"Dickhead"

Perhaps the oddest possession post yet!

Starring the man, the myth the legend himself. The intergalactic love makin' machine, son of a Q, former Jedi and current Ambassador to Starfleet itself - Leo Streeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeely!!

Also appearing are Dr. Johan Constantino sexual exorcist, Breanna and Julianna: The Nipple Clip twins from the medical department, and Jobas the malevolent but mentally handicapped Dithparu!

(OOC NOTE: As you can probably tell at this point, Ol' Joe is whipping out a traditional Leo Streely post. Some of you youngsters weren't around when I was writing whatever came to mind, so I better give you a little heads up. If you are offended by crude sexual jokes, graphic situations, lesbianism, bondage, crass language, S&M, jokes about mentally retarded evil spirits or Leo's penis - I highly recommend that you skip not only this post but any other post that has or will have Leo in it in the future.)

Location: Ambassador Streely's love nest, Ambassadorial Wing, USS GALAXY
Time: Somewhere in the mix of the current plotline.

Soundtrack: "Oops, I Did It Again! (5 Fingered Love Remix)" by Rubb Solo

*** Just Beyond ***

It has been said that in the cold icy blackness of space, nobody can hear a scream.

On this very night, when ghosts and spirits reign, three people on the Federation's ship of the line, were sleeping like newborns dreaming of sugarplums and fairies or whatever the lumpy fleshlings fill their skulls with, blissfully unaware of the evil that loomed so close.

Evil, however was keenly aware! Keenly aware that they were on the precipice, the cusp if you will, of victory.

Skrack and Nudge, two of the Dithparu's finest along with their faithful sidekick Jobas, glared at the three sleeping forms with cruel intentions.

The three "Others" had come aboard when the rest of their kind fled the space station DS5, that had served as their prison and slithered unknowingly into the USS GALAXY. The phantasms silently glided through the gleaming starship, undetected by man or machine, invading the frail minds of the unsuspecting crewmen that they encountered along the way.

The two elder 'Others' could be ....

"MUST YOU NARRATE EVERYTHING, YOU SON OF A PISS DRUNK NARK?!" Skrack hissed in his typical ornery manner.

Nudge shrugged, or would have shrugged had he been in possession of a crewman's body.

"PRECIPICE AND CUSP MY ASS. OH, THAT REMINDS ME. I DON'T HAVE AN ASS. AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO IS NOT OK WITH THIS?"

"Ahhuh guys, why am I always the side kick?" Jobas asked.

"CAUSE YOUR A MORON. THAT'S WHY. AND JUST BECAUSE YOUR THE BOSSES NEPHEW. TELL HIM NUDGE!"

They crept towards the unsuspecting mucus bags, icy tendrils of inky blackness, pulling back the veil that separated the two worlds...

"IF I HAD EARS, I WOULD CUT THEM OFF RIGHT NOW TO SPARE MYSELF THIS DRIVEL!" Skrack said, then turned his attention to Jobas. "WILL YOU GET OVER THERE AND GRAB YOURSELF A BODY SO WE CAN GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD. YOUR UNCLE SAID TO GIVE YOU FIRST PICK, BUT WE AIN'T GONNA WAIT FOREVER! AINT THAT RIGHT NUDGE? NUDGE? NUDGE LEAVE THAT WOMAN ALONE!! I DON'T CARE HOW BIG IT IS. YES, I'M SURE SHE CAN REMOVE IT!!! JOBAS, GET IN SOMEONE'S HEAD!!! NOW!!

*** Not Beyond ***

Leo Streely awoke with a heel in his testicles.

It was not his own heel. Despite what he claims when talking to women in the Ten Forward, Leo is not quite that flexible. It was the heel of one of his two playmates, the infamous 'Nipple Clip Twins'. The twins had an underground reputation on the ship for being two of the more promiscuous people in uniform and naturally it was only a matter of time before Leo took advantage of the opportunity to see for himself.

Wrestling around on the ambassador sized bed, Leo had found out that the twins were as physical as advertised. The three had all fallen asleep in a tangled mass of arms and legs and when they began tossing and turning in the middle of the night, Julianna's heel shot out into the self proclaimed Big Hoss's nether regions sending a wave of nausea through the little man.

He rolled on the floor, coughing loudly with his eyes crossed and holding his jewels.

Breanna stretched lazily like a cat and flopped her head coyly over the side of the bed.

"Now that you woke me, Ambassador, it's your duty to tire me out again." she purred, curling a lock of her red hair around her finger.

"GASP...PANT..lemmie go...URK...BATHROOM...!" Leo gasped, grabbing fistfulls of the plush, orange, shag carpeting to drag himself toward the bathroom.

"Hurry back. I wanna try something naughty." Breanna said as she rolled over and tugged on the thin gold chain looped around Julianna's nipples, waking the woman.

Leo barely caught a glimpse of Julianna burying her head in the other woman's lap when the door to the bathroom closed. His first instinct was to reach for his pants pockets for more tokens, then realizing he was in his bathroom not in a Rigilian peep show, he dragged himself up and rinsed his face with water in the sink.

"You wanna try something, ya little nymphet, try not to bruise the nads!" he said, cupping his nuts gingerly as if to feel if they were broken. "How do ya expect Round 7 if I'm unable to perform"

His head also hurt slightly, but he assumed it was from having his hair pulled.

He looked in the mirror and smiled a wide, toothy leer.

"Gaze upon my sexual magnificence and tremble! For I am Leo! King of Kings!" he bellowed, puffing up his chest and tilting his head to look up his nostrils. He pointed at his image. "You're the man! No YOU are the man!" he said as he moved over to the toilet and yanked himself out of his boxer shorts, shorts that bore the image of Captain Darren M'Kantu on the backside beneath the phrase 'What would M'Kantu Do?'.

"GOOD GOD LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THIS THING!" he yelled. "LADIES, YOU BETTER BE READY!"

"Ah c'mon, I'm not that big."

Leo froze. The urge to urinate suddenly vanished. "Who said that?" he asked, looking into the Jacuzzi and then behind the mirror on the medicine cabinet.

"I did."

"Who the hell is I?" Leo asked, looking behind his thick bathrobe hung on a hook nearby and then peeking under the twins wadded up thongs.

"Me! Down here, buddy!"

Leo looked down at the tile floor and saw nothing. He then glanced down to see 'little Leo' at full attention, staring back up at him.

"Hi there!" his penis said quite politely, the hole opening and closing like a mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. I AM EVIL INCARNATE! KILL! KILL! KILL! PUNY PINK SKIN!!!"

Leo screamed and grabbed his member. He wrestled himself to the ground, crashing into the vanity, knocking over the bottles of bubble bath and Hi-Karate cologne, bellowing for help as his penis choked out profanities.

The bathroom door whisked open and the Nipple Clip twins burst in wielding large rubber phalluses menacingly. Taking in the scene before them, they looked at Leo with puzzled expressions on their faces.

"HELP! MY PENIS IS POSSESSED!!!" Leo screamed. "Get Raven! Get Somebody!"

Breanna and Julianna smiled slyly at each other.

"Then why don't we just see if we can't get the evil spirit right out of there!"

*** Later, still in the Ambassador's cabin ***

Johan Constantino strolled down the hallway of the ambassadorial wing towards the cabin of Leo Streely with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

He strolled as if in slow motion past Julianna, who was mesmerized, a finger running across her moist lips while her other hand covered her bare breasts.

Breanna met him at the doorway to Leo's apartment.

"I think I found you a good one. I called you as soon as we realized that his penis was indeed possessed. The little fucker was whistling merrily when it was in my....well, never mind that."

Constantino didn't say anything. He walked past the gathered security officers and inside the cabin where Leo was bound, spread eagle to the bedposts of the huge bed.

"Hey pal. I donno what kinda sick shit your up to, but I don't have time for this. My penis is possessed. Would you go find..hey, you know what? You look just like that kid from the Matrix. Christopher Reeves."

Johan immediately called for the lights in the room to full power. Leo squinted his eyes.

His penis however, wilted.

Leo glanced over at the Nipple clip twins. "Ladies, please. You gotta understand. I'm tied to the bed with Neo here examining my log. It's gonna be tough to keep things at full attention, if ya catch my drift."

His penis growled.

Constantino pulled out a keychain and began sorting through the obscene little medallions that were hanging from it. When he finally made his choice, he stood atop the bed and straddled Leo's legs.

Leo's penis practically shrank into nonexistence as it hissed.

"YOU SICK FUCK! GET THE HELL OFF ME! SECURITY!!! SECURITY ARREST THIS FRUITCAKE BEFORE I GET UP OFF THIS BED AND WHIP SOME ASS!!!!" Leo bellowed.

Constantine leaned towards Leo's member and whispered.

"This is Constantino. Johan Constantino, asshole."

Streely shrieked like a schoolgirl.

Constantino pressed the medallion against Leo's log. The Dithparu-posessed penis screamed angrily as Leo's body shook violently. Finally the tremors stopped. Leo's member fell limp as he himself passed out. The exorcist leaned foreword and placed an ear near Leo's "little Leo".

The possessed penis leapt to life, screaming again. Constantino instinctively punched the little worm. temporarily knocking it out. He turned to security.

"I need a mirror!" he said.

Just beyond the perception of the humans, the Dithparu Skrack franticly ordered Jobas to leave his host.

A tall security officer offered a large sterling silver plug. Constantino frowned when he looked at the apparatus.

"It's all she had in her. I mean..on her." the guard said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the Nipple Clip twins giggled in the far corner. Constantino told him to hold it over Leo's groin and warned everyone not to look. He muttered an incantation and Leo's penis sprung once more to life as Jobas twisted in the man's grasp. Finally the Other released it's hold on Leo's body part.

The plug began to vibrate and Constantino grabbed it from the security guard. He stumbled as he raced to the replicator refuse bin and dropped the whirring toy into the receptacle, then hit purge.

"You asshole. Those things arn't easy to come by, you know!" Julianna spat.

Constantino ignored her. He silently walked out of the room, his job done. Security moved to untie Leo, but the Breanna stood in thier way. She glanced down at Leo, still tied to the bed. "Let's not waste a good thing, here hmmm?"

A huge grin split Leo's face.

"EVERYBODY OUT!!" Leo ordered. "Except you two." Leo said from captivity.

Somewhere, a dimension away, an Other was being called an idiot.

"The Death Dealer"

Principle Characters

Lt. Commander James Corgan
Lt. T'lan/Azuul the Diparthu
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 10
En Route To Computer Core

The hallways of the ship had an eerie, ghost filled presence to them, a thick oppressive atmosphere that felt sentient and assaulting. The red lights of the red alert flashers and the muted, half dead light bulb glow tired the eyes then woke them, tired them, woke them, filling the head with an urge to close one's eyes and wish for darkness. There was a slight chill, the environmental systems running at just enough temperature to leave the vast varieties of humanoids onboard comfortable but not overtly so. The shuffle of footsteps of armed patrols.

One of the only few well organized fronts on the ship was making slow progress to the computer core. The forward scout constantly halted, swept halls while their phaser rifles waved left and right, then waved over another to advance a few meters forward, watch his partner do the same, advance with steady purposeful footfalls, and repeat the process over and over. It was a cautious tactical advance, but a slow one.

James Corgan learned the tactic watching old records of law enforcement personnel and special forces. It was amazing what tactical knowledge was lost during times of peace. If he wasn't under the domination of Mistress, he would be proud of the ensign he was paired up with as they acted as forward scouts, keeping a facade of security for the rest; an Admiral, a Commander, and a half dozen more 'loyal' guards.

That, and one Vulcan puppetmistress, keeping a step ahead to monitor their progress and keep track of her enthralled. James felt her nearby, watching him with a scrutinous eye more than ever. He came close to slipping her leash more than once. T'lan was determined not to let it happen again.

The first alert came on his combadge. As the security chief, he still had a deception to maintain, but was a man of authority as far as the mundanes not yet taken by Dithparu were concerned. He took the message with anxiety.

=/\="Lieutenant Marsh to Commander Corgan."=/\= Crackled quietly his badge, the voice of Lieutenant Marsh strained to near breaking points, =/\="Sir, there are reports of gunfire on the ship. Tetryon-based weaponry. It's not under control of the security lockout, and difficult to pinpoint on scans. We are going to engage."=/\=

A bubble of hope rose to the surface. Somebody still resisted!

=/\="No."=/\= Said the sultry, low whisper of Mistress T'lan, quashing James' hope. As the real taskmistress of the group, she had access to James communication channel. What he heard, she heard too. =/\="Investigate. Try to find his location. Then wait for myself and the commander to come help you. James, meet me at the turbolift... have the group continue on, but slowly."=/\=

"Aye." James whispered under his lapel. He hand halted the group, everyone came to a stop. He then whispered to Mika, looking out of place as she held her rifle like an untrained irregular, "Keep them moving, but slowly. Avoid anyone but us."

"Yes." She hissed back, taking her place at the lead of the group.

James excused himself politely. As the group went one way down a t-intersection, James took the other, keeping quiet and low the whole way. He meet T'lan at the turbolift, as they had promised. As he had dreaded.

She looked happy in the red alert lighting, her deviled eyebrows and ears sharper now in her sinister form, her arms crossed and her heels high like a vamp. Mistress T'lan had no weapon, and no need for such. She was armed with Vulcan strength, a Vulcan mind, Vulcan psionics and the shrewd manipulations and cruelty of a Dithparu. The human approaching her wasn't even close to her potential.

She spoke, velveteen and museful, "You know who is coming, right?"

Corgan held his tongue, until he felt the invasive oily pitch in his stomach begin to turn. He knew very well who it was. There was only one man with a tetryon weapon onboard the Galaxy. It was the only man he felt was a real threat, one that wouldn't hold back under any circumstance, and was intelligent enough to not use blind, furious attacks on the Dithparu. "Krieghoff..." He uttered, the sickness in his stomach roiling away.

"Yes." Smirked Mistress, contented with her answer. She cradled an arm around Corgan's neck, tickled by the rising, bristly hairs in the back. Mistress enjoyed these sensations! Warmth, feeling, sweat, fear manifested in physical reactions, something incorporeals didn't know but were afraid to admit... they enjoyed very much.

She had to recompose herself. Controlling the thralls wasn't easy, even with Azuul. She was a lone Dithparu, the only one not consumed by immediate pleasures to do what was right. "You almost disobeyed me, Commander. This time I will come with you. You are the only one that can kill Krieghoff... not I nor anyone else. Just you, and I cannot have you disobey me when you do this. Do you understand?"

Corgan shot a hateful glare at T'lan. Bemusedly, she ignored the spiteful look. "You do not need as much prodding as with the marine. The marine meant nothing to you. Krieghoff however does. He is a friend, but more than that a rival. He is the one with the reputation that used to be yours, remember? Do ou want that reputation back? Do you want to be known as the most dangerous an on this ship? Don't you want to humble him down some more, make him fear something for the first time? Come, James, tell me what you want.."

James uttered, under pain, "I must stop him. He'll kill like that other marine, but only I can do it."

"That's right." She lovingly stroked Corgan's blonde hair, "Whatever helps you get the job done. We can find him and be back at the computer core soon enough. Let us go."

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 10
Photon Torpedo Magazine

Victor checked his handiwork and nodded once. If a real professional came to disarm his work, then they'd be able to undo his cross-wiring in minutes - he never had gotten around to taking the demolitions course he'd had in his training queue for months now. As it was, he thought that his handiwork would go unnoticed as long as no one checked each torpedo casing, or scanned the room for traces of his presence and noticed that he'd spent too much time in one position. He might not be able to fire the phasers he'd taken from the personnel at the Brig a deck above him, but he could make them overload - and if all ten of them went off in here, next to the torpedo he'd tinkered with, they'd set it off, which would cause a chain reaction detonation in the magazine and....

...It wouldn't destroy the entire ship, he was sure of that - but it would render it unusable as a transport, and that was what he was after. The fact that it would kill most of the personnel in the Primary Hull was bad, but if it was necessary to stop the spread of the parasites and their mind-controlled minions, then he'd do it. They were his after all, his to protect, his to avenge. and his to slay, if necessary.

He double-checked the tricorder and the settings he'd locked in. Just like he'd done when the renegade Klingon General, Kragg, was killing crewmen aboard ship, he'd set it to monitor his vital signs and the distance it was from him and send a signal if they'd changed. Only this time it didn't send an alert and broadcast his location and a scan of the events leading to his vital signs cessation. Instead, if he died - or was separated from the tricorder by enough distance - it would broadcast a signal to the phasers here, in the magazine, and start them on their countdown to overload. A few short minutes after that....

....Armageddon - or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

Satisfied, Victor clipped the tricorder to his belt and checked the charge on his weapons. His old-style Phaser 1 was still at full - he hadn't used it yet - but the compressed tetryon beam pistol was down over half. He'd need to recharge it soon, but not here. He didn't want the power drain traced to the magazine. It was bad enough that he'd left a trail of unconscious personnel locked in closets and storage compartments across Decks Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten - he didn't want anyone looking at his stop off here too closely.

That would spoil the surprise, after all.

He hadn't encountered anyone he considered a threat yet, but there were a few he'd rather avoid if he could. Marsh from Security for one, some of the Marines he'd seen training while working out, a few others. He'd have to take them out on principle if they met, just on the chance that they were mind-slaved to T'lan or another infected host, and there was always a chance - as the medic had proved on DS5 - that he would be taken out. He couldn't risk that, not until he'd met up with Corgan and done what he had to do.

A quick check of the corridor and he slipped out into the darkened ship like a ghost, a shadow moving in the darkness, as empty and dark inside as the ebon vastness outside the hull.

A minute passed, then another, and a timer clicked over in the Brig a deck above the Torpedo Magazine, a pre-recorded message bouncing from the discarded communicator he'd left there to three selected combadges: Lt. O'Rourke's, T'lan's, and James Corgan's, his words a soft, quiet knife of fear aimed at the three listener's hearts.

=/\= "Krieghoff to O'Rourke. I don't know if you're one of the possessed personnel or not, O'Rourke, but either way a promise is still a promise. I said I'd tell you beforehand, so this is notification. I'm going to have to kill the Commander now." =/\=

"Is that a fact?" Said a not so amused, highly offended Commander.

Intensely peeved, Commander Corgan trained his phaser pistol on the Lieutenant, his iron sights, phasic chamber compensators, and eyeball agreeing that one trigger press would completely ignore Victor Krieghoff's fleshy head and bore a fist sized hole through three sets of duranium sheeted deck plating. He had the wintery look of his killer's instinct; unlike the encounter with Baile, he knew there was no chance of being gentle, no way to hold back. He stared like a dozen other battles before now, the stare that saw battalions of Jem'Hadar shock troopers charge down a corpse strewn trench system, eyes that saw the stars explode and a planet rush towards them at breakneck speed, eyes that witness a Borg take away the innocence of his youth at Sector 001. It was the hard eyes needed for a man who had to temporarily shut it all out... or break.

He was death, and for a moment the aura of his cold anger eclipsed Krieghoff's natural presence. Mistress T'lan, watching the spectacle on the arm of a robotic photon torpedo hoist, felt the twinge of fear unfamiliar both to herself and her unemotional host. A moment of fear, then a revelation. ~"I control this death dealer..."~ She delighted in the knowledge, loving the sense of control over not a man, but an element that was so dangerous and hard to control. He was hers. All hers. Her knight, champion, weapon... protector.

She was going to aim her weapon at this upstart.

"Hey..." Corgan grumbled, a frosty stare looking down his enemy with mild contempt, void of the fear that kept his relationship with Victor cordial, "Do you think I wouldn't know what you would do? I knew I had to bring you down sometime. I didn't think it would involve you taking the ship hostage."

"Awakening" - Part III

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Lieutenant J.G. Tarin Iniara, Operations Chief
Ensign Artim, Medical Officer
Lieutenant J.G. Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer (Inhabited)

NPC's:
Rena Lanford (Inhabited),
Medical Officer (Ian)

Taru,
Awakened Telepath

*****

Jeffries Tubes

Nara felt her captor's sudden change. They sensed something. Their thrall sat, looking at them, waiting for the next command.

But none came.

Without a word to the young man and leaving him there, they used Nara's body to crawl down the tube toward the exit where they emerged onto the ground of the current deck they occupied.

They just knew one thing.

They had to get to the station.

How was another question.

There was no question, however, that anything dare not interfere.

*****

Deep Space 5

The shuttle docked and the two Dithparu, using Nara's body, walked toward the sickbay. Their thoughts were a mingled chaos of lust after a certain body. Lust of that body's power. Willing to do anything, including lose its current host, to obtain that body.

*****

Deck 9

In a darkened room on the starboard side of Deck Nine, Iniara suddenly bolted upright. She stood, moaned hungrily, and then slowly shuffled into the hallway beyond.

Her attire halfway between a standard duty uniform and Hazard gear, she looked beyond disheveled. Sweat-soaked hair was alternately plastered against the side of her face and sticking straight out from her scalp. Her head lolled to and fro as she trudged along, and her eyes rolled uselessly back in her head. A small trickle of blood slowly oozed its way out of one nostril, worming its way across her half-open lips.

Slowly she shuffled along, her gait erratic and awkward. Four times she ran into a wall before walking straight into a dead end. Quietly she bumped against the wall, as if trying to push her way through to the other side. To the casual observer, she would have seemed like death warmed over, slightly chilled, and then reheated once more.

They had to find hosts, that much the true Iniara could understand. No less than fifteen Dithparu were currently occupying her body, each one vying for control. The stress of so many separate, distinct personalities trying to control her body was tearing it apart, causing her body to think it was fighting a massive infection. It was a wonder her movements were this coordinated.

Iniara's true self had barricaded itself in a corner, trying to keep away from the mob. Their voices were a cacophony in her ears, a mish-mash of thoughts so sadistic they made even her cringe. There was no way she could fight off such an onslaught, and so she cowered, helpless, hoping the intruders would find what they wanted and then leave.

Then, suddenly, something sliced through the noise, like a beam of pure energy. The Dithparu all stopped and turned as one toward the source of the energy. Curious, Iniara reached out with them towards it.

And then it began again. Though rather than resuming the discordant litany from before, the voices joined in unison, forming harmonies more beautiful than any Iniara had ever heard. She felt herself being pulled forward, her own energy melding with the others'.

They knew what they had to do. Control of the Galaxy was no longer the priority. They had to get back to the station. To the Host. That was all that mattered now.

A moment later, the body of Tarin Iniara turned, looked around, and then continued its deliberate shuffle down the hall.

*****

Deep Space 5
Main Sickbay

Flexing fingers long held immobile by the fields, the being inhaled the air, sniffing sharply as he gingerly took halting steps off the upright unit and onto the floor. He felt the chill of cold air, the staleness of ventilation systems long quiet, and the very much distinguishable scent of death.

Blinking at the one who screamed, he cocked his head, sending thoughts rippling through the air to him, and finding his essence pure.

"I know you." He raised a gnarled finger in Saul's direction, even as he caught an echo of psionic thought brushing on the fringes of his psyche. Pressure as it tested his boundaries, the rise of distress from those he housed within.

The wounded Chief Tactical Officer rose to a full sitting position, glaring at the man from his dream. He was dressed differently now, but there was no doubt.

Several meters away, the being that held Rena Lanford felt the power from this new being. It was succulent, hypnotic, addictive. Water to a thirsty man roaming alone and desperate in the Forge. Her psyche descended into anarchy as she was overwhelmed with an intense desire to take him, feed off him, and inhabit him. She would be queen.

Rushing from the shadows with the laser-scalpel in hand she howled and hissed as she moved in a blur of speed to encapsulate him in her energies.

"Look out...whoever you are!"

Artim shouted instinctively. He had never seen anyone, even a Vulcan move that fast in his many centuries. He had raised his phaser to stun the Vulcan doctor, but he found that to be unecessary.

With an un-natural motion, Taru met the combatant head-on. His aged fingers grasped her by the temples and facial focal points, driving deep into her skin as he drove her to her knees.

The one in Rena thrashed, but could not control the limbs of her host. She tried to flee the host, but found her paths blocked. The others within her terrorized each other in a mad attempt to escape, but nothing would come of it. Her host's arms dropped limply by her sides.

Out of the haze within Rena's mind, a being in white emerged, his hands and arms wide, reaching out to Rena as her captors were scattered.

"My name is Taru. Do not be afraid." He extended his left hand to her own, waiting for her to take it. When she did not, he grasped it tightly.

The Vulcan tried to resist, but found herself enthralled by this being of light, unable to concentrate or focus on anything but the *good* radiating out from him.

"Stay with me. Together, we will take back what is yours."

Rena felt herself tumbling into chaos. Images of serpents, children being torn apart, devoured, desolation, loneliness, and murderous rampages... all filled her mind. She thought she would go mad.

A whimper escaped the lips of the Vulcan.

"What are you doing! You're hurting her!", Artim said as he moved to stop the being.

"Do not interfere!" Taru's demand was forceful yet strained. "I almost have her." The Dithparu pored forth from Rena's eyes, lips, nostrils, and mouth. An oily smoke that fell into Taru's own. He clamped his forehead against Rena's own, murmuring softly.

Artim just stood and watched, phaser in hand. He still wasn't sure what was going on, but he couldn't let either of these two out of sight.

Someone touched his hand. He turned around, and noticed Saul Bental holding out a PADD.

~Doctor~, it said, ~Give me minor painkiller. He needs me awake.~

"Right" Artim said as he loaded a painkiller into a hypospray and pressed it against Saul's neck. HE still wasn't sure what was going on here, but that was the name of the game the past couple days.

Then it was over. He let go of Rena, where she fell to the floor, barely conscious. Her features were bruised, dark circles newly formed under her eyes.

Taru closed his eyes, and touched his waxen temple. The veins in his ashen features glowed blue, and capillaries flushed red.

"She will recover. The Dithparu are gone from her."

"I'll be the judge of that if you don't mind", Artim said pulling out his tricorder. His jaw almost dropped at the results. "Whatever he did...her neural patterns are normal."

"So he didn't lie." The voice was awkward and hushed, and barely sounded like Saul. Slightly less aching, he was now able to speak with minimal movement of the lips and tounge. The Chief Tactical Officer was already holding his phaser, previously left neglected on the floor by the biobed Saul occupied.

It occurred to Saul that it was much less impressive than the silver pistol the man gave him in the dream.

But it could, say, vaporize a Humanoid if needed.

Problem is, Humanoids were not the ones who needed to be vaporized. It was those within them.

"Taru. How can we do to the rest of the KIND.", He hissed, not wasting a single painful word, "What you did to Rena?"

"I simply took back what didn't belong to her. It was an infestation, and needed to be purged. There are more out there. Many more. We need to purge them." He took a step towards the exit, ignoring everyone. He muttered to himself, incomprehensible thoughts spoken out loud.

"Silver pistol.", Saul murmured.

"Perhaps first, since both of you seem to have some clue what's going on here, perhaps you'd like to share some of that knowledge with the rest of us so that we might do something other then sit on our hands.", Artim said, staring directly into the rescently unfrozen person's eyes.

"The kind.", Saul's broken voice murmured, as though it would explain anything. "He can fight the kind."

NRPG: Every telepath on the ship and station will be aware of Taru's awakening. They'll be attracted to him like a moth to a flame as this guy has telepathic abilities to a degree that whoever inhabits him would, by his nature, be the most powerful Dithparu in existence. Can't pass up this tasty morsel. Come get him, if you can.

"Awakening" - Part IV

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Ensign Artim, Medical Officer
Lieutenant J.G. Naranda Sol Roswell, Engineer (Inhabited)

NPC's:
Rena Lanford (Inhabited),
Medical Officer (Ian)

Taru,
Weyri DS5 Survivor

*****

The man stopped. "The Kind..." He touched a jewel-adorned finger to his upper lip. "I haven't heard that name in some time. How do you know of their true name?"

"You don't remember the dream.", Saul muttered in realization. There was probably an explenation for this... perhaps Taru was in semi counscious state when he helped to protect Saul's mind from the Diparthu, or maybe... but alas, Saul never claimed to have any understanding of telepathy and psyonic abilities, and he didn't want to understand it either.

Taru drew up straight, his robes billowing around him. "Very well. I will need the assistance of as many telepaths as we can free. It may just be enough."

"Ok, but first why don't you tell us who you are and what these...things in people's heads are.", Artim said searching for a better term before falling on 'things' Something made this alien seem like someone they should trust, but he preferred to know why.

"My name, as you already know from this man," he nodded to Saul, "is Taru. I am a Weyri. An offshoot of a species you know of as Naxeran." He pushed onwards towards the exit. "I have been tracking the Dithparu throughout my life, in an effort to destroy them. They know nothing but violence and possession. They offer nothing but death to those that reside in the known galaxy, and like the Borg, seek to assimilate all telepaths as they are the perfect hosts.

"They were once rulers of a kingdom long ago. The race they inhabited died out a long time ago, when their ruler refused to allow himself to be inhabited by one the Kind. He sealed the exit to their prison, which became their tomb. What happened to the people to die out, no one knows. Their world is lost forever. The structure - asteroid - that is connected to this station was once part of that world, and is all that remains from what I have been able to discern."

"How come.", Saul whispered, "That the structure reached the vicinity of the station? And how come you know all this?"

"I know this, because my grandfather was once inhabited by the Dithparu. It was his release of the Kind that caused the death of his friend's father, who now lies in the Starbase morgue. How the object reached here, was a combination of gravitational forces and random luck. The station personnel had it towed in for a reason I was not able to discern."

Rena had propped herself up against a biobed, now conscious and hazy. "Ven Kaldarren?" Her voice was cracked with a husky edge to it. Dallas and Artim turned their attentions back to her as she grappled with regaining her mobility.

"Yes. My grandfather was never free of the nightmares of that day. It tortured him to no end, right up to the end of his life. They ruined him. They broke him. I cannot allow that to happen again."

"Then lets see.", The Chief Tactical Officer suggested, "How we end this, right here and now."

"That isn't as easy as you make it sound, young man. I tried to halt their advance on a station of ten thousand individuals and failed because I arrived after they had been freed. It would seem the same has occurred again. The structure was re-opened.

"If anything is to be done, it must begin with closing the structure once again. Everything radiates from there. Close the door, and you sever their

core energy. They would eventually feed off themselves, as had apparently occurred after I entered lost consciousness. With hope and learned lessons, we may be able to avoid the tragedy that had followed."

*****

Deep Space 5
Corridor

Nara's legs were running. Running hard toward somewhere that she really rather not be.

Ioa and Oluw were conspiring against each other. Nara knew. They seemed to hide it well from each other, but she wondered if they knew from her knowing

each of their traiterous plans. They didn't seem too concentrated on her mind anyway. They were just using the body as transport.

Problem was, Nara's body had been exhausted before Oluw took control. Oluw suddenly stopped the body, sending it crashing to the floor.

~Why did you do that!~ Ioa complained.

~I can't see. There are too many dots.~

~We must hurry!~

~Then help me control.~

Together, they managed to get Nara's body moving.

Meanwhile, Nara's mind was being forced by Nara to be alert. She may not have control, but she wanted to know what was happening.

*****

Deep Space 5
Main Sickbay

Nara's body made it into the sickbay with Nara's normal grace, somewhat. She wasn't a dancer or anything, but she normally held herself with strength (To

compensate for height issues). Strength that was seriously lacking at the moment.

Ioa and Oluw saw the one they were searching for and a smile spread across Nara's face.

Nara also saw someone else in the view of her eyes. Saul.

Ioa and Oluw kept the focus on the tasty treat. They made their way toward him.

Saul Bental was standing alone, guarding the sole entrance to sickbay. After

hearing Taru's words, everyone realized that keeping sickbay protected from the kind was crucial. He held a phaser rifle loosely, its strap detached and lying on the floor besides Saul's feet.

In the time that passed since he took position by the door, he was able to set the PADD he used for communication as a text-to-voice translator. So he only had to smile at her - painful as that expression might be for someone with a cracked jaw - as the hand held device spoke for him.

["Nara! I asked the Galaxy for an engineer hours ago. I hoped it would be you."]

Nara's face turned toward Saul, and the hand holding the phaser lifted toward him. "Don't get in the way." Then a beam shot out.

"Naienn!", Saul shouted, and the sharp pain from his jaw nearly paralyzed his body. He fell down, the beam hitting the semi shut door Saul was guarding.

Behind the semi-shut door, Taru shot a gnarled finger forward and stated matter-of-factly, "She is infested."

Saul rolled and crouched behind the door, only the barrel of his phaser exposed to phaser fire from the outside. ["Nara."], His voice boomed. ["I know you're in there. Stop them. Don't go closer."]

Inside, Nara answered defeatedly, ~No, I can't stop them.~ But she tried anyway--in vain--as the hand lifted and the phaser aimed at him again and another beam shot out.

Sparkles showered the doorway, searing Saul's skin. Behind the haze of pain,

he tried to overcome the shock and devise a plan at the same time. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't think twice - the corridor outside sickbay could serve as a killzone, and there were plenty of means to make it a death trap.

But he found, that he preferred to shoot his own leg rather than the host.

Although he had no way of knowing how hard Nara fought to regain control of her own body, he knew that she wouldn't let go without a fight. All he needed was just a split second, a single misguided shot...

He glanced back inside, where Dallas and Artim were watching the doorway intensely.

"What the hell!" Artim said, grabbing up his carbine and readying it. "What's going on out there!"

"They killed Saia!!!", he shouted, with his own broken voice.

Nara, inside, surged with further anger at the Dithparu. Her weakened mind fought harder, but it wasn't any match for even one of her possessors, let alone both. Even further insult to irony was the anger in her mind fed adrenaline to her exhausted body, making it easier for her two possessors to control it. Again, the phaser aimed at Saul. "You know nothing. Now choose to shut up before I make you."

Saul rushed forward. It was one of the single most stupid things he ever done, and as he took the first step he knew he would hate himself for doing it for the rest of his life, which could be the next fifty milliseconds or so.

Something brushed his shoulder. The pain joined the pain from the jaw, like a new violin joining an orchestra of agony.

He couldn't see clearly, so he just rammed the nearest solid form. He registered Nara's soft body as the two fell to the floor in a vortex of legs, arms and phaser rifles.

Nara's voice, controlled by both Oluw and Ioa, and therefore allowing for the eerie triple vocal sound (the Dithparus' most likely just heard in people's minds) spoke, "When will you understand you cannot fight us!"

"TARU!"

The Dithparu quickly scanned Nara's mind for maneuvers and grabbed Saul's rifle and moving it to butt his already broken jaw.

Taru approached the woman, held in check by Ioa and Oluw. She struggled, snarling and snapped obscenities and threats which he ignored. Touching his cold fingers over her face, he found the focal points, and repeated the procedure with Rena on the Engineer.

Ioa and Oluw left the body, but went straight to trying to infest Taru. They

fought against each other, which proved a very good advantage for him.

Nara immediately fell the to the floor. The second the controller's left, her body shut down. She didn't have time to see if Saul was alright or apologize. She lay there unconscious as her body took over control. It would let her mind resume control once it received much desired rest.

The exhausted Tactical Chief remained on the floor this time, his widened eyes fixed on the ceiling. Everything revolved around him. It was like drinking too much illegal ale, only that your entire body had a bad headache and not just your head.

Artim blinked several times to make sure what he was seeing was real. Telepathy was never something Artim could understand nor wanted to understand. It was something that was out there and that was it as far as he was concerned and he wasn't going to worry about it until it affected his life. Now apparantly it was.

The Miran's eyes locked onto the being called Taru and waited to see what his plan was. However it appeared he had his own problems at present.

"Taru...you okay in there?"

The Weyri had broken into a mild sweat, his milky white knuckles clenched at his sides. Dribbles of dark blood stood our starkly against the albino skin as it slowly dripped to the floor.

His head cocked to the side, twitching until it stopped, where he opened his eyes. Black opals stared back at them.

"The two are contained." His breath was coming in short wheezes, rasping. "Now, take me to the prison. We must hurry. They're coming. They know I'm here."

act of desperation

by Turan Trelar, Quentite ambassador

Turan had spent the last hours in underground evilly avoiding every public place, of course including ten forward. The risk of running into one of the possessed crew member didn't weigh the hunger. Minutes ago, a place came into his mind which reminded him much at Quentin. Although most of there plants were different from the ones found on his home-world they at least were green and few of them were carrying fruits. And there was water, a small artificial waterfall running down a cascade of stones. Turan headed for the arboretum.

Arboretum ...

Obviously somebody else seemed to have conquered the arboretum before he was able to do. A crewman with pointy ear lobes pointed a phaser at a group of civilians.

Some of them were bound to trees. Other, who seemed to be children stood right in front of him.

There was no doubt, the crewman was of Vulcan heritage. He in fact looked like a Vulcan. He didn't behave like one. He didn't even behave adequate for somebody possessed by a bodiless creature trying to take over the Galaxy. This one behaved like a child. - A cruel one, but nevertheless a child.

Turan retreated out of sight, kneeled down and searched the toolkit he still was carrying. There were manual tools, electronic gadgets several of them he wasn't even able to name, gaffer tape, an emergency packages of bandages - but no weapon. Turan took the laser knife and shoved it into his trouser's pocket then ripped several pieces of gaffer tape and attached the sonic screwdriver to the toolkit's lid. He glued an other piece of tape to the tool and ran it over to the box's opposite wall. Finally Turan checked his work. If the box was opened without care, the tape applied pressure to the screwdriver which would induce a sonic impact to the other tools inside the box. There was a small chance one of the other tools would become hazardous or even explode. At least would there be a moment of surprise chaos and inattentiveness.

The giant Quentite activated the screwdriver, carefully closed the lid, took the box as if it was pure nitroglycerin, walked over to the arboretum's entrance.

The arboretum's main door swished open.

off: I guess this takes place prior to Marco's "Act of Desperation" post

"You can run... and run some more..."

Saia
Sam
Vortas

"Don't come any closer." Samantha warned the man in front of them. Sure, a weapon would have gone along better with these threats but a girl had to work with what she had.

Saia looked at the man who was way taller than her. She wondered if he would listen. Somehow, she doubted it.

"Do what youre told child and this will be much less painful." It was the rational Dithparu speaking now. "Now get on the ground over there now before my companion in this host gets annoyed...or I get annoyed."

"Saia," Samantha said as calmly as she could manage. "Do you remember scene 25 from our story?"

She almost didn't but catching something in the way Sam said it, she nodded.

"Now!" Samantha yelled leaping in front of this man so that Saia could run away.

Saia ran, but turned to see if Sam was with her. She got behind a tree and peeked around the corner to watch. She had to do something, but with what and how?

Samantha threw her body weight into the man which was enough to distract him, unbalance him for a moment but not enough to knock him down. She shrieked as she found herself suddenly lifted off the ground and staring into the eyes of a very annoyed possessed person.

"Well, now." Sam said a bit breathlessly. "That didn't go exactly as I had hoped."

"No, I'm sure it didn't, now don't play so rough, only I get to play rough." Vortas said as he dragged the girl in his hands to a tree by his other captives and tied her to it securely. "Now, why don't you ask your little friend to come here before I'm forced to start making your last moments very, very unpleasant."

Saia looked for something and found a rock, and as brave, yet stupid as it was, chunked it at him.

Vortas, or rather the things controlling him felt the impact on his leg. He spun to face the direction it came from.

"Little twit. Now don't make me have to come find you or something very painful is going to happen to both you and your friend here.

Saia just ducked down further, hoping Sam had more to her plan.

Unfortunately, Samantha really didn't. What she did have was the useful talent of annoying everyone around her. Victor Krieghoff owed her big time for putting her in charge of Saia's safety.

"Blow it out your piehold, pthak." Samantha sneered. "You don't scare us."

"Oh, you don't have to be afraid. You'll die just the same", Vortas' controller replied

"Saia," Samantha snarled. "You take one step in this direction and I'll be really pissed. Go get someone now and be smart about it."

Saia jumped up and ran as fast as she could toward the door.

The juevenile mind in Vortas made to go after the escaping girl but the other mind pulled him back.

~Let her go. If you go after her, the others will get away. She'll try and bring help, but what can they do?~

"Fine!" the other said speaking through Vortas "I'll deal with these little morsels first."

The Lethean then picked up the girl that had been identified as Samantha and adjusted her bonds so that she was hanging by her wrists from a branch.

"I'll give you a decision to make little girl, who dies next?"

"The child declines such an offer." Samantha said, looking straight ahead. She had survived the Hirogen, a crazed 8-ball, she could make it through this.

Right?

Vortas was noticably irritated by Samantha's refusal of his order, but he turned that into an evil grimmace. After giving the girl a swift kick to the ribs, he adjusted her bonds again so she was dangling from her thumbs. After doing the same to each of the other captives, he said with a bit of a growl, "Since this girl can't make up her mind, you can all just dangle there until she makes up her mind. And don't expect that to be all I do, so I suggest you decide quickly"

The pain was intense and Samantha chose the easiest way to opt out of the conversation. She fainted.

***In the corridor***

Saia ran into the hall and stopped. Who would she get? Who could they trust? She wanted to stop right there and cry, but Sam was right. She was a surviver. She's been through...well this was the worst yet, but she managed to get this far. She decided to pretty much trust the only thing she could think of. The computer. It provided many answers. Sometimes. If you asked it  right.

"Um, computer, could you please tell me where the nearest non-crazy adult is. Oh and he or she needs a weapon. A weapon would be very useful."

"Please rephrase." The computer answered.

Saia sighed and thought about it, "Where is the nearest, um, life sign."

"The arburetum."

"I know THAT! Besides there!"

And Saia and the computer continued their conversation. After about a minute, she gave up and ran over to door, banging on them, hoping the crazies were all out in the halls.

"Exorcism" -- pt. 2

Lt. Cmdr. Brian Elessidil
Asst. Chief Counselor

Nurse Cardin Mehl NPC

with mention of Erin Friel Ten-Forward Hostess

For a short while, it appeared that the counselor might actually succeed in driving out the Dithparu invader, but It managed to regain the upper hand, clamping down on the host's conscious and subconscious mind and silencing the rebellion that was being waged entirely in the realm of bioelectric signals and neural pathways. It staggered, holding Its head and bringing Its focus back to this host body. When It finally straightened up again It surveyed the corridor. It was alone.

"I will not allow your treachery to strike me again," It muttered out loud, as if Its vanquished host were standing right next to It. Already though, It could feel the pull of the One It had sensed earlier. It knew It had to have that host but It couldn't risk another opportunity for this host to reassert himself while It was distracted. As It was now accustomed to doing, It turned to Its host's knowledge and memories for a solution. A malevolent smile darkened Its face as the Elessidil Dithparu found what it had been looking for. "Perfect . . . perfect," It growled. Then It set off for Deck 12.

Getting to Deck 12 was uneventful, the Elessidil Dithparu content that Its host body's original occupant had been subdued for the time being. But It was taking no chances. Sickbay was Its destination, and when It got there, It once again took on the counselor's persona.

"Counselor, how are you feeling?" It was Cardin Mehl, the nurse who had first helped It get out of here. "You know you were supposed to check in again with me after four hours; you're a few hours overdue," he said, with an admonishing cock of his head.

"You're right, Ensign," It replied with an amiable chuckle. "I completely lost track of time. Things have been rather crazy around here, you know."

"Do I," Mehl concurred. "People have been coming in here non-stop." He pointed to a biobed across from them where the lithe form of a red-headed woman lay. "She's the latest, the girl from Ten Forward. They found her there with three dead bodies, two Vulcans and a human, and another officer in similar condition to her. Apparently the Vulcans were initiating mind-melds with them but were killed before the connections were complete. Her brainwave activity is minimal; she's been in a coma since they brought her in."

Elessidil slowly shook his head, feigning sad surprise at the situation no one else knew It caused. "That's terrible. She's such a friendly person. Any chance she'll come out of it?"

"The doctors aren't sure yet. All we can do is wait and see. Anyway, what about you, Counselor? Why don't we take a look at you?"

"That's fine with me," It played along. "Oh, but I was wondering if you had something for this headache that's seemed to have come back."

Mehl smiled. "Sure, I can get you something that'll have you feeling better in no time. I'll be right back."

"I'll come with you," It replied. "No use in me taking up space out here when there are others in worse shape than I am."

The nurse led the counselor to a supply cabinet a good bit away from the main sickbay. Opening one of the cabinet door, Mehl rummaged through an assortment of containers. "Let me see what we have here . . . ."

"I was thinking maybe Naprolex," It said from just over Mehl's shoulder.

"Naprolex?" the nurse chuckled. "Counselor, I think that might be a bit..."

Before Mehl even finished his sentence, Elessidil had grabbed him from behind in an armlock and slammed his face flat against the other cabinet door, the phaser it carried now held to the surprised nurse's head. "I know what I want, Ensign," It hissed directly into Its captive's ear. "I want Naprolex. This phaser is set to kill. You either get me what I asked for without another sound or you'll be dead. Clear enough for you?"

Assuming Elessidil was having some sort of relapse, Mehl considered for a split second whether or not to yell for help.

"I'd advise against that -- how's that for some counseling?" It whispered harshly, reading the nurse's thoughts. "I'm going to share a little secret with you, Ensign. Those bodies in Ten Forward? It was this very phaser that caused that and I won't hesitate to use it again right here." A sinister rush again filled It's mind in contemplation of killing another corporeal. And savoring the terror It could empathically sense only brought It additional pleasure. "I will not ask a third time -- get the Naprolex!"

This time the shaken man complied, using his free hand to find the drug as quickly as possible. A few moments later, he held a sealed vial over his shoulder. "H-here," he whispered hoarsely, "Naprolex."

It beamed triumphantly. "Set it down," It commanded, which the nurse did immediately with a trembling hand. "See, Ensign? You should always follow your counselor's advice." Without another word, It fired the phaser, letting Mehl's body collapse in a heap at It's feet. Another corporeal was dead.

Wasting no more time risking being discovered, the Elessidil Dithparu tucked away the phaser, snatched up a hypospray from a tray nearby and loaded the vial. The combined euphoria of another kill and increased anticipation of taking the Presence It had sensed as a superior host was a sensation unlike anything It ever could have imagined.

"Thank you for the knowledge, counselor," It said facetiously. "This should quiet you long enough for me to find a way to the station and my new host." Then It held the hypospray to It's neck and released the drug. Quietly setting down the hypospray, It straightened Elessidil's uniform and took a step toward the main part of sickbay . . . but It never got that far.

Seconds later, the drug took effect. Too late, It suddenly understood that the counselor's "knowledge" of the drug had been false, planted and held as true by the rebelling host consciousness while his Dithparu abductor was distracted by It's obsession with the Presence. Wide-eyed with fury, It felt the host body and mind shut down from the self-inflicted treachery, and It fell to the floor -- only a couple feet from the nurse It had killed only moments before.

It had lost Its host; without corporeal form, It was not likely to reach the Prize that awaited at the station.

"Mano a Mano"

Principle Characters

Lt. Commander James Corgan
Lt. T'lan/Azuul the Diparthu
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 10
En Route To Computer Core

Unbeknownst to Corgan, shadowing him in the corridors of the Galaxy was the Dithparu Azuul in Mark Sheridan's shell. The being didn't need to be so close to Corgan as to be recognized as trailing him, but far enough back to follow the trademark 'tag' he'd placed on the psyche of the security chief. Using the Ullian's telepathic skills, he'd cast a shade of 'cloaking' over the security personnel, blocking the synapses that controlled the notion of 'someone following them'. So therefore, he observed in person, unlike T'Lan.

His close proximity also ensured Corgan would remain enthralled and do as he was ordered to. If not... he brought the bore of his telepathic skills to the forefront. He would burn out the human's mind, and the other one's with it as he sent a surge towards them. He was unsure what it would do to himself, but he could not allow Krieghoff to continue unyielded. The question remained whether he would allow himself to die, or take the security chief with him. Human's were so unreliable.

"Seemed only fair," Victor replied tonelessly, circling slightly to the left, forcing Corgan to turn with him. "You did it first, after all. I'm just more direct about it, that's all."

James nodded his acknowledgement, respectful if cold, "Fair enough. Then I'll be direct in kind. Surrender or die."

Victor didn't respond, but blinked once as he continued to move slowly, passing through the shadow cast by the hoist arm T'lan stood on, something happening to him in that momentary passage, the man that emerged from the passage through shadow different, as if he were now only the mask for something else. "So how's this working for you, Jimmy?" he asked in a voice that wasn't really Victor's any more. "The whole slave thing, I mean? Is it good for you?"

T'lan chortled, "Answer him, James. I want you to give him the honest truth."

"I hate it." James Corgan looked downcast at the floor, "I have no free will unless Mistress allows it. She holds my friends hostage. She takes over my thoughts, dominates my mind, and doesn't leave me a moment of peace. And every time I try to fight her off, I feel nothing but blinding, deep seeded pain. I want to fight her off, but I CAN'T! Even now, if I think to leave you alone, she turns on more pain, and more."

Mistress interposed, "The beauty is, I don't let him die. He can't even commit suicide, the thought paralyzes his hands. Hating me brings unimaginable headaches. Helping his loved ones without my permission ceases his heart and slowly puts pressure on his brain. Love brings him his nightmares. My job... is so absolute that rebelling is impossible. Don't blame him, really..."

"I don't." Victor didn't bother to glance up at her. "I know who's responsible." She wouldn't interfere until he'd killed Corgan, and Corgan was too dangerous to leave unchecked while he turned on T'lan's possessor. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you, though, Jimmy," he added with a smile that dropped the temperature of the room a few degrees. "Nothing personal, you understand, but you're too dangerous to leave as a tool for the parasite in T'lan's head."

Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the furious response to Krieghoff's verbal slap kept under an placid Vulcan veneer, Mistress ordered, "Speak your mind, James. These are rare and personal opportunities. Take it. I would enjoy your... insights on this man."

Corgan answered, "Arrogant prick. You're always so sure of yourself. You always think that you are so invincible, so untouchable. You act as if there is nothing in the universe quite like you, and that you have reached such a plateau that nobody, not even me, can touch you... much less kill you. And with that it gives you a license to do whatever you want, make decisions that are far beyond your years. That is why I haven't made you my assistant chief yet. You honestly don't temper your judgement with compassion. Everything is cold to you! To answer your question about whether or not I should die before T'lan uses me for something worse... I'll tell you while giving my reason why I haven't turned the phaser on myself while I was with Baile, the only chance I had to break her domination!"

Gulping down a gasp, T'lan looked uneasily at James. Corgan's conviction was implaccable, without any doubt. "That is right, Mistress. Your control is not perfect, but neither is my resistance. I'll take Krieghoff down if I have to because I think he is wrong to destroy this ship. Our fight isn't even damn near over yet and you, Victor, you've already written us off! Who the f**k are you to say our fight is over yet, that you can rig the ship to blow now? You don't have the experience to know yet, and you don't have the right! I'll stop you from doing this overly drastic action."

"But..." James said with a weary sigh, "You will have to kill me. I hope you'll kill me, and not the rest of the crew yet. I'm the only one that can stop you. It is too late right now for me to break free. It's not too late for those we have left! We can't wait for her control over the others to slip again. It must happen now. Kill me!"

"Exactly," Victor nodded, his eyes never leaving Corgan. "I knew you would. You're not like me, not really... but you can make yourself something close enough to it that you understand, even if only a little. If you have to." He smiled that terrible smile again. "That's why she chose you for this. None of the others would do, just you. The brightest, shiniest vibrator in her little box of sex toys." He ignored T'lan's squawk from above them. "It's the only way they can feel it, you know. The only way they can feel anything. They have to make us feel it for them. That's why she uses all those metaphors and little double entrendes. Because this is the only way she can get off... with toys." His smile widened, and for a second, just an instant, it seemed that it wouldn't stop widening, that it would keep opening until his head split apart and the thing inside hm was revealed for everyone to see. "Though maybe that shiny analogy wasn't correct, Jimmy. Maybe you're one ofthose th ings with the little bumps and tentacles all over them. What about it? What kind of toy are you?"

James smirked, "Lifelife. Ribbed. Looks handsome in a latex suit and a gimp mask. What the f**k do you think?"

Victor's laugh was the stuff of nightmares. "No, I don't think so, Jimmy. You're too smart for that. If you'd been stupid, like her friends, the ones that tried to get inside my head earlier, you'd have pulled the trigger already. But you didn't. You're still covering me. Why is that?" He spread his arms wide. "Go ahead, shoot.?" He paused a second. "No? Why is that, I wonder? Maybe you ought to tell your puppetmaster why, I'm sure she's dying to know...."

James' gun hand tensed, his trigger thumb wobbling over angry red button that would release the phaser's pent up rage and turn Victor into a smoking pile.

But something held back.

T'lan didn't like this new resistance. It was more subtle than the last. She felt questions arise from her thrall champion, questions of why, did she want him dead or alive, was this what she wanted. Inconsequential questions that would get a seasoned veteran of many hostile actions killed if they pondered them here and now. James let out the barrage of questions.

T'lan smiled, her cackle fluttering off like bats escaping hell and flying for their life. She concentrated her though, and gave out one order that couldn't be misinterpreted, easily rendering the defense of one mundane human inert.

James moved his thumb away from the phaser trigger, and pressed the chamber to his head.

"I still have hope. Give us more time, Victor." James whispered.

Then he dropped the phaser.

At the same time, T'lan off handedly remarked, "I'm sick of this posturing."

The pitch of her voice triggered, returning the battle aura James extruded before. As the phaser flipped upwards, then downwards, his heels pivoted, and he spun, dropping low while lifting off with his toes, twirling like a winding ball. His off hand brushed the handle of his dropped phaser as his legs kicked out and his right knee hit the floor. He grabbed his weapon, scraped his finger over the power regulation control, and fired a shot.

It was the fastest, most difficult draw of his life.

He had to get the move just right. Victor stood there, without moving, that same terrible smile on his face, waiting. As the phaser came back up, and James' finger depressed the firing switch, three final words slipped out past Victor's lips. "Good boy, Jimmy."

The phaser beam crumpled his body into the nearest bulwark. As Victor's eyesight began to fade, T'lan jumped off the torpedo hoist and took her place at James side. James strode to Victor, kneeled down, rapping the phaser's barrel on his head. "Stun, dumbass. And you used a lifesign monitor? Not very smart... too easily fooled. You should have used a brainwave monitor." He yanked Victor's sidearms, and checked his body for any other devices. Depositing a small pile of improvised weaponry, James then strapped neural restraint cuffs on Victor's captured body.

"Congratulations. Is there any more doubt about who's the best?" T'lan lovingly stroked James' shoulders.

To that James had no response. He could barely feel the remorse without T'lan's conditioning burying it back in or roiling his stomach.

"Take him with us. I want him to see something." The Mistress ordered.

Further back into the corridors behind, Azuul slipped back into the shadows.

He did not return to the Computer Core.

"Self Control"

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

Raynor’s Unconscious
Visual Mindscape

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?"

"Ho, Pariah..." Jack greeted. It was the Terran Coven's form of 'hello'.

"Ho, Jack..." Pariah responded. Then after a short moment he said "Take me to your village…" Pariah had thought of an old earth riddle, of a traveler wanting to go to the village of truth, and stopping in the middle of a fork in the road one of which led to that village, and the other led to a neighbouring village full of lairs. There’s usually a local there who asks for directions. You only get one question and your never sure which village their from.

"No villages of truth or lies here, Zev…" Jack said back. "You weren’t actually expecting that to work."

"So what? Waiting for Godot?" Zev asked with a smile on his face. No chance he was going to wait for that bastard to show up. "Or are you a wolf, and am I the child in the red cloak?"

"The opportune moment.... and a couple of the recently degged to come forward," Jack answered with devilish grin.

Degged: dead or injured, in this case dead. "Joy..." Pariah's tone was disinterested.

"The dip-shits, and several shadows..." Jack commented looking off into the horizon. The seemed to be a lot of dust being kicked up and two figures seemed to approach. Jack said one more thing before he vanished, "Remember Lesson Number One..." and with that he was gone.

"Perfect..." he said sarcastically. Time to deal with these bastards, and drag every memory of their death to Kanin and make him believe it was as real as possible. He drew both his modernized pistols, Bam-Bam and Kiki. He aimed carefully.

Just then the ground seemed to explode as dark shadowy wolf-like figures that seemed to be like smoke to start with than formed into solid beings. Pariah fired into the ground and 'jumped' about fifty feet in the air.

The 'echoes' of Dithparu seemed surprised by the fact he could jump that high. While it might have been considered normal for a trained natural telepath to be able to manipulate his avatar's abilities in the mind, Pariah was in no way 'trained' mentally for such control.

For Pariah however it was a simple matter of changing his perception of his surroundings, something humans could easily do once they realised they were in a dream. Not to say that dreams did not have wills of their own, but Raynor was in control right now of at least the gravity in the dream. Raynor had been raised in a number of gravity environments and knew how to deal with all of them. True, many organizations that had any sort of military often insisted that some of their recruits train in higher gravity environments, to increase their psychical prowess, but that was all they really trained them in. In the Terran Coven, however, the Mercenary Guild in which Raynor was raised, they insisted on lower gravity environments training as much as the higher gravity. While the higher gravity did increase ones psychical condition, it always overlooked something. Precision. Control. In lower gravity it was easier for one to overexert oneself, and move too far, too quickly. And those who knew this, often moved slower than they would of normally, often putting too little push into their movements, scared they might over aim.

Raynor had training in both so he had the psychical power, with the control drilled into him since he was a child. Pariah was Raynor's principle consciousness so he also had this ability to deal with the great variety of gravimetric conditions was like second nature to him. Something he spent at least three hours a week making sure he still had the skills to do. So in changing his perception of his own mental environment, it gave him a distinct advantage. He could move swiftly in this environment without worrying about overdoing it.

Currently they were on the equivalent Earth’s moon. Pariah fired at the shadows that were below him, and catching up with the change. Of course the bullets did little to slow the shadows down. They simply turned into a puff of smoke for a short time, losing momentum as they started clawing after Pariah.

Then one of the two of the truly dead Dithparu 'fired' at Pariah, though it was unclear what he was firing, it gave the Pariah the sense of being shot at with a sniper rifle. Highly calculating and cautious weapon. The other had jumped from out of nowhere with two claw like weapons that seemed to double as shields.

This battle was about to get interesting...

---

Deep Space Five – Corridors Completely Stopped

Meanwhile… Kanin was becoming more and more nervous… Madden was summoning, someone named Satan. After a while Kanin was assured that no such person could exist, then he felt this new powerful presence that he had never felt before. He was getting scared.

"It's a trick it has to be..." he said out loud too afraid to move.

In the background there seemed to be a Dark Chorus that just continually chanted the same haunting call ~Satan... Satan... Master Satan...~

~The Dark Lord comes~ Madden said, the chanting behind not ceasing. ~We must sacrifice a soul in order for him to come to being. You shall do... Satan... Satan... Master Satan... Accept this sacrifice... as a token of your most loyal servant... He will be put to death...~

Kanin was now officially freaking out as he ran and hid behind nearest pile of rumble. He squatted down into a little ball and held his head with both hands rocking back and forth, Raynor's face showed a mix of panic and shock.

It was one thing to be possessed, another thing to annoy and harass the possessor, but to scare like a little girl while you were still his prisoner, especially when he was supposed to be an over the top cliché evil villain... there was only one word to describe it for Madden. Priceless.

---

Back in the Mindscape...

Pariah deflected another shot from the sniper while in free fall. The clawed brawler and the shadow wolves moved closer to his current position... The brawler from above He had switched from his guns to his katana and wakizashi blades. As the brawler dived at his chest, he managed to position his swords to in a defensive position as he brawler closed in. As blades connected Pariah pushed the weapons sideways and kicked hard against the brawlers exposed chest that sped his descent. He then spun in a corkscrew motion, with his swords pointing outwards, slashing the wolves as they went past him... Then flipping himself over and landing on his left leg for a split second to push off again at weird and unexpected angle, to dodge another sniper shot.

All in all, Pariah was almost finding this fun. He laughed a little too as he saw whom the sniper hit. The brawler’s left arm was now completely useless. Pariah stabbed the ground with his katana using the momentum of make a U-turn mid-flight back towards the Brawler, while the wolves were still busy reforming themselves. The brawler saw this and tried to raise his right arm in a vague defence. Pariah simply slashed the right with the wakizashi and ran the brawler through with his katana.

For an instant, he saw how this particular. The brawler simply made the choice not to continue. It just wanted to die, preferring death to what it had experienced at the hands of a truer evil. But the host had died with it, so this memory wasn’t optimal. Pariah continued the battle.

He began to charge at the sniper with a terrifying pace, using the brawler as a 'Human' shield, though it threw Pariah slightly off balance.

The sniper just continued to fire rounds at him, and just kept hitting the brawler's body. Two steps before the sniper, he pulled the Katana, out of the Brawler, and leap into the air. The gravity now had changed to about 1% that of Earth's so he really getting a lot of height with it. The sniper was having far too much difficulty holding a steady shot, then he flipped the switch again and now gravity was heavy about three times Earth’s. Pariah pointed the katana in a downward stab as he plummeted towards the sniper who was having difficultly lifting the rifle. Just as the sniper mustered enough strength to lift it, and look upward he was stabbed in his mouth and down his throat. And with blood that sprayed, memories of this thing's last moments arouse to their fullest form. The Host survived this particular encounter, if only got a little scared. This experience he could use.

Pariah took then took his wakizashi and hugged the sniper. He stabbed the sniper in the back, and himself in the stomach in one quick move. Pariah fell to the ground, and began to wake up from his 'nightmare'.

---

Back in the corridors of Deep Space Five, and reality...

The chanting reached its peak... and so did Kanin’s fear with it. Raynor’s body began to shudder, and his eye's went completely white. And then he stopped shuddering, and blinked. There lying on the floor, Kanin had died, and Raynor was himself again. And in complete self-control.

"Love in an Elevator"

Principal Characters:
Vice-Legate Kylar Curran
Lt. Ella Grey
Flight Officer Angelienia

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 9
Inside Turbolift 4

The attack came without warning, four seconds after the turbolift car's doors had closed, and as the Vulcan was giving the command to route the car to Security Main and the Central Brig.

A shape in tight-fitting pilot's duty coveralls - a woman from the long blonde hair and figure - dropped soundlessly on the two men holding Kylar, her feet slamming into the one on the left to send the security officer into the side of the lift car with a thud, as her arms encircled the one on the right and bore him to the floor of the car. Behind him, as the Vulcan started to reach for a phaser, another, smaller, figure - also a woman, but with dark hair - dropped down through the access hatch and crashed awkwardly into him, knocking the phaser loose from his grasp.

The Vulcan kicked and Ella didn't react fast enough to avoid it. She did move fast enough however to leap on the Vulcan as he scrambled for the phaser, adrenaline pumping quickly so that she didn't feel the pain. He was her job, she thought, all that she had to take care of. Ella only hoped that

Angie had her back as she concentrated on avoiding his elbows and punches.

The drop-ins surprised Kylar as much as the security officers holding him between them. When the first one went down, he dragged the Kelvan down on top of him. Without a thought as to who the new presences were, the Liaison officer rolled onto his back, bringing his manacled wrists over the brute, cupping his legs around the others upper thighs to lock down mobility. The shackles served a dual purpose not beneficial to the security guards - they couldn't be separated as free hands could be from around a person's neck.

He pulled back hard on the throat of the captor, bending his back as he choked him into unconsciousness. In this position, he could better grasp the surroundings new additions and evaluate his chances to a better degree.

The blonde pilot, a Ktarian, slammed her opponent's head into the floor of the lift car twice, hit him twice more, and then looked up in Kylar's direction, her green cat's eyes bright with the light of battle and her slightly-pointed teeth bared. She started to rise, hissed once as the security officer beneath her moved, and responded by striking him several more times in rapid succession with more enthusiasm than real skill. When he stopped moving after the last blow, she looked up and snarled silently towards the back of the car, where the Vulcan and the second woman were. "Drop, Mouse!" she snapped as she jumped forward again, the first words spoken in the struggle.

Ella followed the command. She dropped quickly.

Angelienia slammed into the Vulcan high, hitting him in the upper chest and throwing him off-balance before he could take advantage of Ella's shift in position. The impact jarred the lift car and caused her opponent to drop to his knees, the Ktarian wrapped around him awkwardly, tying his arms up, but leaving his head exposed.

Ella kicked the Vulcan hard in the face, delivering the final blow, and then falling backwards and clutching her stomach. Romulan ale, she thought. When this was all over, Romulan ale and lots of it.

The lift car went silent except for the breathing of its occupants, and the Ktarian woman slumped back against the wall. "You all right, Mouse?" she asked, eyes closed. "Nothing else broken?"

"Just fine," Ella said in between winces, "And dandy."

"This isn't normal Starfleet behavior." Three captors down to two. Well, three if you count the cat as a pair. He didn't dare move, still having his manacles on and encumbered by a fairly large-bodied individual lying right across his upper torso being highly limiting.

Angelienia had to smile at that. No one on the Galaxy was normal, that was why they were all here.

Ella rolled her eyes. Trust Curran ignore the thank you's and get down to the complaints.

His eyes flitted from the entry point at the top of the turbolift to the women, both still catching their breath. The phaser carried by the guard he was under was just under his right knee.

"I recognize you," nodding at the dark-haired female to his left, "But not you. Ktarian, correct?"

"Flight Officer Angelienia.," she purred back. "And yes."

"So, what do you intend to do with me? At the very least, remove my manacles to give me an honorable challenge."

"Oh no," the Flight Officer laughed in the purring, throaty way of her species. "We didn't go to all this trouble, have all those fights, and the Mouse certainly didn't get shot just so we could have a fight with *you.*" She leaned over and punched the standard disarm code into the manacles and leaned back as they sprang open. "The Vulcan whore's mind-slaves didn't hurt you, did they?" she asked as she glanced over at Ella to check on her.

Curran's brow rose at the Vanguard's casual reference to an officer as being a prostitute. His wrists slipped out, where he darted for the phaser and held it at a forty-five degree angle upwards into the Ktarian's lower torso.

"And how do I know neither one of you are alleged mind-slaves, trying to trick me into giving you access or information?" His eyes flitted to the other person with them, the one she called 'mouse'. She most certainly did not look like a rodent, even if he felt like snapping her neck in a trap some time ago, during a shipwide hand-to-hand tourney.

"You don't." Ella replied through her gritted teeth. The grinding of her teeth was more because of her wound than the Legate but bother were equally annoying. She wished she had been the one to think of using a chair on him in that tournament; she wished 8-ball had hit him a lot harder.

"Then I demand you explain to me exactly what is going on about this ship, and let me judge for myself if you are telling the truth or not."

"Something got loose on the Starbase, and then got carried back here," Angelienia replied. "Something like those flying blobs on Deneva over a century ago, or the bugs that tried to take over the Federation before the War. The Mouse," she indicated Ella, "thinks that they can only take over telepaths, which is why we haven't been taken. Some of them have been using their hosts' powers to make people that they can't possess into slaves." She spat once. "Especially a Vulcan from Security - T'lan - she's gotten Commander Corgan and most of the Security personnel under her power with forced mind melds."

Curran cinched his eyes closed. Things just got infinitely tougher. "Why is the Captain in the security center?"

"He isn't a telepath," the Ktarian observed. "Maybe they're afraid that his mind is too strong, and that in resisting, he'll fight until he's useless to them. Maybe there's some other reason?" she shrugged. "Who knows what these things think like?"

"You'll just have to trust me, then, if you are asking that I trust you on a whim. I trust no one." He nudged the phaser towards Ella Grey, who was still slouched on the wall. "You need medical assistance. You're useless until healed."

Ella nodded, hating that he had a point. She still unsubtly rubbed the bridge of her nose with her middle finger.

"They will be making Admiral Proctor their first target. It would explain their apprehending me under false pretense. They need me for authentication to give them access to the bridge and weapons systems." Her lewd gesture... that was a symbol of procreation if he remembered his terminology. Now is not the time to procreate! If the rumors of her involvement with Krieghoff were true, that would be a dangerous triangle indeed.

"That's why we came and got you," Angelienia nodded. "So they don't have you. If they can't force the Captain to do what they want, and don't have you, then Proctor is useless to them." She looked at him for a moment, and then smirked. "You know that's useless, don't you?" She nodded towards the phaser.

"Should I shoot you to determine that for myself?" Without waiting for answer, he fired a stream of directed energy a few centimeters to her right - enough to show her he meant business, without actually incapacitating a possible ally. Except, the beam never went off. Only a subtle click as the deactivated weapon failed to ignite.

"The Mouse figured it out: T'lan got Commander Corgan to activate the anti-insurgency systems. All the phasers on the ship except those matched to specific individuals, are useless. They work for them, but not for us."

Ella frowned. "Stop calling me 'mouse'."

Ignoring the meaningless muttering of the other female, Kylar continued on his train of thought. "Have you determined if the overload packs are still working? He can disable firing pins, but not drain the energy from the packs." The Mouse was not a threat from what he could determine, but the Ktarian was. She'd give him a challenge if they came to blows.

"No," the Ktarian replied. "The Mouse would have to do that - not my field."

She looked at Ella. "Can you see what you can do with the Vulcan's phaser, Mouse? Just do it slowly so he doesn't get nervous."

"Sure." Ella said, ignoring that Angie had ignored her request. "Fine."

"I take it if we were unable to prevent my capture by their forces, my life would then be forfeit, would it not?" Kylar asked. "You would kill me to prevent that from occurring?"

"They need you to make the ship work," Angelienia nodded. "You and Proctor can't be in the same place under their control. I'd rather you weren't dead because we need you too..." she smiled ferally. "But if we have to choose between you and the rest of the galaxy, then you lose."

"I'm not concerned about my own life. Unlike most species in the Federation, I have no countenance against doing what is required of me. I'll do what I must. I'm curious if you would as well, considering your species penchant for honorless combat." Inducing chemical dependencies through a sight-mounted game from a safe distance was tactless and cowardly.

"About that phaser," Ella piped up, uninterested in their little showdown. "I need to be conscious to be useful so hand over the medkit."

"I have no medkit." He sheathed the phaser under the hem of his jacket behind him for safekeeping. He'd detonate the power pack himself if it came to it. He wouldn't trust anyone else to.

"I was talking to Angie." Ella snapped.

"And I was talking to you. What difference does it make so long as you get an answer?"

Ella glared at him but said nothing.

"Are there any others to assist us? I have no idea as to the extent of the takeover, but it would be prudent to judge they have well over 70% of the ship's personnel under their sway. We can't trust any telepaths." He paced over to the turbolift doors, sizing up their location. The lift had stopped when the battle had destroyed an access panel, jamming the carriage between decks.

"Dont forget the Trill." Ella said, rummaging in the box Angie had handed her. "They have a form of telepathy with their symbionts. I learned that the hard way."

Curran sneered as he didn't even deem her worthy of his attention. "Obviously." He was in the act of something far more important. Escape.

The engineer wanted to count to ten but she found her mind was occupied by the hundred different ways that she wanted to tell him he could do with his supposed superiority.

"So what do we do, then?" Angelienia asked as she switched the manacles to restrain the Vulcan. "This was as far as our plan went - what've you got?"

"Caching me somewhere won't stop them. They'll only boost their numbers while we sit in a corner waiting to die. We need to determine if Proctor is still alive." He looked up into the lift conduit above them. "Separating her and I is just as much a disadvantage for us as it is for them. Perhaps more so. We need her to over-ride command lockouts and enable environmental controls. At least then we can sedate the entire ship until we determine a method of separating these creatures from the bodies they've taken over."

"Okay, we just have to find Proctor, separate her from the bad guys, convince her we're not the bad guys, and then convince her to help you disable the rest ofthe crew." she straightened up and handed a medkit taken from the Vulcan to Ella. "Are you sure getting the Captain out of the Main Brig wouldn't be easier?"

"Possibly, but it would make little difference if they convince Admiral Proctor to lockout the system codes to everyone but themselves. Then we all lose regardless. Captain M'Kantu will just have to wait for another savior."

Ella set up the hypo and pushed it hard against her skin. She wished she had some food to go in with all this medication; it wasnt going to be helpful going up against the bad guys if she was high. But then again maybe that was what would make her take some ultimate step that her comrades were contemplation. Self-sacrifice may have been one of Starfleets higher callings but Ella had always known that she was too selfish for such nonsense.

There were people onboard though that might make such a notion worthwhile though. Maybe.

Ella loaded the hypo up again and then stored it in her pocket. She really couldn't fix the wound, or even dress it though, without help.

Shit.

"Would you please help me, Angeliena?" Ella said through gritted teeth.

"No time. Repair yourself on the way or stay behind." Curran was cold and clinical as he searched for a foothold to climb the shaft. Nimbly, he jumped straight up instead, grasping the lip of the emergency hatch and pulling himself up and over. His much lightened frame from the last year allowed him the ability to do so with little resistance.

Ella set her jaw, ignored the smirk or whatever that look was, that Angie threw her way and then turned the instrument on herself. It was going to be a shoddy job but engineers were used to using patches as a temporary fix. Still, she hoped that the Legate, after they all saved the ship of course, got shot in the gut so that she could stomp up and down on his bleeding wound. Bastard would probably enjoy it though.

He called down shortly after his boot twitched away. "You could always wait for your knight in tarnished armor to come along and whisk you away. I'm sure Krieghoff will be by shortly."

Ella flashed Angie a smile as she pulled herself up. "At least he recognizes that Victor is *my* knight."

"He's many things, but he's no knight, Mouse," Angelienia said with an odd expression in her eyes. Without further comment, she interlaced her fingers into a stirrup and nodded to Ella. "Time to leave."

"Before the Fall, Part 1"

By Admiral Olivia Proctor
Commander Sheridan/Azuul
Lieutenant JG T'lan/Mistress Commander
James Lionel Corgan
Former Ambassador Mika sh'Sonora

The computer core, a lone technological pillar surrounded by the ever present glow of its output devices, climbed high and squat through four decks like a silver monolith. Empty of its attendants and void of the mountains of data being cycled through the multiples of screens, its chromelike shell was bathed in red lights, tiny red alert signs projected onto its shining skin. The lights were low, and like everything else on the ship, was running on minimal. Enough to breathe, eat, and walk about without floating, barely a challenge for its twenty massive Mitsubishi Heavy Industries G40 800gqd processors.

The core, the brain of the ship, was alive. Its body was put asleep, ordered to rest by a Captain's order for 'coffee'. Her hums and throbs of sound were muted; very little computer core activity silenced the usual noises of its full processing power.

The warp core was overrated. The computer core was a thing of beauty, for without it the ship was a floating hulk, barely able to move under the faint tugs of gravity by distant stars and a rotating galaxy. She had an awe inspiring presence and the ability to sift through information and multitask so well that even her creators couldn't even imagine it in human terms. A big shining, powerful beauty.

Asleep, waiting to wake up.

The first light of a phaser rifle's underlight attachment shone into the mutely lit computer core area, blotting out one of the many reflected red alert patches. It moved slightly, decreasing in size and steadying itself as caution was let slowly go.

A man in security uniform watched the exits, training his light through the technological brain of the ship. Waving an all clear, he beckoned others to follow. Shuffling footsteps, trained to be rhythmic and muffled like a hasty jog, tromped the floor as a squad of security officers surrounded the computer core, kneeling and aiming their rifles at exits and ledges.

"Clear!" Cried out an echo of an officer.

=/\="Go in..."=/\=

With the area secured, the important members of the party could arrive. First was a harried man, bathed in a flush red glow, his immaculately combed blonde hair now a ratted mess from stress, his grey eyes darting as if watching for weakness in his defense. He was not armed with a rifle, but a more humble Type II and a tricorder, scanning and blipping the area. Not a trace of lifesigns but his own, his men, and his charges.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and not because he succeeded in his mission. There was nobody that interfered, or tried to kill. He was not forced to lay a hostile hand on anyone. The relief was washed over by a roiling sickness, as if undermined by guilt. It was the Mistress again. He tried to recompose himself.

"Admiral, we're here, and the place is secure. Do what you must." James Corgan said gravelly.

Coming in behind the security contingent was a small squad of personnel, with their mark set inside the circle of protectors. Olivia Proctor, her head held high and haughty, pushed aside the point guard pair and to the forefront of the array of computer terminals lain out before her.

"Where is the Legate? I need him for complete access to the core."

James didn't have an answer for the admiral. Locating personnel came down to the primitive device known as the mark 1 eyeball, and literally scanning the entire crew with it. He cocked his mind to hear from Mistress T'lan, but felt none of her malevolent presence.

Further away, out of sight of the Admiral and away from the core room, T'lan plotted. =/\="Do you know, Azuul?"=/\=

The Commander host perked with the unexpected soothing pleasure her presence washed over him. It was easy to see how she had been able to bend the others to her will. =/\="No. I have been searching in harmony for him, to no avail."=/\=

T'lan let out an exasperated sigh, and while keeping out of sight, took a peek into the computer room. None of the sentries were alarmed by her presence; they were all under her control and paid her no mind. ~"Corgan! Give the blue blooded bitch a surly response, something typical of you in your sourest moods..."~

"How in the great flaming f**k should I know?!" Corgan responded on cue, a classic rant that Mistress found more than suitable, "We have no computers, no way to locate anyone... hell, Legate Curran could have ditched his scaly ass in the nearest f**king black hole for all I care! All I do know is that I have whatever paltry few not brainzapped out there risking their lives and souls to find him! So sit tight and do what you can in the interim while I try to protect your ass, sir." He added the last bit with a strain in his voice, as if he wanted to swallow his entire speech into his gullet.

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner! Obey the rules and regulations of the uniform you wear, Mister, or I shall find someone who will."

T'lan mused with mirth, ~"Maybe, dear James, I see how much it will take to have you dishonorably discharged with your foul mouth alone. Wouldn't that be amusing, Azuul?"~

"Oh... god f**king dammit." Corgan snarled, turning away from the admiral, "I can't do much here. I'm going back on watch."

She pursed her cinched lips in irritation. "How do you expect me to take control of a Galaxy Class III Heavy Cruiser with just my credentials? I have limited access to the ship emergency systems, but without the damned protocol officer, I have no chance of removing the lockouts on the armament systems or fighter bays."

"Can you over-ride the Main Bridge lockouts? Initialize the computer core, Admiral?" Sheridan/Azuul pressed behind her, his eyes never leaving her back. Not long now and he would be rid of her, the bitch's heart beating in his hand as he watched her slowly die at the end of his torture. He imagined sucking the meat off her fingers as she begged for mercy. His mouth watered.

~"Ugh... how unrefined."~ Mistress T'lan judged, imagining to Azuul what real torture was like. Mental fires like miniaturized supernovae, nightmares of a thousand sleepless nights, traumas condensed into nanoseconds and replayed over and over, disconnection of certain sections of the brain while others overacted... her list was just beginning.

~Maybe so, 'Mistress', but when it comes to this one, call me selfish. She needs a personal touch after we're done with her. Anyone else...~ He transmitted equal images of horror. Dissection of appendages and organs designed to prevent death but extend life, removing their eyelids to give them uninterrupted view of their families and brethren fed to the Kind. Tapping into their personal phobias and sending them into oblivion after experiencing wave upon wave of their own nightmares. Not as immediate as T'lan's, but stretched out and relished with the taste of fear and death for as long as possible.

"Not without Curran. The bridge has too many key access points in the core and ship systems. I can over-ride bulkhead controls to open up emergency points, but security fields are in place at bridge access." She brushed her hands over the terminal, entering security commands as she moved through system after system. The panel lit up green in one section as she did.

"I've been able to open access to Engineering. We can run basic ship systems and command from there." She shook her head. "Damn Protocol Officers. Maybe we could get lucky and the invasive parties could kill him. That would be nice."

"Yeah... that would be great. Then we'd all be f**ked, ma'am." Corgan snapped sarcastically, "I know the guy, and as much as an asshole as he is, he's reliable. We need him."

~"We need him."~ T'lan repeated, ~"There are other psychics here. They can scan for his mind, and find him quickly. Know of any, Azuul?"~

~"A Vulcan in security." His eyes still closed, Azuul flowed along the conduits of psychic energy to locate the being in the ship's brig. ~Deck 17 security center."~

"Admiral, scan for any data access by the Legate. Any logs or movements. We may be able to have an idea as to where he is destined."

Proctor keyed in the search parameters on the working terminal. After a lag of a tense minute on the machines, a shortlist of results had been found.

"Got him. He'd attempted communications with the Security Center on Deck 17." Azuul glanced to T'Lan and allowed himself a small smile. It was made to be. Azuul communed with the Vulcan on Deck 17, ordering him to search for the Legate on that deck. "Logs show he requested information on imprisoned personnel. An earlier interaction with the turbolift computer shoed he tried to access the Main Bridge but was denied."

"Did he give his authorization codes?" Sheridan tried not to rush to the console and see for himself.

"No. He used a generic voiceprint ID. It can't be replicated by the system. Commander... whoever you are, order your men to apprehend him to be brought here. Always get a woman to do a man's job. God knows you need it."

"Yeah.... heh heh..." Corgan contained his venemous sarcasm to an amiable, nervous laugh, rolling his eyes and sighing, "...never thought to do THAT one before."

T'lan barely contained her mirth, ~"How beautifully her confidence builds up before the fall."~

In his enthralled state, James barely had feelings to hide. His concern was for Curran, and though he hoped the Legate escaped and had enough sense to leave the ship, his feelings were muffled by T'lan's mental controls.

T'lan, however, had no such luxury. If Curran had contact with security, there was a chance that he knew about the Dithparu infiltration of the department. There were also other stragglers that may have tipped him off, and it was a prospect she did not like very much. ~"Assume the worse, Azuul. Legate Curran is not your average corporeal. My host would say that the odds of his finding out about our plan is seventy three point five two percent."~

~"It will make no difference in the end scheme of things. He is but one person against an army.~

~"All is not lost."~ Mistress T'lan thought, ~"We are long lived. If we need to, we can reprogram the ship's computer core ourselves. That is the worse case scenario. At best, there is another person with the access to this ship. I can sense it."~

Sheridan was piqued. ~"How do you know this?"~

She thought matter of factly, ~"One of my thralls is hiding a secret. It is taking alot of willpower. I can feel the corporeal's strain to hold back."~

~Then break it. We have plenty of thralls. If one holds the key to our expansion, take it!~

~"Give me a moment."~ T'lan thought, ~"I can narrow it down. Stay here, James."~

"Admiral, may I suggest a plan of action?" The bowed back of the woman rippled as she continued to decode access levels.

"Does it involve that Security officer doing what he's told and getting me the Legate?" She cricked her neck in the general direction of Corgan, who still hadn't left.

Corgan was within an inch of warning the Admiral, telling her to run. He felt Azuul and T'lan's presence overwhelming what little free will he had left. The urge to scream run had given away. What little was left to hold back was barely holding on. "Curran may have been compromised. If he has had free reign of the ship, there is no way of telling if he has been turned. Besides, I have security teams on it. You can trust them to do their job."

She spun unexpectedly and waved a stiff finger in Corgan's face. "Then take whatever measures required getting him here. So long as I have his voice capable of mumbling an access code, I don't care if he's here in parts. The ship security takes precedence over everything else."

Corgan shuttered. Something was wrong! The Dithparu were being more invasive. They wanted something, urged it, begged and cajoled, then demanded bluntly. The computer core...

The revelation bowled him over, ringing alarm bells and coming out of hiding in his psyche. ~"Oh shit! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! RUN!"~ The one thought attracted the Dithparu, and their psychic questioning instantly focused. The need to scream it choked down as his vision turned red.

~"Someone else can do this?"~ T'lan asked, savouring James delicious panic, ~"Stay here!"~

"Commander! Why are you standing there? I need nothing else from you and time is wasting! Bring me the Legate, or I'll find someone else who can. You have five seconds to get your ass out that door before I bust you down to Waste Management maintenance!"

"Admiral, hurry! I'll take care of the personnel if the Commander cannot. Complete the authentication. As you have so aptly stated, time is of the essence." Ignoring protocol in awaiting an approval, Sheridan turned her back to the controls. 'Livia hesitated in suspicion, but a key compliment on her skills and prowess distracted her from the moment and back to the task.

~"Heel, you dog!"~ T'lan hideously screamed. Corgan's knees buckled as he fell to the floor, palms down and sweat beading off his chin. ~"WHO IS IT?! Someone is holding a secret here! WHO?!"~

"Admiral... I am currently unfit for duty. Do whatever the f**k you like... but I can't go out there." Corgan said through strained teeth. "...because... ahhhhh.... ghhhh..."

"What was that, Commander?" The burly woman pushed Sheridan aside to converge on Corgan.

At once, a co-ordinated effort far beyond individual mind's ability, the impromptu security squad trained their rifles at James Corgan's body. He felt rippling waves of nausea and pain course through him, felt the nightmares of thousands of years of suffering in the expanse of a second, felt his skin burn, his flesh violate. All at once, it was too much for him to bear. The rest of his body fell to the floor, tightened up, and refused to come out of its fetal position.

"Wait! Wait!" The Admiral threw up her hands in tandem with her attempt at a commanding tone. It more came out patronizing.

The assault washed over him, then subsided. A smattering of voices from the outside came. "He's Dithparu." They accused, T'lan's orders, not their own opinion.

"Damn her..." James croaked.

"What is the matter with this person? He is hardly fit for duty, talking to himself. Damn who? Who is he talking about?"

~"Found her..."~ T'lan mocked.

Out of the squad, one person stepped forward. She held her rifle oddly, as if unpractised, but her steps were fluid and graceful like a dancer. Shorter than anyone by a head, she still held a presence like a hurricane's eye; calm amidst chaos. Sure of herself, she stepped forward and addressed the Admiral, her voice not her own, a well acted puppet.

"Esteemed Admiral." Mika introduced in her most diplomatic guise, "I am Mikaiu z'Aknafein sh'Son'ra, Federation Diplomatic Corp, retired. Though I was discharged in scandal, I have in my possession special security clearance common to all Diplomatic Corp members of Ambassador ranking or higher. I can activate this ship for you, if you will allow it."

Olivia Proctor's hand dropped as she drank in the Andorian soldier-but-not-soldier. She seemed very much out of place amongst the sinewy patrol who absolutely breathed discipline. Now, she knew why.

"I have heard of you. You were assigned to the Gryphon Coalition, and failed miserably. You washed out, an embarrassment to the Corps. I doubt very much your clearance is still active."

Mika didn't get phased, didn't blink. The Gryphon Incident, a sore spot on her otherwise accomplished life, the beginning of her own downward spiral to obscurity, the thought able to trigger near legendary feats of Andorian rage that brought her closer to being like her own people... never bothered her while enthralled.

She said cooly, "Try me. Hands on the console. This code must be synchronized."

Resting her fingers on the console, Mika waited for the admiral. When both took their positions, the code was entered.

"I doubt this will work, but since we still have to wait for a proper Liaison Officer, I might as well pass the time. Nothing more is to be done in the meantime." Pausing to take in a breath, she initiated the over-ride protocols.

"Computer, enter the following re-activation code. Proctor, Olivia, Rear Admiral, Starfleet. Delta-delta-two-four-beta-beta-zero-two-seven-epsilon."

[Code authenticated]

"Deactivate command codes for M'Kantu, Daren R, Commanding Officer of the USS Galaxy. Transfer to Proctor, Olivia T. and give me a status on security and data access levels."

[Command codes transferred to Proctor, Olivia T. Secondary systems accessible. Primaries offline. Awaiting input codes from eligible Federation Officer Curran, Kylar.]

"Deactivate Curran, Kylar."

[Unable to comply. No other active Federation personnel are on board the USS Galaxy.] Proctor bade the Andorian forward with a waved hand.

Mika was next. She said like stone, "sh'Son'ra, Mikaiu, Ambassador, Federation Diplomatic Corp. Special order 131. Romeo, lima, foxtrot. Enter."

[Special Order 131 recognized. Unable to comply. Clearance has been deactivated.]

"Computer," The Admiral stepped forward again, her lips pursed. This would be it, if it worked. "Re-activate sh'Son'ra, Mikaiu. Field appointment to acting Ambassador with all due honors and privileges capable of her status."

The computer drew silent, working in the background.

[Status of sh'Son'ra, Mikaiu, re-activated. Do you still wish to de-activate Curran, Kylar?]

Proctor smiled, shaking a fist in victory. She had beaten the damn Kelvan at his own game. She doubted very much he would have been this smart and defeated the invaders. She had saved the ship, not him!

"Yes, computer. Continue the order."

[Curran, Kylar, has been deactivated. sh'Son'ra, Mikaiu is activated as Federation Officer stationed on USS Galaxy.]

"Computer, bring primary systems online and give me a status report."

[External weapons systems offline and inactive. Internal weapons systems offline and inactive. Warp systems offline and inactive. Impulse engines at minimal power. Environmental controls online and active. Internal defense network partially active. Shuttle bay systems online but inactive. Communications offline and inactive. Sensors online but inactive. Bridge access offline and inactive. Core access minimal. Diagnostics underway.]

Blankly, Mika commented, "The ship is yours, Admiral. Congratulations. We are successful."

To that, T'lan could barely suppress her glee. The computer slowly chewed through its diagnostics; she watched the list of systems slowly recheck themselves. Soon the ship would be active. Soon the ship would be theirs.

~"Good work..."~ Mistress crooned on her balcony perch, above the others and atop the highest level of the computer core. ~"Bring him in."~

"And The Walls.. Come Crumbling Down.. "

Major Corran Rex And all his past hosts

------------------ The Astral Plane ------------------

The Wall came down.

Behind that wall, there was something Corran didn't expect. Something he couldn't possibly have ever suspected, and something that would forever alter his life.

His rational mind realized, upon seeing what the wall had revealed, that it had been a very sophisticated memory block. One of the most sophisticated ever utilized. The cracks in it's foundation had showed it's age, in a very metaphorical sense.

And what were Trills if not specialists in dealing with memories?

"Especially repressing the bad ones." he muttered to himself as he took stock of what his nonexistent eyes (for he had no body in the astral plane. In this realm of thought, everything was subjective, but the mind translated i into familiar imagery to process the information appropriately.)

Behind the wall had been, by his count, at least twenty-five, maybe thirty more representation of Trills. Old, young, men, women. All had the distinctive spot patterns of his race, and their presence here, in the mind that he shared with the symbiont Rex, meant one simple thing:

He was far older than he knew. These were pasts hosts. Almost fifteen hundred years worth, placing his age somewhere around...

"2,137 years, by the way the Trills measure time." Came a new - but very familiar voice.

Corran turned to face a new figure, one in the form of a very old man - but who still had the sparkle of a rascally youth in his eyes.

"Rex?" he asked, trying to take all of this in.

The "man" - though he wasn't a man, really, he was the embodiment of the two-thousand year old slug in Corran's gut - nodded. "I am the sum total of all the hosts that I have ever had, whole again for the first time in five centuries. For forty-three lives I've walked the world. I've seen things most could only begin to imagine - as you're starting to realize now.

And it was true. Though the personalities of Rex were the most distinct here, he still had access to the knowledge of his previous hosts. And with the memories of an additional thirty-one lives now added to that, the flood of information was almost overwhelming. Lives passed before his eyes in a heartbeat, people he'd never known, never seen, but paradoxically knew as intimately as possible.

It was like being joined all over again.

It was a hell of a lot to sort through. He could..

"Use a hand, yes." Rex confirmed. "That's why I'm here, to help you - help us through this."

"What happened? Why were those memories blocked?"

"Because of them." the symbiont said simply.

"Them?" Corran asked, his confusion clear. "Wait, you mean, the Dithparu?"

"Yes." Rex said, his expression going dark. "Eight hundred years ago, I was the Captain of a Trill vessel during our first expansionist period, back before the Grounding, we we purposefully destroyed all our warp capabilities. We encountered them, and it was.. chaos. Our kind is especially susceptible to their control. The mind of a Trill is naturally capable of containing many minds, something almost unknown to other species in the galaxy. To the Dithparu, we were .. "

"An all you can eat buffet."

That brought a small , amused snort. "Exactly so. The memories were so traumatic that I returned to the symbiont pools for almost three centuries. Our people grounded themselves, removing ourselves from the dangers of space travel. But after three hundred years, still, I could not be coaxed out of the pools. Nor could I bring myself to go down and join the Old Ones, to ensure our knowledge lived forever. I was.. dying."

"So the Guardians blocked the memories of your previous hosts." Corran filled in, starting to remember now. "In the hope our mind would eventually heal enough to remember who we are."

"Son of a bitch!" Corran cursed, making another realization. "That means my T'Rex's Syndrome - it's not a degenerative disease at all! I'm not crazy, this memory block's just been slowly fading, weakening our bond."

""Yes, what Esanza labeled as T'Rex's syndrome is the eventually side-effect of long-term memory blockage." Rex confirmed.

A new horror dawned on Corran with that realization. "But there's.. hundreds of joined Trill who suffer from this. That's.. "

"Of anyone, Corran, you should know how we Trill like our secrets."

"Ain't that the truth." he muttered, rubbing the non-existent bridge of his non-existent nose. "And your - our - knowledge was so important because if we ever encountered the Dithparu gain, like, now.."

"Then We know how to defeat them." Rex confirmed, and smiled broadly.

Corran returned it. "Then what the hell are we waiting for?"

------------------

The Wall came down.

This time, it was the larger wall, the one the Dithparu had used to make Corran and all the aspects of Rex a prisoner in his own body. On the other side of it were the mental representations of a half-dozen Dithparu, appearing to the Trill's imagination-infused perceptions as the wraith-like beings of Tirll myth, all misty and black-shrouded.

Their red eyes glowed, but Corran had an army at his back.

He had Rex.

They were many, and for the first time in five centuries, they were One.

The Dithparu didn't stand a chance.

------------------------------
The Physical Plane
USS Galaxy,
"Fighter Country"
Supply Closet 425-B
Deck Forty-One
------------------------------

Corran Rex opened his eyes. The Dithparu were gone. his mind was hole but his shoulder - and his head, where Teyri had struck him - hurt like hell.

Corran's bond to his symbiont was strong and vibrant. No longer did it feel tenuous, as though he were barely holding on. After having thought for so long that this would be his last life, after having made his peace with that, in the space of a day, the entirety of his world had changed.

He was cured, he was whole. He wasn't crazy anymore.

It was a hell of a thing.

~Well, I wouldn't say you're not crazy.~ came the voice of Vorrin, floating in his mind.

Corran frowned. "Vorrin, we fixed this. I shouldn't be hearing your voice anymore."

~Maybe not, kid.~ Vorrin 'said', and gave the mental impression of a shrug. ~ But then, I'm persistent like that. Think of me as your conscience.~

"If you're my conscience, I'm in a hell of a lot of trouble." Corran said under his breath. And though he'd never admit it.. he was glad the old smuggler hadn't completely absorbed into his consciousness. It was.. comforting. In a way. In very, very strange way.

~Aw, now you're getting soft on me, Kid.~

Of course, it could also get old very, very quickly.

~Shut up, Vorrin.~ he thought by reflex.

Then he started really looking around at his surroundings, at the supply closet that Teyri had locked him - no, not him, the Dithparu - in when he'd attacked her. There did not appear, first off, to be any way out.

"Well, shit."

"Awakening" - Part V

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Ensign Artim, Medical Officer

NPC's:
Taru, Weyri DS5 Survivor

Appearances:
Rayne Sutea (injured), Marine

Le'on Khatrowren (injured), Security Officer

*****

"The two are contained." Taru's breath was coming in short wheezes, rasping. "Now, take me to the prison. We must hurry. They're coming. They know I'm here."

Artim grabbed up his gear and weapon and stood in front of the door. The Miran still wasn't quite clear on what exactly this Taru's plan was or if he

was even able to be trusted. However, he had saved Rena for starters and seemed to have somehow sucked the...things out of Nara. When this was over, Artim would need to have a long chat with this Taru. However, it seemed urgent that they get to this...prison, whatever it was.

"Well, I'm ready to go and I presume you expect a fight. Just one problem, where is this prison you speak of and once there what exactly is the plan. Saul, you know what he's talking about?" Artim said, looking up at both the alien and the tactical officer.

["He talks of the structure attached to DS5."]

Having managed to stand up and remain stable, Saul once more used a PADD as a text-to-voice translator.

Taru, leaning slightly on Saul's arm, nodded. "Yes, the celestial object the station crew towed in. That is... was their prison. Inside, there is a mask. I need to get to it. It is the key to their imprisonment."

Saul slanted his eyes toward Rayne. The Echani lay unconscious on one of the bio-beds. Her delicate face seemed disturbed, and for a moment Saul was concerned that she may have been possessed in her sleep. However, Taru would

probably know if she had, wouldn't he?

["Someone should remain to guard the wounded."], Saul suggested.

"It won't matter how many people are guarding her. If we don't deal with that object, we're all dead, and so is anyone that comes in contact with your ship if they succeed in taking it."

Saul shook his head. He was still shivering, and the haze of agony didn't begin to dissolve, but he could think clearly enough to realize that no matter how many guards will be posted, they could not protect Rayne from the

threat of mental attacks.

But he still had to struggle with the idea of leaving her behind. And even worse, leaving Nara. He secretly wanted to remain behind with both.

"They won't be coming here to her. It's me they want.", Taru added, noticing

Saul's hesitation.

["Why?"], Saul wrote quickly on the PADD.

Taru's gaze softened to one of an old man sharing a heartfelt story with a grandson he would never have.

"Because it is the way things are. It is the way it has to be. Some love, some marry, some die... for what they believe in. Some don't."

The Tactical chief frowned. He did not understand how this was related, but talks about death weren't his cup of tea; Unless it was Krieghoff-gossip, of course.

"Nevertheless, I will stay." Faces turned back and down. Le'on, limping on one leg and using his rifle as a crutch, was awake and resolute. "I'm useless out there, anyhow. I'll just slow you down. At least, here, I can do my job for one person. Or anyone else who needs to stay." Roswell was also resting upon one of the cleared biobeds. It was a sobering thought of what could happen, as she was outlined by a pool of dried and caked blood from an unknown victim.

Artim was a bit shocked, but hardly surprised the wounded Caitian took up the role of guarding the wounded while they take out the Dithparu. Taking a hypospray from his medkit, he tossed it to Le'on as he headed for the door.

"Very well, there's something for the pain and to make sure the bone doesn't get any more injured. I'll set it when we get back." "We need to leave. NOW." The rhythmic sounds of the broken station were broken by new sounds. Tapping, distant voices, shadows flitting on the senses. "I can feel them. They're trying to break through my defenses." Without waiting on anyone's response, the taller Weyri pushed himself off Bental and rushed out the door with renewed strength, leaving the others behind.

Saul exchanged glances with Counselor Dallas and Doctor Artim. He signaled with his hand that he's going to follow Taru.

"Right behind you", Artim said running as fast as he could after the alien. Having short legs was a problem here, but he managed to keep up decently. It didn't take long for them to run into a bunch of possessed crewmembers... more of them there were good guys. Artim still didn't know who this alien was or what he was going to do, but he did know that there really wasn't another plan. Once they reached a defensible position on the promenade, Artim leveled his carbine at the oncoming aggressors, who did appear to beelining right for the alien exactly as he'd said. To his left, Saul raised his rifle as well, and already his phaser rifle flashed stunning beams toward the ranks of the enemy. Artim took up a firing position and yelled to the alien and Saul,

"You two go on, we'll hold them off. I'll get there as soon as I can.", the boy-doctor shouted as his phaser carbine, which was set on setting 3 leaped to life. Two possessed crewmen, a Vulcan and a Lurian from the looks of them were down with the first few shots, but there were still too many. Thus, he started firing two or three shots and then retreating down the promenade, looking for a more defensible position.

Taru had moved on ahead of the others. Hearing the sounds of battle behind him, he was glad to have done so. There wasn't time to stop and free each telepath on his way to where he needed to go. It would only weaken him in the end.

He knew the spirits were homing in on him, but there was nothing he could do. All he could hope to accomplish was to assimilate the psychic powers of all those he had freed over the chase of the Dithparu at the station and eliminate them once and for all. He needed all the strength he could muster, but for each person he freed, it took a little more of his life energy with it. He'd grown weak over time, and his age was not helping any. Weyri don't normally live as long as he had, but he was not pure of blood.

Even though, he needed to accomplish this task, regardless. He couldn't take any more souls in. The next one could end up killing him.

Wisping through the dark hallways of the station, he passed by more victims.

He bade them a silent farewell in his passing, but did not stop to tend to last minute passages for them as he normally would. He also passed living dead - animated souls the Dithparu had taken. Braindead creatures that only

lived through the strength of will the beings brought. They would shuffle along, desperately reaching out to take him. He felt their pushing on his mental barriers as he physically pushed them out of the way.

He also passed sections with living personnel securing perimeters, or searching. He couldn't tell which, or even if they were possessed of not, nor did he stop to find out. He had to push on. There were too many.

He stopped at a flickering map guide at a junction, moving a finger over the panel to refresh his direction. Everything was so much more different than the last time he had walked these corridors. It felt so long ago, and perhaps it was.

He heard the familiar shuffling behind him of the living dead, and moved on.

The running firefight on the promenade continued, though for awhile Artim did manage to find a descently defensible position behind some debris near the bar where he'd met Pilot Lansky. Much to his chagrin, the body of the young betazoid petty officer he'd beaten at chess was lying just on the other side of the door. Pity, she might have been an interesting second date. After downing a couple more possessed officers, he had to peel off again and set off full speed for the hanger. After several more minutes, or hours... time was losing its effect on him...

he finally emerged in the outer promenade to the docking ring. The hangar was not far away now. He could feel the pulsations of the Dithparu.

Standing at an opening into the demolished promenade deck, Taru was halted by the wave upon wave of psionic energies emanating from the flock of beings that stood opposing him.

This was going to be a problem.

["Taru"]

The Weyri looked back, at the figure which just staggered out of the corridor's shadows. The one called Saul is rather persistent, he thought.

"You should not have come, Saul Bental. You have a latent psionic ability that these Dithparu will take from you whether you know so or not. I think you may know this from the woman you dare not give your heart to. Would you have the one you love live on without you?" "Nonsense.", Saul shot back the first thing that came to mind. He was Human; a proud Human. He didn't have anything to do with that telepathy mumbo-jumbo; He left that job to sexy female aliens. "I don't have any intentions of dying, and that's why I'm remaining here to watch your back.", He stated with his own hushed voice. It was barely decipherable, but he was too irritated and anxious to start writing on the PADD. "If you don't succeed, Taru, everyone will die anyway."

"Then we shall face them together. I would have your assistance."

"There you two are." Artim said panting as he made it into the room as he fired a phaser shot over his shoulder. "Anything I can do other then keep these things off you a bit longer?" ["Keep him alive."], Saul clicked quickly. It amazed him that someone who looked ten years younger than him just emerged out of a firefight, victorious. In the heat of things, the fact that the doctor appeared so young slipped Saul's mind up until now. "Thank you for your belief in my mission, but I ask that you think of yourselves equally."

Taru took Saul's hand, and turned it upright to place against his own weathered palm. Moments later, an electrical charge shivered through the two of them as the Weyri absorbed Saul's kinetic energies. It wasn't much the human had, and therefore not enough to drain the telepath of any more valuable life. At any rate, his temples grew a touch greyer as the transfer flowed into him.

Behind them, in the promenade, the dozen or so beings taken over by Dithparu clipped into a run. Some fired phasers into the alcove where the three had hid, but were met with nothing. Taru, Saul and Artim were no longer there.

"Maelstrom"

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer
Ensign Artim, Medical Officer

NPC's:
Taru, Weyri DS5 Survivor

Appearances:
Rayne Sutea (injured), Marine

Le'on Khatrowren (injured), Security Officer

Inside the niche, Taru had used the excess energies from Saul to shield them from the spirits who would take their lives. Even the Weyri would not be able to withstand an onslaught of so many at once. The physical attack would batter him into unconsciousness, where he would not be able to defend himself adequately for any length of time. Bental and Artim would be torn to pieces, he was sure.

They rushed by, shouting at each other, where they split up. Some down the corridor where he knew the others were. Saul looked to him with alarm, but the Weyri shook his head. "We must hurry. Only one thing will save them now." Saul's eyes widened. More and more, this far-fetched attempt to stop the Dithparu became a suicide mission. He was not going to die. No way. He would rather remain locked in the closet and let the others win the fight for him. For the millionth time since he reached Deep Space 5, he sent an uncertain glance toward the short Medical Officer. Why couldn't the Miran have this latent-psycho-something-or-whatever? ["Must be another way."], Saul quickly clicked.

"Somehow I doubt it", Artim said semi-sarcastically and semi-hopelessly. He knew this was going to be painful for Saul and probably the other telepaths, but probably less so then being tore to shreds...or having these things spread further.

Ignoring the two men, the Weyri rushed into the promenade, dodging debris and corpses as he reached the bulkhead door of the hangar bay that housed the object. Touching a bejeweled hand to the door, he closed his eyes as Saul and Artim kept watch.

"There will be some resistance. There are many more in there." He waved an arm to his right, where a pair of security personnel lay in a clump against a wall. One's face was burned by phaserfire, the other had his throat ripped out. Burned man's hands were dark red. Even as he lay dying, he still fed on the other.

"They have weapons. Be sure to set them on a strong stun setting. We may be able to save the hosts yet."

["Maximum stun."], Saul's PADD declared. Not that there was any need. He and Artim quickly adjusted their weapons, and recharged the clips. It was at that moment that Saul did something he didn't do since he was six years old. Not during the rough time on Utrecht, not during his flight from there to Earth, not during the battle of Havras or the rescue mission on Trill. He prayed. "Shma Israel adonai eloheinoo adonai ehad." The shma call is the Jewish cry for help; It is a request for the gates of heavens to be open, and for the only lord, Elohim, to hear the plea. Saul Bental wasn't a believer. He had enough Kippah-wearing cousins to take care of the PR with god. But it felt the right thing to do, and some godly assistance wouldn't hurt in the forsaken devil's lair they were about to breach.

Once Bental and Artim had the weapons in hand, Taru shook his head as one was offered to him. "I have my own weapons. I do not know how to fire those, anyhow." ["Silver pistol."], Saul nodded with agreement. Taru bowed his head slightly, eyes closed in response. Taru touched the terminal lock, causing the door to roll back on its hinges. Within, encircling the open entrance to the object, were five beings of various species. One of the phasers lanced out, but not at the beings. Taru did not have to turn around. He knew there were more coming from behind.

Artim had seen them too, but too late totally escape harm. One of the beams tore through his shoulder as he tried to twist out of the way. The Miran dropped to the ground in pain, but still managed to get a shot off towards the one of the people coming from behind.

"Taru, I can't hold them. Whatever you're going to do you better do it now!" Artim shouted as he slumped against the wall.

Taru felt the terrible psychic onslaught of those in front and behind. There were powerful beings in the area. His head throbbed and pulsated. Tendons stood out on his neck and his breathing grew rasp. He dropped to his knees as phaserfire shot out around him. His name may have been called, but he could not hear against the harmony overcrowding his senses. Even those that he had taken in - those he had not yet sent away into oblivion - were tearing at his barriers.

Again, as he had in stasis, he fell into the dreamlike trance he always went to when he needed to gather his thoughts and focus his powers. This time, though, instead of a sea of black to surf upon under a peaceful cloud cover and blue skies, he was surrounded by darkness. Snakes slithered out of the ebon wall, biting at the feet that couldn't be bitten before. Grasping him, smothering him, enveloping him. He felt everything ebb away.

A face, vile and full of rage, flew out of the darkness, hissing and snapping at him. He was unable to move.

"Mine! Mine! Mine! You killed our brethren! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

"No... you... can't..." With every ounce of willpower he could muster, Taru brought forth the epitomy of the psychic energies he had harnessed from all those he had 'saved', combined it with the crushing might of the Dithparu's energies into a whirlwind of cataclysmic proportions. It took everything he had to control it with any sense of purpose.

In the real world, Taru had collapsed to his knees, his head in his hands. Garish blood poured from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, down between his fingers. Tendons popped from his neck and face, blue vessels visible as they pounded through his arteries with a juggernaut of pressure. Capillaries burst under his skin, giving the waxy look an eerie splotchy look.

All the possessed crew that had converged on him and the two desperate Starfleet officers had halted in their tracks, dropping to the floor writhing. Some had gripped their heads, others their bellies, some were just shaking convulsively. All were incapacitated. Saul exhaled deeply. He was with his back to the wall, and with the last obstacle between him and the possessed crewmen just vaporized. He raised his head upwards, although he knew very well that there was no up in space, just as he knew that there was no proof of god. "Thanks.", He murmured, nonetheless. Only then did he see Taru.

"What the..." those were the only words Artim could say as he looked at the alien in his, trance for lack of a better word. He finally lowered his phaser and just watched.

Taru no longer was aware of anyone around him, touching or not. He was a maelstrom of pure will, ravaging the spirits around him in a turmoil of monolithic proportions. His energy was rapidly burning out, and he knew it wouldn't be enough. He could feel others on the fringe, but not edging any closer, knowing what was happening. He hadn't had enough time to prepare.

He twisted the storm of thought into one condensed ball of energy. He moulded it, collapsing and expanding as needed to find the right equation for one last action.

When he couldn't contain the energy any longer, he 'dropped' it.

Taru's body snapped back, his arms flying behind and down as his head jerked up. Bright light flared out from within his eye sockets, nostrils, and open mouth in a silent scream. Brilliance on the factor of the sun burned out from him, expanding out in a spectrum of blazing color. His entire upper torso became bathed in a torrent so spectacular, anyone caught looking directly at it was blinded.

He became a pulsing beacon, a roar ever-increasing, with its incandescence radiating outward in an ever-growing sphere that encompassed all it touched. It reached out beyond the boundaries of the station, feeding off the energies of telepaths everywhere. It drew on those energies, pulling them back into the hurricane of mental thought on the hangar deck and within Taru to further add fuel to the fire he stoked.

At once, it erupted, tearing through everything and everyone in its way.

It passed through all the souls on the station, through the structure, out into space, through the Vanguard craft that may have been patrolling, through the debris field, through the USS Galaxy. It left no place unaffected.

The wave of energy passed through them all, and kept on, until finally dying out a short distance radially from the source.

Taru's charred remains stood transfixed in an obscene gesture of worship. His hands were outstretched to the heavens, the coal remains of his features staring upward with eyeless sockets.

His arms broke off to shatter on the deck in a flurry of ashes, his body crumbling shortly behind. The Tactical chief closed his eyes. He stood up slowly, ignorant of the crumbling corpse and the Medical officer. Each step he took required effort and concentration, but he made them. One, then two, then three. And then he was standing by the door to the structure. He looked upwards, at the alien craving above the entrance, at the jagged edges of the rock pretrouding from the wall. He began pulling the door. It was difficult at first, but then it suddenlly began to move. Someone was standing besides him and was helping him, Saul realized.

Artim had managed to make it to the door and began pulling at it with his uninjured arm. How he managed he wasn't sure, but he had and he wasn't going to dwell on it. He had to get out of here...

The door closed with a thud. Saul and Artim welded the doorway's frame, sealing it. The sound of the closing door echoed in the large hall for what seemed to be forever, even after the door was completly sealed.

But when the echo faded, there was silence. The roar of the energies had subsided, and no trace of the Dithparu remained. All of the possessed lay unconscious on the deck, some twitching. The scene was the same everywhere the pulse had passed through.

But was it over? Only time will tell.

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