need to retrieve it." Carefully tucking away Its own phaser, It exited the room, ostensibly as nothing more sinister than the Assistant Chief Counselor just coming back from a bit of refreshment.

There *were* others outside Ten Forward, but it was no accident. Three Vulcans, each hosting their own Dithparu, had been summoned telepathically by the counselor.

~There are four inside,~ It sent to its kind, ~a thrall for each of you and one other. The female with the purple hair is the only one with a weapon. Leave her for me; I will deal with her myself. Come.~

Returning to Ten Forward with the Vulcans in tow, It addressed the others. "It's alright, they're with me." It was no lie. Before Erin or the other two officers could even respond, the Vulcans raised their phasers and stunned the three soon-to-be thralls. At the same time, the Elessidil Dithparu fired on Renkert before she was able to reach for her weapon. But Its phaser was set to kill.

It's only regret was having to waste a potential thrall.

(OOC note - I am soooooo sorry to everyone, this is so late and there are another two parts to follow. Work has been hectic for me and also had a huge writers block and haven’t been able to move past it. I’ll be back with it by November really sorry to all. The rest will follow when it’s written. Sorry again.)

“Searching through the static” Part Two

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe - Engineer
Lieutenant (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell - Engineer
Turan Trelar Quentite Ambassador – Engineer trainee, under supervision of Lt Eshe
Lieutenant Michael Jamson - Operations Officer

(This is set directly after the Engineering department JP “Scooby Gang”)

"As for your plan, I believe that this type of radiation that causes all the problems to the sensors and front pallets could be emitting from some type of Delta rays, as they weaken certain types of metal in extreme situations. That's why the pellets situated on the hull could have been effected" Michael grabbed his chin gently.

"Delta Radiation?" Turan asked.

"It's rather old...22nd century, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. Modern shields should protect us from it. Delta radiation is actually a particle radiation comprised of electrons emitted when ionising radiation passes through matter. *But*, on the other hand, this would cause serious injuries and illness among the crew members. And since we're on yellow alert, shields should have blocked it by now, so we should rule this one out".

Nara was irritated at the new comers. Too many freakin people! But there was work to be done. "No. Not ruled out. Just moved down on the list of options."

Michael moved on, "Don't be mistaken...we are definitely facing some sort of ionising radiation, but only as an added effect. Ionising radiation from Ion storms, for example, is the number one cause of sensor interference".

"Oh really?" Nara asked sarcastically, never once looking up.

Dhani tried not to show her irritation at Nara. Nodding she turned away from Jamson, staring at the deck as she leaned on the consol behind her, “What about a another type of radiation?” she asked.

"Theta radiation is also a good candidate" Jamson suggested another option.

"Such radiation which is used by Malons in the Delta quadrant?" The Quentite Ambassador added.

"Exactly..." Jamson agreed and elaborated , "Not only that contaminated antimatter by-products cause Theta radiation, thus, endangering humanoids health, this type of radiation is also known to block sensors and scans".

“True,” Dhani replied, she was listening intently to the man before her as he hypothesised and then logically removed his hypothesis from the discussion. She wondered; if she let this man talk for long enough if he could solve all the problems of the galaxy this way! “But then if that were the case the computer would have picked it up and warned us that the radiation was there.” She said shifting against the wall.

"Yes.” he replied “And the bio filters on every standard transporter should be able to filter Theta radiation" Michael summarized.

Dhani rapped her fingernails against the console . Her mind had already been through several of these options. And although she would love nothing more than to get to the bottom of what was causing the interference, something told her that it wouldn’t help in breaking through it.

"Another possibility would be polaric radiation. Again, polaric particles block scans" Jamson offered another alternative.

Nara rolled her eyes. Too many people; too much talk. She sighed heavily as she saw the newest results. She almost growled out, “Some of the pallets were not affected, they must be triple redundant; two on, one off. Those aren't exactly blind, because they are constantly changing; SOP rotation." She looked at Turan and narrowed her eyes seeing his confused look and explained in a very irritated tone; just so not to hear Dhani's voice explain it, "Whatever is blocking the sensors is actually doing more. It's actually 'blinding' the sensors by bombarding it with radiation or something similar; we need to figure out what.”

"None of these readings are clear, but at least we're getting something. We're not totally blind as we thought we were" Jamson remarked.

"Yes...SOP rotation happens all the time. It actually never stops, unless we need a 'blackout'. It's a good thing you've noticed it lieutenant" Michael looked at the screen of the Ops console in the science station.

Nara grunted disinterested in his compliment.

"Should I check those sensors once more?" asked Turan.

Dhani nodded.

Although there wasn't anything Quentite-like in her, the woman’s camouflaged neck and temple somehow looked familiar to him.

Something deep in the hormone drive part of the Quentite boy's brain tried to take over control. The woman’s head was picture-manipulated to a naked Quentite body. Obviously, the difference in colour and size was too much to play a role in a serious day dream, so the brain replaced the Quentite body with a female Trill one - of course naked like the first. This one met the head much better in colour and size. The large pair of breasts, nevertheless - a feature unknown to a non suckling Quentite, should have given the neuronal working part of the brain a clue; Turan was drifting away into semi-consciousness!

"Do it!" ordered Dhani.

There was a voice coming from far, far away - a distorted female voice ... "Dooooooo Iiiiiiit!". Instantly, the brain' neuronal driven part regained control.

"Ergh ... yes ma'an!" replied Turan. His fingers searched the Galaxy's schematics for hints about sensor arrays. Long Quentite fingers touched the outline of the displayed saucer part which made the display offer a four topic menu contain the objects; hull integrity, shield coils, phaser arrays, short range sensors.

Turan choose 'short range sensors' followed by the subtopic 'diagnosis'. Six green dots changed to yellow - accompanied by the flashing word 'wait' After about five seconds, the yellow changed back to green.

"There doesn't seem to be any problem with the sensors. They are reported to work within their specifications." reported the Quentite wannabe engineer. "Nevertheless ..." saying so, Turan brought the sensors back online and the sensor screen changed to the familiar white noise static "... as we can see, we can see nothing ... you see?"

Dhani looked over his shoulder and nodded at the read out.

"This isn't working...we need to think of something else" Michael started to feel frustrated. Something was turning the sensors, the precious 24th century technologically advanced sensors into useless pieces of machinery. The ship was blind as a bat, but just like a bat, it could still hear 'sounds'. It was up to the team to translate it into something useful.

Dhani sighed this was getting them nowhere. She stood up and stared once more at the read out on Nara’s screen and sighed. Placing a hand on her hip she rubbed her temple, she was beginning to get a headache form this.

“What about the long range sensors?” Lt. Roswell asked.

"What do you mean?" Turan asked.

"You said we need more sensors....what about the long range sensors???" Nara asked.

"Long range sensors are mostly in use when the ship is in cruising through warp speed. When travelling to sub light speed, the majority of these sensors are being shut down, and power is diverted to short range sensors".

"So, you want to use long range sensors?" Michael asked.

"Why not?" Roswell snapped. "It's better than standing around chatting all day!"

"It is possible" Jamson concurred. "Has anyone here ever heard of the huge array of telescopic radios?"

No one answered.

"Back on Earth, on the 20th and 21st century, Scientists used a large array of telescopic radios to detect EM radiation from billions of light years away. The power, versatility and range of radio telescopes were determined by their size and numbers. An array of radio telescopes worked as one. At the year of 2009, the Space Interferometry Mission was an orbiting interferometer that linked a pair of telescopes to function in unison as a much larger, one, virtual telescope. The goal was to detect various sized of planets nearby Earth, larger than Jupiter. This led to a new technology, called precision astrophysics; that eventually was able to determine the exact positions and distances of planets to Earth. This helped Astronomers to make new discoveries and eventually draw a map of the Milky Way galaxy, including several galaxies around" Michael explained. "This is similar to what we have here, we'll modify the existing non operating long range sensors into short range ones and use them to our advantage, as a huge array".

Dhani turned round to face Jamson, “To do that we need to cancel the warp to sub light ion deceleration detector.”

“In addition to what you've mentioned, we'll have to disable the warp activity detector and the threat analysis pre-processor; that is filtering the through strategic and tactical processors. Oh and also perform a standard risk-versus-gain assessment which is a must!” Jamson said.

Dhani nodded, “We will also have to increase the EPS performance, as this is going to need a power boost. And increase the low frequency subspace seismicity sensor.” Dhani began to gather up her things.

"Fascinating..." Turan remarked.

"Can we just get to it? Stories of a Century long past and contemplating isn't helping and time isn't stopping, waiting for us." Nara spoke flatly before turning to try to make some said adjustments.

"If we want to use the long range sensors as short range ones, we have to cancel some systems in order for the long range sensors to work. You see these systems work when we are at warp. In order for them to work while at impulse we have to cancel things like; the warp to sub light ion dece' detector. You don't need it, since you're already at sub light speed you’re basically turning the long range sensors into short range ones. Naturally, if you want more sensors, you need more power. So more is required from the EPS power distribution system you’ll have to do some of it from engineering”

Jamson scratched his chin, “There are small esp. powered force field generators that are minimizing sensor blinding and physical destruction. We will have to deploy some more and increase its strength. Not all of these modifications can be done from the bridge, we need someone to get down to Engineering" Jamson said.

“I know.” Dhani replied, “Roswell you stay here with Turan and begin the modifications. Lieutenant,” Dhani said turning to Jamson “You’re with me.”

Nara looked at Dhani and scowled, "Who made you Ms. Boss woman?"

~Because I outrank you!~ was the first thing that came to Dhanis mind, but she had already noted that they were in fact the same rank… and that infuriated her more than she liked. Visibly biting her tongue, to the point where she could taste her own blood, and feel it coursing down her throat, she answered through tight lips, her dark green eyes boring holes into Roswell, “Because you are incapable!” she hissed.

The tension between these two was clear, to everyone present on the bridge. It was almost impossible not to notice it. Jamson felt a bit uneased at first, but since he didn't know any of them, he decided to keep his mouth shut. Only in the event of personal bickering, that would interfere with their assignment, he would step forward and give his piece mind on what was going on. Personal emotions should be put aside when such important tasks were ahead. There was no time for useless quarrels.

Dhani turned sharply, quickly leading the way back to the turbo lift. Getting away for Nara just for a moment was going to be a relief. The woman was infuriating. She did feel a little bit guilty at leaving Turan with the ‘bitch from hell’ but then at this point in time she was glad to be away from him too, she didn’t want to take out her irritation over Nara on Turan.

Though Dhani knew well that Turan wouldn’t mind her snapping at him, in fact he would encourage it if it meant she got her frustrations out and made her calmer. But this wasn’t her Turan, this was a child before her. One that hadn’t matured as quickly as the one she had known. This one was spoiled by all the comforts that Starfleet provided. He hadn’t toiled the land with his bare hands. He hadn’t stayed up countless nights starving hungry, he hadn’t weathered the storms and survived the droughts. This Turan was still a child. And in retrospect Dhani wasn’t changed much either. She could remember everything of what had happened but it hadn’t changed her life style once she was back on the ship. She still ate replicated food and slept in a comfortable bed and played in holo suites!

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