*****

"Animal"

Corporal Falkor Vox
Tactical Specialist/Heavy Gunner

Lieutenant Nieca Rey'ol
Assistant Chief Tactical Officer

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Cry wolf, given mouth to mouth

Like a movin' heartbeat, in the witching hour

I'm runnin' with the wind, a shadow in the dust

And like the drivin' rain, like the restless run

I never sleep

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== DECK 10: Forward Lounge ==

He only came at night, and for good reason.

Most of the herbivores, and even many of the omnivores, didn't particularly have the stomach to watch one of his kind feed. It wasn't as messy as the rituals employed by a Gorn or a Pawhak-than, but it was still...disturbing.

Fortunately for the Lupin, his feeding time came during the middle of his assigned shift--in this case, Gamma. That meant that "lunch" came at the middle of the shift's fourth watch: midnight.

As Nieca slowly returned to her quarters from her late night research she smelled the rich odor of blood from outside the lounge. The odor made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on edge and her nostrils flared to engulf the fragrance. Blood lust was a guilty pleasure among Caitians, but much like Vulcans and their emotion, none would ever admit to its existence. Despite the revelry, the smell educed it was an unusual odor to be admitted from a commons area. Civil duty, combined with pure curiosity, caused Rey'ol to investigate further.

The sound of crunching bones filled the empty lounge and as Nieca rounded the bar she discovered a wolf-man hunched over a mess of fur and flesh that was once a living creature. He ate ravenously, peeling the tender meat from the thick, ossified bones while a mess of blood and fluid covered his muzzle and hands. A pile of entrails rested to his side as if saved for dessert. The sight was grizzly at best.

Her first reaction was to run. This was a strange instinct for the women, who was a rather strong and valiant being. But something about this unimaginable beast made the muscles of her body clench. Fighting the abnormal fear that bounced inside of her, Nieca felt the need to speak--after all, the last time she felt fear like this was during her time in the camp.

With pert ear pressed against her head she mustered up an abrasive tone: "Just what do you think you're doing?"

The wolf-like caniloid looked over at the interloper while baring his fangs and lowly growling. Though to most any other senior officer, this would be seen as grounds for insubordination or worse, between carnivores it was more primaly clear: *stay away from my kill*.

"Eating," his deep, rumbling voice churred as some of the entrails hung from his teeth. Keeping one eye on the Caitian, he resumed his *eating*.

"Well that's obvious," Nieca grumbled while folding her arms across her chest. She slinked around the room and circled him once before standing at the edge of his table. "Don't you think you methods are a little savage for the lounge? Shouldn't you save dinners like this for your personal quarters?" Her tail twitched as she spoke.

"I eat where I wish," he said simply. The tone of his voice included all the implications. "If you are *uncomfortable*," he huffed once through his huge nostrils, "you are more than free to leave. Others around here--" he motioned to the only two other crewmen in the Cantina, two Iriks who were tearing into their own meat plate, "don't seem to mind. *You* came into *here*, Lieutenant. So either stop barking and leave, or sit down and eat. *Those* are your options."

"Oh I'm not uncomfortable..." A sly smirk graced her lips. "I'm just considerate." Nieca sat down in the chair across from him, her agile tail tickled and nipped at his ankle. "And I don't know if *those* are my only options." She purred.

He looked up from the plate of intestines that he had begun to slice apart with his razor-sharp claws. The touch of her tail was, in both ways, unexpected an unnerving to him. Other hunters usually only cozied up to a prey-slayer for one of two reasons: share the food, or steal the food.

He sniffed the air, though, and smelled nothing odd from her. She had the same sleek smell that any of her race had. But there was something...more to her than just that. Something *sensual*.

"If you wish to feed with me, you may," he allowed guardedly. He didn't really care if she outranked him as an officer. She was no Marine; no chain of command. Respect for 'fleeters was only out of courtesy. Just like the star-jocks. Unless she was wearing SFMC bars, he didn't care *who* she was. "Eat," he growled low, shoving some healthy chunks of meat toward her.

"No thank you." Her smile became coy. "A rare porterhouse is more my taste then a still twitching carcass." Well manicured nails pushed the hunk of flesh back towards him. "My name is Nieca."

He just huffed then lowed from deep in his chest. "Very well," he growled, while finishing off the meat she had refused, tearing at the bloody stump.

"Oh...you're not going to tell me your name?" She cocked an eyebrow while the tip of her tail curled.

The Lupin hucked his breath loudly, almost like he was laughing. "You enter this place, sit at *my* kill, refuse *my* offer, and expect me to tell *you* my name? You are as bad as one of the soft-skins!" he growled, while pushing the now-cleaned-off plate away from him.

"Rather a soft-skin then a slobbering cur." Her ears cocked slightly but her eyes remained locked with his.

**HAUCHK!** he laughed out loud, this time. "If you wish to truly insult me, tabbycat, then do so like a true warrior, not hiding behind your words!" his voice grew louder while he looked at her well-manicured nails. "Or do you use your claws only for preening your own coat?" He churred again while smiling at his own insult. "Beside, from my world, a 'slobbering cur' is actually a compliment," he said in--what sounded like--a half-joking tone before laughing loudly again.

"It was no insult, merely fact." She began to preen over her finger nails. "Besides, the true mockery to your honor would be for you to challenge me with anything more than words." Despite his heightened voice and haughty presence Nieca appeared rather cool and collected.

He *harrumphed* once, then slumped over the table, propping his massive head in his clawed hands. Silently, he studied her. She was so *unusual*. Most others simply tucked-tail and ran (literally, in some species' case). But she actually stood up to his attempts to shoo her away. He couldn't help but respect that.

She laughed for a moment, allowing him to catch a glimpse at her own fanged teeth. Despite the posh attitude, maybe there was a feral side to the Caitian. "Oh, don't look so whipped," she said. "Please don't feel defeated. You forget, many of the creatures aboard this ship find me to be a bit of an awful beast as well. I know there is more to you than bloody dinners and curled lips."

"Perhaps," he allowed softly. The fur on the back of his neck bristled slightly as she moved closer to him. Not only could he feel something...*electric* between them, but he could really smell her now. It was a much headier, muskier smell. It excited him as he pressed his ears back, then flicked them forward again.

Leaning back in his chair, he reached up, and flicked the optical implant filters from the frames around each of his eyes, revealing the solid crimson-red orbs behind the devices. The light was dim enough in the lounge at this time of night, he didn't need them. Beside, he wanted to look upon the Cheshirine enigma with his *own* eyes.

"So why the glasses?" The female inquired. Despite his own humming of excitement for the Caitian, she read like a blank page; calm and aloof.

He slowly blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Though it was low and tolerable, it still took some time for him to adjust. Staring at her with his blood-red orbs, he rapped his talon-like claws on the tabletop. "My world has no sun, Nieca," he said in less of a growl and using her name for the first time. "Or," he amended, "it *had* no sun." A strange, pained look briefly crossed his wolfish features, as if he were reliving a bad memory in fast-forward. Quickly, the look passed again. "My vision is bred for the night. Unfortunately, most of the fleshy softs prefer this horribly *artificial*," he growled the word in disgust, "light. Without these devices, I'd be permanently blinded."

"That's a shame." She said with a bit of a sigh. "Sunbathing is a marvelous way to relax."

"The only thing a 'sun' is good for is to keep the flesh of your kill warm enough to eat," he said matter-of-factly. The Lupin blinked his huge red eyes again, taking in her features. She wasn't like most Caitian he had met--though few he had. She was more refined, more...*chiseled*; more immediately genuine than the others. He couldn't explain it, but in that moment, the lone animal inside of him felt something he couldn't quite explain.

It wasn't pure lust, though sexuality *did* play into the feelings, somewhat. It was more--he thought of the right way to express it. 'Familiar,' he thought to himself. Like he had known her in some previous life-cycle.

"So are you just going to sit there and drool over me?" Her olive eyes finally drew themselves away from her personal grooming to face him once more.

Surprise at his own rapt attention to her, he stumbled for a quick reply. Just as he was about to say something, however, his commbadge chirruped. ["Corporal Vox, report to Sergeant Niklaas on the double,"] came the crisp intonations the Furies' chief aide, Sergeant Valentine.

Vox squinted his eyes in annoyance at the interruption, then slapped the starfleet delta badge on his chest. "Understood, Staff Sergeant. I am on my way now, Vox out." He slapped at the badge once more to close the channel.

"Your master calls." That same coy smile crossed her lips. "I don't suppose you bring him his slippers?" Nieca couldn't help but become smug.

He ignored her taunting. "I must go now," he said quickly in his deep, husking growl. He picked up the optical filters and snapped them back over his eyes, once again becoming completely unreadable. "Until our paths next cross, Tabbycat," he said as he quickly turned, a low churring laugh emanating from his chest.

"And I suppose 'Slobbering Cur' is the only name I'm going to have for you?" Rey'ol continued to grin as he stood to leave.

He briefly looked back, over his massive shoulders. "I am Falkor, called Vox, known as 'Fang'," he answered simply as he left. _______________________________________

Lyrics from "Animal" Composed and performed by Def Leppard From the album "Hysteria" Published by Mercury Records, (c) 1987

(OOC this takes place during the mission break as it intertwines with the start of Descent. PS sorry to flood the list with all these but A, I need them out before the mission kicks off and B well, me and Rob didn't realise that we wrote so much! Sorry!)

“The rake” Part One

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, USS Galaxy

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Singing softly to herself as she worked, something she did sometimes without even realising she was doing it, Kimberly worked her way softly through an off key rendition of one of her favourite Lila Cheney songs as she prepped for her next appointment. Running a diagnostic on the biobed she hooked her tricorder to its systems and ran a few test scans. Satisfied it was calibrated after a moment she placed the tricorder in the recharge slot and moved across the ward to check on a prenatal scan being run while she waited.

After the scan was completed she checked the chrono and bit her lip, the Lieutenant was late, only a moment but it didn't bode well. Possibly there was a good reason, but in her experience, if someone was late there was usually a problem. Being an engineer though Ms Eshe could've just stopped by to fix something, smiling despite herself she remembered a dinner she'd spent hours carefully preparing, only to have T'Prala turn up two hours late and covered in 'mung' after crawling through the recycling tanks to fix a leak!

~ Sometimes engineers just can't leave things alone ~ she recalled wryly. Deciding to give the lieutenant a bit longer she tinkered with the bed settings, singing softly again as she worked.

She had been standing outside sick bay now for a full fifteen minutes. And she was beginning to feel a lil bit more than, *way*, stupid! This was ridicules! Last time she came to sick bay she just waltzed right in. Not a care in the world. And now, well now was like before. Before the coma, when she hated sick bay, hated doctors and refused to go. Though it was usually at that moment she passed out and woke up on a bio bed… gees, how many times had she woken up on a bio bed? She didn’t even want to count.

What had changed between now and then? She wondered. Well that was before the Dipthru, though she wasn’t really that bothered by them. It was herself she was bothered by. And the things they might find out.

Sighing heavily she pushed her self forward towards the doors. If it wasn’t for the fact that the doors to sick bay were extra sensitive she would have turned and walked back to her quarters, but as it happened they opened while she was still five feet away, and well, that just blew her plan B!

Looking up as the door opened Kimberly spied the approaching, and slightly hesitant young engineer outside from her vantage point at the ward desk and smiled reassuringly, "Hello, can we help you?" she asked cheerily.

~Cheery, smug - no doubt, happy and in a white coat, all the things I should be allowed to kill her for.~ Dhani thought as she stepped inside. ~You could shoot me now~ Dhani thought ~get this over with quickly, or send me away without doing a thing…. All the above would be great, just for heaves sake *don’t* take out a hypo from your coat pocket, keep your hands where I can see them and we wont have a problem!~ Dhani scratched the back of her hand idly, realising that she had been silent for a while.

“Lieutenant Eshe. I’m late.” She said bluntly, “I have no excuse that’s worth mentioning.” ~except that I *hate* you all!~ Her gaze shifted past the doctor and the exceptionally white, wide, smile and began to scan the room.

It was still the same old sick bay. Just that thing’s had been moved around. She wondered why she felt so dammed timid coming back in here, after all, since she had been on this ship, sick bay is where she had spent most of her time.

"Well, I'm your new CMO, Doctor Burton," she introduced herself, "and if I recall correctly we have an appointment, so, if you'll follow me we can start if you like."

Dhani flashed a nervous smile and slowly followed the doctor across the room. The further she got into sick bay the more her skin began to crawl. She shuddered and closed her eyes till the sensation passed. It was almost like pins and needles as all the little hairs over her body rose. Folding her arms across her chest she rubbed her upper arms in a bid to keep warm and kept her head low to keep the doctor form seeing how panic stricken she was.

Patting the bio bed, "Well hop up Lieutenant, what should I call you?" she asked, watching the young woman, "Lieutenant Eshe? Dhanishta?" she asked casually as she picked up her tricorder.

Dhani stared at her for a moment and then slowly slid onto the bio bed. “Firstly I’m not five.” She replied, un-amused. Shifting backwards on the bed she tried to get comfortable. It didn’t matter really how much she moved around, she still felt a rising sensation of fear as she sat waiting. There was something niggling her at the edge of her subconscious, she couldn’t put her finger on it, let alone describe it. All she knew was that she didn’t want to be here and if getting out meant a court martial; that was okay! Forcing herself to stay calm she looked at Burton, “Eshe is fine.”

"Great, thanks, well while you're here I'm Kimberly, and I'll try and get this over as soon as we can," she offered. Unclipping the scanner from the tricorder she raised it to Dhanishta's head and started scanning, "So, anything you want to say, anything new to add that's not on your file?"

Dhanishta flinched as Burton began to scan her. Closing her eyes she tried to relax and stay still…. The all too familiar sound of the tricorder vibrated through her ears. She could feel it pulsing through her head. It grew louder until all she could hear was the hum and the shrill chirping and the pulse throbbing like a drum. Her eyes tightened against the noise; against the pain…

~*~Her wrist’s burned as she struggled against the leather straps that bound her to the bed. Twisting her arms, flexing her fingers in a vein attempt to be free, to push this…. this ‘thing’ away from her. Like electricity it flowed through her body, its ferocity growing until she could no longer struggle. Her body tensed, bracing for the flood of pain that rushed through her mind, flowed through her tiny fingers and down her spin to her toes. They curled up in response, her teeth clenched and her fingers dug into the edge of the bed.

And then it hit. Like a bullet. Its puncture wound, the entry, so small, barley noticeable. But the exit wound, blew off the back of your skull; tearing out everything inside in its wake, till there was nothing left but an empty carcass.

Her skin tingled, her body shuddered, saliva pored into her mouth. Like a spider she injected her poison and watched as her victim, her dinner, faille about in agony. ~*~

“I’m a psychopathic murderer.” Dhani replied in a dark voice through clenched teeth.

Her eyes were shut tightly, her knuckles turning white as her fingers clawed into the edge of the bed. She held her breath against the memory, her heart pounding in her chest.

Watching Eshe's reaction as she slowly ran the scanner over her, Kimberly grew more that a little concerned as her blood pressure spiked as well as her heart rate and other symptoms of excessive panic set in... there hadn't been anything in her notes to suggest a medical phobia, at the psychopathic murderer comment she deactivated the scanner and gently touched Eshe on the shoulder, "Eshe?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice, "Are you okay?" she said as softly as she could so as not to let everyone else in the ward hear.

(OOC this takes place during the mission break as it intertwines with the start of Descent.)

“The rake” Part Two

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, USS Galaxy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a moment Dhani remained still, her face neutral, her eyes still tightly shut.

~*~ Her eyes darted open in annoyance as he screamed, and there she thought that she had severed his vocal chords! Her black eyes centred on the writhing sweating form that tossed in his satin bed sheets. Refocusing her energies she manipulated his body once more. It was easy, like second nature, she was the puppet master, pulling *all* the strings. There was nothing that she couldn’t do to him. No form of torture that she couldn’t inflict. She enjoyed how simple it was to drive him into madness. But in her euphoria she overlooked his strength; the strength that was now rapidly becoming hers.

The screaming stopped.

But now the footsteps came, hard and heavy, accompanied by the sound of a woman’s voice.

She sighed in frustration at her own negligence. The door burst open and she watched through the shadows as the woman’s form rushed to the bedside.

Her thin lips curled into a cruel smile. It wasn’t planned, but it was no matter, two birds, one stone. The children sleeping in the next room would make four.

~*~

After a few seconds of inactivity Dhani batted Burtons hand away, admittedly a slightly delayed reaction. Lifting her legs she spun round on the bed, making sure that there was a solid object between her and the doctor, and jumped off. Breathing hard she doubled over as she gulped the air, holding on to the side of the bed for support she half choked. Her body shook and beads of sweat broke out across her forehead as she coughed and spluttered.

Concerned now Kimberly watched a vein in Eshe's temple throb so violently she was surprised it hadn't burst already, stepping around the bed she stood at the foot of it so her voice didn't have far to travel, "Lieutenant... what's the matter," she asked a little more formally.

Dhani took a deeper breath, still slightly harassed and strained and side glancing at Burton. "Are we done?" she questioned shakily.

Before Burton replied Dhanis fingers rapped on the bed in conclusion, "Yeah, we're done." she decided.

"No, we're not," Kimberly replied as she stepped up to Eshe, "but shall we continue this somewhere else?" she offered.

Pushing herself slightly from the bed, (anything to aid her momentum that had suddenly stalled) she felt light headed and slightly dizzy. Rubbing her forehead to try and rid herself of the disorientation she headed towards the exit, stumbling into another bed in the process. She would have run out of sick bay, if only she knew for sure that she wouldn't fall flat on her arse and have to stay longer while they ran a dermal regenerator over her buttocks.

"Lieutenant," Kimberly said more sternly, but still softly as she stepped up beside Eshe, "sit down before you fall down," she ordered, "if you don't I'll just have to pick you up when you collapse," watching as Eshe nearly did just that Kimberly slid an arm around the thin woman and aimed her toward her office, "let's step this way shall we?"

Dhani pulled back slightly, she wanted to protest, hell she wanted to knock this stupid doctor over and get the hell out of here. But then she also wanted to keep her job. Reluctantly she allowed Burton to walk her to the office.

Settling the young woman into a comfy chair in her office Kimberly perched herself on the desk before her, "Can I get you anything?" she asked, indicating the replicator.

"No." Dhani replied rubbing her head still. It didn't hurt, but the image of the woman, the children… her hand instinctively rested on her stomach, as if that alone would stop her from throwing up.

"Okay then, well, do you want to talk about it?" she asked, still sat on the edge of the desk.

"No." Dhani said bluntly, irritation laced her voice. She glanced across the room, staring slightly at the grey wall.

Raising an eyebrow Kimberly looked Eshe up and down, using her eyes instead of the medscanner, "How long since you had a full meal, not just nibbled on something?" she asked after a moments silence.

Dhani flashed her a confused look. Not one doctor had ever asked her that, though in retrospect she had never been this thin. She sighed and frowned as she tried to remember. "I'm not sure." She said slowly, "But what does that have to do with anything?" All she could think about was the man that she had apparently murdered, the family, the kids. She could see their faces in her mind.

"Well." Kimberly replied slowly, "right now you're so thin I could slide you out of here under the door," she exaggerated somewhat, "according to your file you. had an experience," she deadpanned, "a while back, and since then you've just seemed content to waste away at your desk, Goddess knows why the previous CMO's haven't spoken to you before, but as your Doctor, and as of now I 'am' your Doctor," she informed the Lieutenant casually, "I have to ask you why?" she asked.

"Have to ask me why what?" Dhani asked slightly confused, edging closer towards the door.

"Why you're not taking better care of yourself," Kimberly amended, "and sit please," she asked, "or I'll get someone in here to sneeze you back into the chair," she offered, trying to lighten the mood a little, "Dhanishta. You've been through an incredible variety of traumas, not the least of which was dying," she said with more than a little astonishment in her voice, "I'm your Doctor now, and I just want to help," she offered.

Dhani stared at the woman before her. Her lips pursed as her anger rose. "You think that I like looking like a stick insect?" she asked. Showing her defiance by continuing to stand she crossed her arms and glared at her.

"Do you really think that I enjoy waking up in the morning in *this* body? This body, that isn't mine, this face that looks nothing like me? I stare in the mirror and I don't even recognise myself. And here you stand telling me that I don't take care of myself. The shear audacity!" Dhani shrieked,

"You have no idea what I have been through. You have no idea what its like to die. Not once, but six friggin times. And believe me I would love to show you!" she snarled stepping forwards, "You don't know a damn thing. You wanna help me? Leave me the hell alone!"

Trying not to show the surprise she felt, Kimberly bit her lip for a moment, "No, you're right," she admitted, "I don't know what you've been through, I've only read your file. We all have our past, and yours is certainly different from most anyone's I've heard of. But yes, I'm saying you're not taking care of yourself, you say you look into the mirror and you don't recognise yourself, I'm not surprised, you've barely put any weight on that you lost when you died, your file notes show a marked increase in reports of Depression, you're withdrawn occasionally, correct, trouble sleeping?" she asked at the last, "Lieutenant, we're going to discuss this, if you'd rather not do it now that's fine, but if you put it off too long I'll have no choice but to remove you from duty for health reasons until we have talked about this."

Dhanishta clapped her hands loudly and laughed. "I'm sooo sorry." She said sarcastically. She smiled brightly, "I forgot that just because you are the new CMO you think that you can just walk in here and we will all play happy families. Ya know you're my bestest chum." Her eyes narrowed and her face fell, back into its steely gaze.

Dhani sat down and crossed her legs, "So 'Doc', what is it exactly that you would like to know?" She rested her chin on her hands and stared right through the doctor.

"Correct, I am the new CMO, and I'm walking in here and doing my job which is to look after the health of the crew, if you don't like it feel free to complain," Kimberly retorted, suddenly with a stern tone in her voice, "but I guarantee you I'll win. For now though, all I want to do is to help," standing she walked over so she was stood before Eshe and knelt so she was eye to eye, "if you don't want someone to listen, or someone to help, then tell me why? And why you're at it, tell me also why you're still so thin?"

Dhani stared back. She wanted to play it this way then fine. She wasn't afraid of hard ball. "You tell me." she said coldly, "You're the doctor." She leaned back in the chair, a slightly smug look across her face.

(OOC this takes place during the mission break as it intertwines with the start of Descent.)

“The rake” Part Three

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, USS Galaxy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yup, I'm the CMO," Kimberly agreed with her, "but I'm not you, we're all individuals, we each react and respond differently, I can't say why some people are the way they are, I could give you a host of suppositions, but you're the only one who can tell me about you. If you want me to guess I can, but I'd rather hear from you, but as I said, if you don't want to talk I can't force you, but, well I've already explained what happens then," Kimberly replied, "I only wanted to update your physical, but I'm getting a feeling we should talk first."

"Well then let's talk. I am thin because I was in a nine month coma. My internal organs failed, my body wasted away, as did my muscles. Then my mother told them to turn off the machines that kept me alive. Next question?" Dhani replied resting her elbows on the side of the chair. "What else do you want to know?

Taking a deep breath Kimberly returned to her perch on her desk and picked up a PADD, "Several things actually," she stated matter of factly, "so get comfortable. To start with, do you have any idea what caused the coma?"

"Yes." Dhani replied simply. She was bored now and becoming increasingly disinterested. At least the fear and panic had gone, she had to admit that was a good thing. She began to inspect her nails.

Raising an eyebrow Kimberly waited for Eshe to elaborate, when she didn't she sighed and made a mental note to follow it up later, "I have here you're on muscle boosters after the coma, but from the quick scan I got earlier your muscle tone hasn't improved a great deal, nor has your muscle mass, has no one spoken to you about this?" she asked, obviously concerned.

"Let's think for a moment.." Dhani said glancing up at her, "I returned to the ship, and underwent a full medical. My identity was confirmed, *again* as O'Shea requested, she wouldn't let me go back to work until someone else said that I was who I said I was." She frowned slightly, "I spoke with the Captain, and then had an evaluation with the counsellors. I then went back to work and then the Dipthiru invaded the ship." Dhani shrugged her shoulders, "So 'no' would be the answer. Everyone has had more important things on their mind than discussing the how's why's and what fore's of coma deterioration. And this is the first time since coming back to the ship, a few months ago, that I have come to sick bay. And if I have it my way it will be the last." Dhani didn't even bother to lower her voice. She wasn't going to hide her contempt any more, so she just added a smile to her comment.

"Oh?" Kimberly asked with a trace of surprise, "and may I ask why? Considering your medical file is out of date, plus you're in no physical condition for away team duties, to say nothing of ship board duties if they get any more strenuous than lifting a cup of coffee, why haven't you been here sooner?"

Dhani audibly sighed and gritted her teeth. "My medical records were updated when I came back to the ship. That was before the last mission, *less* than three months ago. And I can lift more than a friggin cup of coffee!" She stood up and stared down at the doctor, "I don't like sick bay, I don't like hospitals, I hate tests and evaluations and what's more I don't like you! You want to sign me off duty for that, then fine. Go ahead. I've got nothing else left, so go on take the only dammed thing that my life is worth living for and be done with it." her nostrils flared as she shook with anger.

Dropping the PADD onto the desk behind her Kimberly looked up at Eshe and frowned, "If people here had been doing their jobs you'd know that after something this major you have to come in as often as needed until you are fit for duty, which you aren't, at least not fully. you may hate hospitals, and me, though I doubt you know me that well yet, but we're only here to help." sighing, "I hate to come across as a complete pain in the ass, in my last job I had to be much nicer, but I just want to see you walk out of here healthier than when you first walked in, so you don't have to come back," getting up Kimberly walked over to the replicator and called up a couple of glasses of water, "I don't want to take your job away, but you have to realise if I don't think you're fit for duty I have to question if you should be doing your duty. if you want to carry on, you're going to have to work with me here," she asked, holding out one of the glasses she shrugged, "perhaps along the way you can get to know me better, then you can really decide if you hate me or not."

Dhani rolled her eyes and refused the water, "If people here had been doing their job properly then I wouldn't have spent nine months of my life in a coma!" she retorted. She raked her hand through her hair, she was verging on the point of distraction and felt like smacking her head against the wall, or Burtons. She turned her back on the doctor and walked towards the wall. Leaning against it she rested her forehead against the cold metal and sighed again. It was slightly refreshing.

"Y'know," Dhani began to mumble, "if I knew for sure that the cosmos wouldn't pull me back I'd do it again. The only reason I fought it was because of her. And she didn't even want me. Hell it was her that pulled the plug." she trailed off content to just lean against the wall.

"It's different every time. I guess after you have seen death once he changes his face, so when he finally takes you, you can't recognise him."

Turning round she let her body slide down the wall till she was squatting on the floor. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Taking a deep breath she let it out slowly.

Putting both glasses down Kimberly watched and listened quietly. After a moment, "You mean your mother?" Kimberly asked softly, kneeling so she was almost at eye level with Eshe, but keeping a reasonable distance.

Dhani nodded once, returning her head back to lean against the wall. She stared up at the ceiling.

"Have you spoken with her since it happened?" Kimberly asked.

Dhani looked at the doctor, "No." she replied, "She was sedated. The shock you understand." she stood up. This doctor had a habit of encroaching her personal space. "Any way that has nothing to do with my health." She looked at the door hesitantly, "Is there anything further?" she asked, "nothing personal, but I'm itching to get out of here. Doctors make me nervous."

"There's plenty more," Kimberly said softly, this wasn't going to be an easy one she realised, "let's go then, some where else and talk?" she offered, "I'd like to try and help out here, if you'll let me?"

"No matter where we go, you're still a doctor." Dhani replied. She gave her a curt nod and made for the door.

"True," Kimberly agreed as she stood and followed, "but out there at least there's only one of me," she reminded Eshe as they walked, "we're going to have to run a few scans at some point though," Kimberly reminded her, "just so I can verify you're ready for duty at least, so if I may, what's the problem with the biobed?"

"I don't like them, and I don't like scans." Dhani replied coldly. The though of the biobed made her shudder. "The only way you're getting me back up there is to sedate me." she smiled slightly, "Good luck with finding one that will work." She added as she closed in on the door and her release.

"And I'm always ready for duty." She added.

"Yes, I've read about your resistance to sedatives, though I hope that will not be needed. Eshe," she said suddenly, "you may be ready for duty, or think you are, but from what I've seen so far I have to disagree. You're seriously underweight, you have low muscle tone, despite the boosters you've been given, records show you're still taking something to try and help you sleep, but considering your resistance to sedatives I doubt that's working. Answer me honestly here, when was the last time you had a good nights sleep and a filling meal, be honest Lieutenant."

Dhani whirled round and faced the most irritating person she had ever met, “God dam it! You’re like a dog with a bone! Don’t you ever let go?” Dhani half screamed, she had gone past irritated, passed annoyed and was now just exasperated, and what’s more she didn’t give a dam who overheard her yelling at the doctor. “Last time I ate…” Dhani cast an eye round for a clock, but she couldn’t see one easily, “this morning. Do you want a list of witnesses? And last time I had a decent nights sleep… lets see now. About erm three months ago, yeah it was a real good long NINE month nap!” her eyes widened as her pitch increased, “I suffered with insomnia from the second I stepped foot on this tin can. That stopped after the empathic echo, since then I sleep like a baby, cept for the nightmares. Now for the *last* time, we *are* done. Good day!” she whirled back on the ball of her foot and marched the remaining three steps to the door.

TBC in "The power of the rake"

"Sweet Silence, Sweet Vengeance"

Ensign Zev Raynor
'Intelligence' Officer
USS Galaxy

if you are near to the dark I will tell you 'bout the sun you are here, no escape from my visions of the world you will cry all alone but it does not mean a thing to me

knowing the song I will sing till the darkness comes to sleep come to me, I will tell 'bout the secret of the sun it's in you, not in me but it does not mean a thing to you

the sun is in your eyes the sun is in your ears I hope you see the sun someday in the darkness

the sun is in your eyes the sun is in your ears but you can't see the sun ever in the darkness it does not much matter to me

Raynor was already a little surprised by the news, of Jem'Hadar. And of course he was being sent down to check it out, Raynor being the "most up todate with the Jem'Hadar” being fresh out of policing the Gamma Quadrant and having raised one himself. Though very technically it wasn't really a Jem'Hadar he had raised.

It was a little tiny raid on a small supposedly abandoned cloning facility, after the war. A Federation traitor... who was building up an army of Jem’Hadar that did not need the white to function was running it. Though they disposed of the army, and the traitor in the raid that Raynor had essentially led, they found one Jem'Hadar 'child' who had just emerged from the birthing chamber... whom Raynor named 'Ender'. Though his Klingon buddy Ral Kar, (who served as a field medic exchange officer) or Karl as Raynor called him because he had a difficulty with Klingon names, insisted it be killed Raynor took in the child...

Of course after a few days he wasn't a child, but he still raised the Jem'Hadar like any Ronin. Harsh gravity, and even harsher air, with a poor diet, and forcing the child to be strong under those rough conditions, with occasional breaks into zero gravity making him move faster than any other person in those conditions...

Still that was something different. The Dominion wouldn't take the Jem'Hadar back on the grounds that he was 'damaged'. And it was true; there was no loyalty to the Founders in Ender. But Zev had played the father figure or mentor and let him grow. Eventually the kid became an enlisted Marine who served aboard the Strife... but that was ancient history.

He got his standard equipment together, Kiki under his left, BamBam under his right, inserting nicely into the Starfleet standard issue trenchcoat he was now wearing. Underneath minimal protective armour was concealed. The gear was not quite as effective as a personal Force Field generator, but he always hated anyways. In truth he rather be wearing Coven Body Armor, but he figured that might be a bit too much for a simple recon mission around the bloody facility. Two bags, filled with little tricks. One strapped onto his right leg, and around his left hip. The cellular device which could take scans of areas, be a communicator/universal translator, act as a camera, or a flash bang grenade, as well as a few other functions. And finally he strapped in his phaser/wakazashi blade on his right.

Raynor knew exactly what he would be looking for, a medical doctor, probably with some knowledge of DNA manipulation, and a criminal one at that in all likelihood, as not many legitimately minded doctors would be too inclined to play around with Jem'Hadar DNA. He had a short list of names, of Doctor he knew that would be willing to do the work. The top of the list was a Ferengi... The same Ferengi that made him a telepath... The same Ferengi that made him an orphan...

Re-check all known info:

1. 3000 Jem Hadar on this side of the planet's surface

2. One Romulan Warbird, One Hydran Warship. Crew sizes roughly the same as the Galaxy.

3. Starfleet personel on board the Hydran 'runabout' had the same scanner signatures as those bodies found on Deep Space Five. Which was not necessarily a good sign. All the bodies on Deep Space Five had been once possessed that's true, but the Dithparu left every single crew man that they possessed on Deep Space Five.

Unknown info:

1. What is underneath the surface of the planet?

2. What is on the other side of the planet?

3. Where are the Starships that got them here now?

4. Who was the Doctor that helped them?

But in spite of the need for Raynor to check out the area, and the potential to final have vengeance; there were a list of possibility situations he could wind up in.

They were as followed:

1. The Jem'hadar, he had no quarrel with them but if the Doctor that 'helped' them was that Ferengi, that would probably cause a diplomatic incident, dealing with the Doctor that helped free them.

2. The Romulans. If anyone on board that ship knew the clear advantage his abilities alone could bring their intelligence gathering abilities to try and capture him. With Raynor around, no capture was needed to extract information from an enemy. Never mind what memories of highly classified info he had lurking around in his head. And he wasn't too sure of his ability to overcome their probes. Resist them maybe, but he was unsure of overcoming them.

3. The Hydrans, it was the same issue as the Romulans, though he didn't fear their exaction techniques... he had read a report that had the implication of the employment of sleeper agents. Raynor become a sleeper agent? Fat chance. Raynor already knew he was immune to hypnotic suggestion. Not just resistant. But flat out immune...

4. The Ferengi was here and waiting for him in ambush.

5. This was a Dominion trap, or experiment. Much screwdom.

6. The Dominion or Jem'Hadar who still worship the founders, simply acting on their own, come in and crash the party hunting down those who had dishonoured themselves. Massive slaughter/space battle, and probably ground battle.

Raynor moved towards his door. Walk in the park... a very dangerous park full of child rapists, explosions and oh yes massive amounts of political incidents along the way. But a walk in the park none the less...

Raynor stopped at the door on his way out. <Starke, if your down there... enjoy yourself why you can... because I'm coming down for you...> He put on the mask that he wore, and began his long trek to wind up late to transporter room... and whatever team he was assigned to...

(OoC: Song Lyrics in the beginning are from the .hack//SIGN soundtrack)

"Junction"

The Federation Delegation (USS Galaxy):
Captain Cassius Henderson, Commanding Officer
Commander Kol, Executive Officer
Kylar Curran, Liaison Officer

The Jem'Hadar Administration:
First Administrator Goran'Agar, Free Jem'Hadar
Second Administrator Rika'Danur, Free Jem'Hadar
Security Advisor Rana'Teran, Free Jem'Hadar
Yara'Iclan, First Administrator's Bodyguard

The Rihannsu Delegation (Warbird Iaafvi):
Riov Hanae t'Vriesu, Commanding Officer
erei'Riov Jaden tr'Hrienteh, First Officer

The Hydran Delegation (RHV Icon of Glory):
Gharashk'mev N'fth'nor, Commanding Officer
Qasar'mereth Jivi'ka'jur, Executive Officer

****

Eastern Arch, Free Jem'Hadar Settlement

The whirl of the transporter died away as they rematerialized at the edge of the Jem'Hadar settlement. As it turned out, the settlement was built in the midst of a temperate forest. Exchanging a brief glance with Kol, Cassius surveyed the buildings and other structures laid out before him, immediately taking appreciative note of the simple grace of the Jem'Hadar architecture. Unsurprisingly, most of the buildings had been constructed with functionality the primary concern.

However, there was a degree of creativity that had been woven into the planning and construction of the small city. The creative spark was an unknown among the Jem'Hadar, as far as Cass knew. Perhaps Goran'Agar had succeeded after all, Cassius considered, though his doubts remained.

Kol still found himself slightly nauseated by the Federation's transporters. There was almost nothing to the experience, save for a quick feeling of dislocation. With a proper Klingon transporter, a warrior was aware of his body being disable molecule by molecule. It was a... bracing experience. And that taught many a young warrior the proper respect for such technology.

He took note of the spartan architecture as well, sneering slightly out of the idea that these... people were living, in essence, in emergency shelters. Klingons believed in tackling all things in life with a passion most other races lacked - including architecture. "This is it?" his deep bass voice rumbled. "I am... unimpressed."

"These are the coordinates that Administrator Goran'Agar sent to us," Cassius said, suddenly aware that they were alone on the wrong side of the archway that lead into the settlement proper.

"'Administrator' seems a... poor title for a warrior." the Klingon observed.

"For a man bred only to kill..." Cassius shrugged as he continued to take in the surrounds, taking note of both the landscape and positions from which their counterparts could be observing. His trained eye picked out a number of places that had been built into the structures. "... perhaps that's Goran'Agar's point."

Cassius had faced the Jem'Hadar several times during the Dominion War, but it had always been a quick, efficient, and often brutal affair. Either he'd killed them before they knew he was there, usually from a distance, or he'd watched as they overwhelmed the rank and file defenders while he hurried important information or individuals out of their reach.

Often, sitting in his bunk and *trying* to relax, Cassius had wondered whether the Jem'Hadar had a soul, if such a thing existed. The killers never displayed emotion, and rarely spoke. The Founders had bred a race of perfect warriors, bound to their will by a terrible addiction. And now, as he waited for Goran'Agar to arrive he couldn't help but wonder; would it even be a good idea to have a peaceful Jem'Hadar society? Just one unhinged dictator with any talent for genetic manipulation and they'd be killing machines again. The Hydran Queen certainly came to mind.

Kylar Curran hadn't received much notice as to his assignment when Captain Henderson paged him, so it came as a small surprise when during their gathering in the transporter room, he'd been informed as to the request and collaboration parties ahead of the party.

He'd been involved in Intelligence, with the Communications and Signals Interception divisions during the Dominion War. It was his job to track and decrypt communications made by the Jem'Hadar and Dominion forces, so with that background, he thought he knew the enemy fairly well from a certain standpoint, even though the closest he came to the war itself was behind a desk on a Starbase. He'd never even seen a Jem'Hadar.

So when the faint whisper of forces reached him on the winds, he immediately reached for the neutralizer on his waist, becoming angry with himself for the habit he still could not break. It was perhaps a distraction that he was nauseous from the transporter use once again.

Transporters made him viciously ill, due to his DNA makeup. His Kelvan DNA was ever feverous in its endless assault on retaking his form cell by cell, but whenever the transporter was used, it always re-assembled his human DNA first, as it was the dominant gene in his biology. After fifteen years in human form, it was becoming more and more difficult, and the internal battle he faced was more violent with each passing year. The transporter certainly didn't help matters.

His face pale and ashen, he swallowed bile as he gestured towards the approaching party of five Jem`Hadar. "The Jem'Hadar, Captain."

Kol turned his attention to where the Kelvan had indicated. His own superior sense of smell had smelled them coming from down-wind, of course, but he himself had been preoccuped searching their surroundings for concealed weapons emplacements, or hidden guards. He had noted far too many likely spots for his comfort.

"Welcome to Tru'Haran, Captain Henderson," The Jem`Hadar that approached were unarmed, save for the last one to follow up behind the first four, though the weapon was sheathed. "The Terran translation would be 'Junction', I believe."

"Fitting designation." Curran commented as nodded his acknowledgement.

"Thank you, Administrator," Cassius replied, nodding to the Jem'Hadar leader.

Kylar whispered to Cass "There could be more nearby, cloaked in the treeline."

"There are." Kol confirmed with a whisper.

"Your fears would be well-founded," Goran`Agar started his sentence as he rounded behind the rightmost arch out of sight. A high-pitched hum resonated followed by the curt static discharge of a deactivated forcefield. The azure dazzle between the two arches dissipated as the First Administrator returned from his point, "If we were still at war."

He moved forward, extending his hand. "This is the standard greeting, is it not?"

Cassius accepted Goran'Agar's gesture, grasping his rock hard hand briefly before allowing the Administrator to continue on to his companions. "Yes, though there are many traditional greetings among the peoples of the Federation. This one is from my native Earth."

"How did you become so informed of diplomatic etiquette, First Administrator?" Curran hesitatingly accepted the proffered hand, and returned the other with their own formal salute.

"I have had time to reflect on many teachings when not at war. This," he stood to the side to allow one of the others to step up, "is my Second, Rika'Danur," he nodded towards the others. "My personal aide Agra`Antar, Security Advisor Rana`Teran, and a member of my personal guard, Yara'iclan."

Cassius nodded to each of the Jem'Hadar in turn, before introducing his officers. "A pleasure to meet all of you. This is my Executive Officer, Commander Kol of the Klingon Empire. He's currently serving on the Galaxy as part of an officer exchange program. And this is Legate Kylar Curran, my link to the Federation Liaison Corps."

After the Starfleet officers had exchange surprisingly *cordial* greetings with their Jem'Hadar counterparts, a strange electric hum began permeating the air of the courtyard. With a blue-yellow flash of light, two massive Hydrans (though one, the male, was a little smaller than the female) materialize from an azure mist.

The Jem`Hadar First leaned into Captain Henderson minutely. "The Hydran delegation. I had asked that they remain in the settlement, but they insisted on being present at your arrival. They can be a distrustful lot. The Rihannsu shouldn't be far behind. They seem quite interested in you personally, Captain?"

"Riov t'Vriesu and I have had a prior meeting," Cassius replied. The sister of the Rihannsu Empress was a dynamic and curious woman. Her interest in preventing another quadrant wide war had brought them commonality, though they both knew that it was an unrealistic goal.

"Dogs should know their place." Kol muttered under his breath, conscious of Henderson's instructions to not actively insult the Hydrans. Or for that matter, the Romulans. Or the Jem Hadar. Or, really, anyone.

Nevertheless, Goran'Agar put on a neutral appearance as he turned away from the Federation group to approach the Hydrans.

"I had asked your assistants to remain in the settlement, Gharashk'mev, while I welcome the Starfleet delegation. Was the message not relayed to you?"

"I was called away by matters of the Sovereignty, First Administrator," the smaller Hydran--N'fth'nor--explained. "I present to you my Qasar and commanding officer of the Icon of Glory, as well as my bondmate," he moved aside for the much larger female Hydran behind him, "Qasar'mereth Jivi'ka'jur," the Warlord pronounced the name of his mate/Qasar as "Jiffy-kay-joor".

"A pleasure." Commander Kol replied, his voice and expression betraying that he thought it anything but.

In his usual curt manner, Cassius nodded to both of the new arrivals. "Qasar'mereth, it is a pleasure to meet you. Your husband has been a worthy counterpart," Cassius said, carefully choosing the words he used to acknowledge the checkered history between them.

Instead of speaking, Qasar jur merely bent her three eyestalks down in a ceremonial bow.

"While we're on the subject of introductions, I don't believe you've met my First Officer, erei'Riov Jaden tr'Hrienteh," Riov Hanae t'Vriesu said as she finished materializing on the green outside the city proper. "First Administrator, I apologize for any disrespect to your wishes, but I could not allow the opportunity to tour your settlement again to pass without taking advantage."

Goran'Agar nodded, taking her action in stride.

Hanae t'Vriesu was a classical Rihannsu beauty, with dark pools for eyes, daring those she met to stare into her depths. Her hair was swept up into a complicated bun, complimenting the patterning on the elaborate robes she wore. They hugged her curves in all the right places. Seeing her out of the stark Rihannsu Galae uniform, Cassius was reminded of something his father had told him as a child. ~Some women know they have it, and aren't afraid to use it to their advantage. Those are the most dangerous, and they usually want something.~ The Empress's sister was no different.

"Captain Henderson," Hanae smiled, though he couldn't decide if it was a predatory grin or a polite smile. Strange how the two could blend on so expressive a face. She extended her hand to him, palm down.

Taking her hand by its delicate fingers, he bowed to her. "It's an honor to see you again, Riov t'Vriesu," he said, before addressing the Administrator. "I believe we're assembled, and I'm eager to tour your facility. Shall we begin?"

"Of course, Captain." Led by Goran'Agar, the odd conglomeration of intergalactic foes and allies moved past the archway, into the town's central commons. Though the Hydrans and Rihannsu had already seen much of the city, it was quite a shock to the Starfleet crew. Looking around in amazement, they saw what was previously thought to be impossible: small children--definitely Jem'Hadar--running and playing throughout the buildings surrounding the common area. Some of the youngsters were even being herded by... *women*. Jem'Hadar *women*.

"Pardon me if I'm too forward, Administrator, but it was my understanding that your people had no female gender, nor children," Cassius pointed out, implying that an explanation would set his mind more at ease. As they walked through the colony, it was an experience that could only be described as surreal. The Jem'Hadar had built a full society in the space of seven short years, complete with family structures, cultural institutions, and all the other trappings of civilization.

"Not too long ago, that was true." the jem hadar Elder admitted. "Much like the Vorta, however, the Jem Hadar were not created out of whole cloth. Refined, yes, improved far beyond our original genetic sequence, certainly. But we were a free - and peaceful - people once. Though there have been no Jem Hadar women for thousands of years, our DNA still carried the... blueprints for them. With some modifications to our cloning technology, we have been able to reintroduce the female sex to our people."

Something just seemed profoundly unnatural to Kol about all of that. "Then you were not... lacking, yourselves?" he asked, aware it could be a tender question.

Equally unnaturally, Goran'Agar laughed. "No, certainly not. And with females once more, we have also begun to breed more... naturally. Our young still reach maturity quickly, though it changes with each new generation. Our children no longer grow to adulthood in a week's time. It is now up to four years before they reach full maturity."

Walking through what appeared to be a general vendor's marketplace, the Kelvan Liaison officer tried not to be distracted by the utter bizarreness of the scenes playing out before them. The Hydrans and Rihannsu delegations had spread out around them, acting disinterested in the Starfleet officers' bewilderment. Each doorway that was passed Jem`Hadar would stop whatever is was they were doing and melt into the shadows of the alcoves or stalls they were loitering in, whispering in hushed tones.

"Where is your Vorta? I cannot believe he or she would sanction the suppression of the military forces of the Founders into a civilized society."

Goran`Agar bowed to an elderly companion they passed in the street. Kylar tried not to stare at the abnormality of an exceptionally elder Jem`Hadar. "The Vorta is dead."

(OOC this takes place during the mission break as it intertwines with the start of Descent.)

“The Power of the rake”

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

Lieutenant Jiiles (NPC)
Engineering Officer, USS Galaxy

Main Sickbay, USS Galaxy

(This is set *directly* following “The rake”)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doors parted and Dhani collided with someone. Bouncing off his torso Dhani looked up, she recognised that big blue smile. Her heart sank further, not the first person she would have chosen to bump into.

"Hey, Dhani!" Jiiles said cheerily, he nodded to the doctor behind her. Looking back down at Dhanishta he continued in a more serious tone, "Can we talk?" he asked her.

"Not now." Dhani replied bluntly side stepping him she continued through the door.

Jiiles looked up at the doctor with a questioning expression, and then back at Dhani as she passed him. Double taking between the doctor and his ex he shrugged at the former and half smiled a smile of 'what the hell!' Turning round he made after the brunette.

"Hey." He called after her, half running a few paces to catch up to her, "I just want to talk with you." He pressed.

"Not now Jiiles." Dhani replied keeping her eyes fixed on her destination; the turbo lift. She had enough of questions she just wanted out. To get away from all this crap before her head exploded.

"Dhani, please" Jiiles insisted grabbing hold of her arm he pulled her back.

Her hand curled into a fist as her body jerked to a halt. She lurched round to smack him straight in the face, but he caught her fist.

With his hand locked around hers, the other round her forearm he pushed her up against the wall, "You don't want to do this Dhani, people are watching." He hissed.

Pressed up against her he leaned in and drank in her sent. He hadn't been this close to her for months. He could feel himself becoming aroused, the smell of her hair the feel of her skin. He missed her touch, her smile; the image of her face drove him to distraction. The fact that she had blanked him for months drove him crazy.

"All I want to do is talk." He half whispered in her ear.

Dhani stared before her, eyes fixed on his commbadge, she didn't look into his eyes, she daren't. He towered over her, holding her firmly against the wall so she couldn't move. She could feel his breath on her face, warm and moist. She tried to push back but his grip tightened.

"Dhani?" Jiiles questioned, his head bobbing from side to side to try and make eye contact.

Dhanis body stiffened, she could feel her hands getting colder by the second. "I said not now Jiiles." She replied slowly through gritted teeth. Her heart began to pound in her chest, the vibrations running down her body into her toes.

Jiiles ignored her yet again and began to push her towards the turbo lift, "It wont take long, I just wanna talk, okay?" he asked, although he had no intention of listening. He had enough of her dodging his calls and refusing to see him. Hell he had been through torture worrying about her, hearing that she had died nearly killed him and now she was back she was the ice queen again. He knew if he could just get her alone so that they could talk then she would open up to him. He knew she still loved him, it was just because of what happened with Suder that she was acting this way. He had to tell her that he knew and he didn't blame her, and then, well then she would come round, maybe he would make her laugh and the woman he loved would run back into his arms. He smiled at the thought.

Dhani pulled away from him, yanking her hands out of his, "No." she said firmly.

"Dhani come on." Jiiles said still not listening, he went to grab her arm again, but Dhani pulled away. Like two cats pawing at each other, he tried again and she batted him back. It continued like that for several seconds until Dhani began to back up against the wall.

It happened in an instant, before Dhani even realised what she was doing. As her body banged against the wall she shouted in a booming voice, "JIILES I SAID NO!"

Like a surge of electricity it pulsed from her.

Jiiles flew across the hall, smacking into the wall with a resounding *thud* followed by a crack as his head bounced against it. His body crumpled, his knees giving way, and like a splattered bug on a windshield, he slid down the wall and onto his butt. Shock, horror, surprise and puzzlement crossed his features as he stared up at her.

Dhani was just as shocked. Her hands were firmly against the wall, she hadn't even touched him. She stared at him for a moment frowning deeply. Slowly her gaze shifted and she looked back down the hall, what were the odds that Burton was watching?

Dhanis cold black eyes locked on to the figure she knew all to well to be standing in the open doorway of sick bay. Dhani said nothing, her expression was blank.

Finger by finger she pealed her hands away from the wall; perspiration had formed a vacuum between her skin and the metal. She took a few back steps, her eyes still locked on Burton, who had sprouted roots, until the corridor split. Turning round Dhani hailed the lift and was more then thankful when the doors opened without delay. Stepping inside she spun round and stared forwards, her gaze falling on neither of them.

"Deck eight." Dhani instructed flatly as the lift doors closed.

Stood in the doorway of sickbay, Kimberly had watched the encounter with curiosity, right up to the telekinetic assault that had sent 'Jiiles' bouncing of the far wall, for someone who had little in the way of upper body strength she sure made up for it in other ways, grabbing a medical kit she trotted down the corridor as the turbolift doors shut and knelt beside Jiiles, "Are you okay?" she asked, seriously thinking about calling the chief engineer and having Eshe relieved of duty pending several evaluations.

“Docile“

Lt. Ella Grey

========

Ella hadn’t bought into the Starfleet sales pitch when the recruiter had showed up on her doorstep.

She had been looking for a way out, away from Thomas, her parents, and anything tying her to her old complaisant self, and the Academy was as good a means as any.

And if she’d had any illusions about the Academy they were quickly revealed by the psych exam future students had to take prior to entrance. Of course she used the term “take” rather loosely since one couldn’t properly prepare for an “exam” which pulled you off of the streets and into a conveniently darkened alley in an effort to recreate a traumatic event from your childhood. It was a bit hard to take their idealism seriously after that.

But she supposed that there was something Starfleet that had rubbed off on her because, try as she might, Ella couldn’t help but feel that there was something... off about the planet and its inhabitants.

She thought that it could have been that this was a Federation enemy, or at least had been a very serious one a few years back. In her first year at the Academy talk of the Dominion War had infiltrated each and every one of her classes so that you couldn’t even talk about repairing a toilet without it somehow being a benefit to the fight against the Dominion.

But the more she thought about it, Ella thought that it was more likely that the sheer normalcy of this place just rubbed her the wrong way. Sure there was a military presence about but there were also women and children and nothing slapped a face back on an enemy faster than knowing that the enemy was also someone’s child or parent.

She could not, for example, imagine Jeremy Flitt, the man who had tortured her years ago, as someone’s child. As far as Ella Grey was concerned the man had been spat up from the depths of hell one morning, and if God was good, someone had violently helped him back there.

Yet despite this unexpected show of humanity (for lack of a better term) of the Jem’Hadar, she also still couldn’t help but feel that there was something staged about this whole experience as if they were trying to show a more docile side of the misunderstood ketracel-white sniffing community before turning around to bare their fangs. Misdirection from the magician, actors on a stage following the script, or whatever analogy applied, Ella couldn’t help but feel like she was watching some kind of show.

She wondered if she'd always been this cynical, even when she had been the one playing docile to the world.

Probably, she decided.

(OOC – sorry to Jonas, this was written a while ago but I was waiting on the completion of another few posts, this takes place after “The power of the rake” (and after the 12 parter Jonas and Lori did!) during the mission break as it intertwines into Descent.)

“Behind the eyes” Part One of Two.

Primary Characters;

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering officer

And

2nd Lt, Jebidian Baile
Marine Recon Mission Specialist

After her recent revelations Dhanishta was resorting to her own type of therapy. The punch bag!

Sweat dripped off her like rain in a thunder storm as she slammed her fist once more into the hanging bag. She followed through with a quick repetition of upper cuts and finished her volley with a sharp kick to the mid section of the bag.

It swung backwards hard, the chain that attached it to the ceiling jingled as it moved. As the bag came forward Dhani threw her arms round it, instead of side stepping, hugging the bag, breathing hard until the vibrations stopped.

She was weak and she knew it. Normally she barley broke out into a sweat when she worked out. She had been at it for only fifteen minutes and already her body was exhausted. If she could throw her own body against the wall in a tantrum fit, then she would. She would scream and shout and stomp and throw things.

Instead all she could do was wallow in what she knew to be the truth. The body she had; was gone.

That truth was painful.

Pushing the bag away from her she stalked over to the other side of the gym and picked up her towel. Her eyes misted as she sat down and pouted. The bag still swung from side to side, mocking her.

She stared at it. Glared at it. The anger rose inside her, the pain and frustration whirled inside like a tornado.

Her chest began to rise and fall as her breathing quickened. Focusing on the bag, the red bag, the bag that mocked her, the bag that pained her….. she poured her anger into it. It had to pay, she wasn’t weak she was strong …. she was a warrior …. she was … suddenly the bag fell to the ground.

Dhani jumped.

Slowly she stood up and walked over to the punch bag as it rocked from side to side on the floor. Kneeling down she stared at it with a puzzled and troubled expression. At that moment the door opened with its usual hiss and Dhani frowned. Slowly she turned and looked at the open door way, or rather the person in the door way.

The bag was slung over his shoulder. A pair of Kali sticks had been shoved into it, as well as a few other goodies. He had been a bad boy in the last few days, skipping his daily routine a few times.

That had been then. This was now. A different time. A different him. Now he longed for the knowledge buried deeply inside martial secrets. Soon as the door opened he saw… well, he wasn't sure what he saw except a much too thin woman kneeling on the floor next to one of the sandbags.

He looked at her, his eyes covered by the dark goggles he now wore because some messed-up twat thought it had been a good idea to give him new eyes. That and putting a ghost in his head. He idly scratched the tattoo on the right biceps. "You killed it, Toots?" he asked in a low voice filled with dark humour.

Dhanis eyebrows arched in an almost comical way. All the anger that had been bubbling inside her had vanished the instance the bag had hit the mat. Glancing back down at it she frowned.

“It appears that way,” she said taking her index finger she pressed against the bag, as if she were checking for a pulse, “I’m registering nothing.” She reported in a serious tone. Standing up she looked over at the new comer, “Time of death…” she trailed off looking around for a clock. Shrugging her shoulders she glanced back down at the bag on the floor and then at him, “I’m really sorry, did you want to use this?” she asked pointing at the bag, slight concern showing on her face.

He walked inside and tossed his bag on the floor. Looking at the bag he shook his head. "Sloppy seconds isn't my thing." he replied as he sat down and started wrapping his hands. "Who was it?" he asked, nodding towards the bag.

Dhani gave him a suspicious glance, “Who was what?” she questioned, “The bag?” she gave him a hard stare, “It’s just a bag.” she said slowly.

"And I'm the King of Oz… " he shrugged and continued to wrap his hands.

“I don’t doubt that.” Dhani replied flatly. She folded her arms across her chest and turned from the man to look back at the punch bag on the floor. Kneeling next to it she pushed it, gently rocking it back and forth. In a moment of honesty she answered his question, “It was me, I suppose.” she said quietly.

Making sure the wraps would stay in place he stood up, rolling his shoulders and his neck slowly. "And what did you do to earn that then?" he asked bluntly, walking up to her and grabbing a hold of the bag he lifted it up again to hook it up to the chain.

Dhani stepped back as he lifted it back up. She watched him as he placed the bag back on its hook without even straining, his elegant muscles flexing beneath his shirt. She envied him. Her eyes narrowed at him as the jealousy flowed inside her.

Sighing to herself, she though about his question, though she wanted to ignore it. She didn’t want to answer it, wasn’t sure if she could answer it. What had she done? It was a question that she had been asking herself for weeks. What was frightening was that as time went on she found herself getting closer to an answer, an answer that was more terrifying than the prospect of being locked in a room with Legate Curran. God that man was infuriating!

Dhani sighed, “I’m …” she trailed off not sure what to say.

"Impressive, Sally.. " he secured the chain again and gave it a good yank to make sure it wouldn't fall down again. At least not that very second! He was a man who had no patience for the weak or the insecure. Not any more. "Looks like you're ready for round two." he gave the bag a light push and sent it swinging back and forth.

“No.” Dhani replied shaking her head, “I’m done for the day.” hearing those words was enough to make her cringe. Done for the day… a year ago she wouldn’t be done for the day after 15 minutes. A year ago an hour work out was less that adequate, a year ago, a year ago!!!!! Dhani almost screamed. So much was different, so much had changed. And she hated it. She felt the anger coiling inside her again.

He looked at her, taller, broader and darker than her, but if there was one thing he knew, one thing he could practically smell - it was anger. It made him curious. Anger always did. Perhaps he was looking for an anger as great as his. Perhaps he wasn't. Didn't matter much. "If you say so, Dorothy.." he said with an amused smile on his face. His face never looked very pleasant when he smiled.

She gave him a side glance, “I’m not from Kansas.” She said coldly, “I’m not even human. Save the antidotes and the humour for them.” She replied clipped.

Even this bloke was now beginning to piss her off, with his smug smile and his stupid comments, and his over-written cheerfulness. Why was there always someone perky when you just wanted to smash the crap out of everything around you until there was nothing left but blood and sweat?

Dhani closed her eyes against the rage that burned inside.

He removed the tank-top he was wearing. His torso heavily tattooed, the most prominent being the crow on his back, who's wings stretched out over his shoulders, ending on his chest, tips nearly touching. The head was on the side of his neck, watchful of its surroundings. He gave the bag a slight push again, jabbing at it almost playfully, the impact causing the heavy muscles to ripple and in turn making the tattoos come to life.

Dhani watched the tattoos as they moved, danced across his skin. ~Marines!~ she though flippantly. She frowned for a second and touched the brand on her upper right arm. She suppressed a laugh. They weren’t that different in that respect. Both of them had scared their bodies in some way on purpose.

"Why keep it in?" he asked and looked at her, his eyes shielded behind a pair of goggles.

Dhani studied him curiously, “Because it’s safer in, than out.” she replied. “Holding on to your anger and pain is more mature, more Starfleet, letting it out is giving in. Giving up…” she lost herself in her explanation. Lost herself in the reflection in his goggles. She didn’t like what she saw. Pouring her energy into training was never giving up, but that was when she had control; control of her own emotions. That was a time when she knew who she was, knew what she was training for, why she was making herself stronger, knew why she pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion and beyond. Now she didn’t know. Now she just felt the need to scream and never stop, now she felt something that wasn’t hers. But then had this been the way she was supposed to feel for the last few years? Was she just waking up or falling asleep?

Before he could reply she turned and smacked the punch bag hard. She didn’t wait for it to swing back towards her, just moved forward into it and began to repeatedly punch it, getting faster and faster until she could no longer see what she was doing, or where she was hitting the bag, all she saw was a stream of colour before her; a blur of her hands as they met with the bag.

And then her vision changed and she saw everything as it was, in its purest form. Energy. Like ribbons they flowed through the air, sparking as they touched one another, changing colour as they moved. She saw her own energy as her volley continued into the bag. And then she pushed with her mind, the energy doubled and the bag flew across the room.

Dhani stood still, panting like a dog, her knuckles raw at her side.

"So it dies again.. This time you hang it up." he commented, apparently unphased at what happened. Years as a marine and as special ops had showed him the strangest of things. "What was it you were saying? To give in is to give up? That has to be to biggest load of bullshit someone has tried to feed me in a long time." The smirk was back again, feeding on the anger emanating from the thin woman.

“Sounds like you are scared to me.." he shrugged, seemingly uninterested, but his eyes followed her closely.

Dhani whirled back to face him, her eyes flashed, the green drained from them to leave only darkness. Black ebony hollow eyes fixed on the man before her.

“No, not scared.” She said in a low voice. A voice that sounded nothing like the one before.

“Terrified.” She corrected him.

"Damn.. " Baile looked at her. "The shrinks must have a field day with you.." He crouched down to retrieve the kali-sticks. The holodecks had booked, so he would have to do this without an opponent. Without any real physical challenge.

Dhani smiled, a thin waning smile; one for show.

"So what are you terrified of? Getting your panties in a twist?" Slowly he began to go through the twenty-five forms of Escrima, softening up shoulders and wrists.

Ignoring him for the moment she looked across the room to where the punch bag lay, she could still see the ribbons of energy curling around it, her energy. Her finger twitched at her side, her dark black eyes narrowed. As if by magic the bag rose a few inches off the ground and slowly levitated across the room. Her body remained still as she stared at it, poured her energy into it. Her body might be week, but her mind… that was still her strongest asset. The bag halted at her feet, hovering, and then it rose and re-attached itself to the chain.

For a moment Dhani stood still, barley breathing. Slowly she turned back towards the tattoo covered man, the green seemed to fill her eyes once more.

“Me.” was her simple reply.

The sticks moved to the fifteenth form, with a quick transition to the next, never stopping, never pausing. "Why?" The trick with the bag was neat, but he had seen telekinetics before, not that he was the right one to decide if she was powerful or not.

She frowned, “Since when did you become a counsellor?” she asked him critically, “And if I knew the answer to that question don’t you think I would be somewhere other than here, punching the crap out of this bag in utter frustration?” her voice rose slightly. “If I could remember what the hell I’d done I wouldn’t be here punishing myself by talking to you now would I?” Sometimes it infuriated her how the people that were supposed to get the answers out of her didn’t know where to start. And here was a perfect stranger who now knew more about what was ticking over in her head than Dallas did.

She was so confused and fucked up that Baile almost laughed. A few months ago he would have pitied her. But that was a few months ago. The sticks kept dancing in his hands, strict and controlled. It was boring to do it that way. He preferred a skilled opponent to empty air. "Me a counsellor? Now there's a hoot!" he exclaimed with a rough laughter. "I'd say there's more than one person claiming I should be in therapy."

Dhani smiled for the first time since he entered the room, a real smile. “Well at least I’m not the only one.” She said in a lighter tone.

Glancing at the bag she sighed again, “I’m board.” She remarked staring at it. She looked back at him, “A year ago I would have challenged you to a sparing match. And won.” She said flatly, utter boredom in her tone, “But now,” she sighed and looked down at her skinny bony body. She shrugged and looked back at him, he could see plainly that there was nothing to her. She didn’t need to spell it out to him. Crossing the room she picked up her towel and threw it over her shoulder.

The sticks stopped mid-movement. Casually he flipped one of them up in the air and caught. "Won?" Then he barked a short laughter. "Whatever you say, babycakes.." and the sticks started their mad dance again. "What ever you say.." The last words lacked the humour the first had had. The voice let the world take a glimpse at the darkness inside of him.

There was something inside her that was just acing for the chase. Urging to fight. It smiled; he didn’t know of her past. No one on this ship did. They didn’t know what she was, what she had done. How many people she had murdered. The darkness crept back into her eyes.

“Behind the eyes” Part two of two.

Primary Characters:

Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Engineering officer

And

2nd Lt, Jebidian Baile
Marine Recon Mission Specialist

Previously:

The sticks stopped mid-movement. Casually he flipped one of them up in the air and caught. "Won?" Then he barked a short laughter. "Whatever you say, babycakes.." and the sticks started their mad dance again. "What ever you say.." The last words lacked the humour the first had had. The voice let the world take a glimpse at the darkness inside of him.

There was something inside her that was just acing for the chase. Urging to fight. It smiled; he didn’t know of her past. No one on this ship did. They didn’t know what she was, what she had done. How many people she had murdered. The darkness crept back into her eyes.

And now the continuation:

“Wanna take a pop now, boy?” she asked in a stolen accent, a smile dancing on her lips. Her voice was low, soft and sultry. Her eyes boring holes into him. Her demeanour had changed again. There was something darker in the way she spoke, the way she held herself. As if the woman he had been talking to had momentarily stepped out but left the engine on. Someone else, it seemed, was behind the wheel.

The towel slipped from her shoulder as she sauntered across the room, hips swaying from side to side. Something sinister about the way she walked, something slightly intoxicating.

She stood before him, and raised her hands, grabbing both sticks in mid spin. “Think you can take me?” she asked again in that stolen voice.

The marine looked at her. "The question you should be asking yourself is what happens if I do..." Slowly he lifted the goggles from his eyes and looked at her. The room lit up, seemingly bathing in light. Alien eyes looked at her, expressionless in the face of a killer.

She didn’t stand back, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Her black eyes locked on to his alien eyes; bathing in their glow. Her lips curled upwards into a cruel smile.

She took a step forward, invading his personal space, her eyes never leaving his. She breathed deeply, drinking him in. “What does happen if you do?” she returned his question, her voice echoed through the room, which had turned eerily silent. The air around them had grown ever so taught. And she could still see the energy flickering in streams of colour in the peripheral of her vision. But what fascinated her was his energy, so raw and naked. It flowed about him, danced around him, touching everything in the room. He had no control of it. He just felt it and did as it dictated. Her hand reached up and touched his chest, surrounded by that energy. It was like touching a live wire.

She closed her eyes and breathed in again, tingles of pleasure rippled over her skin. “You lose control.” she said tilting her head back in euphoria.

"If I do you die." he stated calmly, pushing down the urge to strike. This one was.. different, the telekinetics aside. Evil of sorts. It took evil to know evil. His body was charged, a loaded gun waiting to be fired. He knew exactly where to strike if he wanted her dead. Explaining how he knew it was impossible. He just did.

“Who said anything about death?” her voice trailed on the air around them like silk. A whisper almost, that surrounded them, vibrated through them with passion.

Her black eyes darted open, probing his with a deep powerful surge. Her body jolted slightly as she delved inside his soul. And again she smiled, wider than before. She wasn’t looking for his past, his memories his pain or fear. Just his soul. It was there, so vivid, so full, so bright; brighter than his eyes. More magnificent than any of her pervious conquests, her previous kills. This one was not for death. This one had so much more to give.

She moved around him, her hand trailing from his chest, over his shoulder to the back of his neck. And that’s where it lingered while she whispered her hateful words, dripping with poison.

“Isn’t this how you like it?” she asked, quietly. Her fingers began to caress his back ever so slightly, down his bare skin over the wings of the crow, to the base of his spine.

He could feel her fingers cross the letters on the scaring on his lower back. Semper Fidelis. "We're forever faithful." It made him remember when he had it done. The pain had been quite something. "I'm not much for pillowtalk.." She had no idea what he was capable of. How easy he could have killed her while she was standing behind him. It almost made him scream in disappointment that he couldn't.

“I’m not interested in pillow talk.” She replied harshly her finger nails digging into his skin.

She leaned in closer her lips next to his ear, “You know what I’m talking about. It’s what troubles you. In your dreams,” her voice grew darker, “in your nightmares.”

"My nightmares?" he replied, looking directly at her. "Please.. don't stop.. it's getting interesting.."

She laughed loudly at him, her pitch rising and then falling. As soon as she stopped the smile left her face, “You don’t like them to see you coming.” she said flatly. “You relish in the taking of life, so much so that you take the only thing that could keep you in this world; Maya.”

Had his eyes been human she could have seen how they went dark. But they weren't so she didn't. "Is that so?" he asked in a dead voice, not bothering to hold back any more.

There it was. She could feel it rising now, see it shifting deep with in him. This exterior, this cage he kept himself in began to rattle as his anger rose. She hid her smile. She hid any signs of pleasure from him. This wasn’t just a torture session, this was a light lunch. All the energy roared inside him, whirled like the plasma inside the warp core. All she had to do was draw it out and channel it into herself. And soon she would be free. Maybe she would free him too, from the mask he wore. Show him how to be what he was always meant to be.

Then again maybe not. She never did care about what happened to others, as long as she got what she wanted, after all that’s all that mattered. That’s all that had ever mattered.

Her head tilted to one side, a mock expression of sympathy crossed her features, “Awww, there, there, baby.” she lulled in a sickly sweet tone, “This world wasn’t made for you anyway.”

"Tell me something.." he said after a few seconds. Even talking made his concentration weaker, ever so slightly.

She smiled in satisfaction. Just one more minute, she told herself. She didn’t want to drain him too fast, never knew when she might need a top up. Reaching up she caressed his face with her forefinger, tracing a line down from his temple to his chin.

"How do you want to die?" The uppercut hit her squarely under the jaw, sending her head backwards. He could have hit her harder. A lot harder. Hell, he could have crushed her entire jaw if he had wanted to. Killing this one would not be a job. It would be a fucking pleasure.

She had let her guard down and she knew it, in that split second before her body hit the ground. What was it she always told herself? Never stay that second longer to gloat, that’s how you got suck here in the first place. STUPID! She chided before retreating.

Dhanis body rocked on the floor. She groaned loudly. The blood filled her mouth and she began to choke. Coughing and spluttering on the floor she curled into a ball as the pain engulfed her head.

He had the knife in his hand in the blink of an eye. That was his pencil. His brush that he used to paint his masterpieces. His foot connected to her hip, hard, sending her sliding nearly a feet. "Computer. Turn off the lights."

Darkness ascended in the room.

Dhani roared as the toe of his boot crashed into her side. When her body finally stopped sliding across the floor she opened her eyes. There was nothing but the darkness. She rubbed her side vigorously as her eyes smarted with tears of pain. She pulled back the urge to cry and whimper like a baby. Her body trembled and her face hurt like merry hell. What the hell was that for? She asked herself. She sure wasn’t going to ask him that.

Gee you mention that a year ago you would challenge someone to a *spar* and that you think you would win and then they punch the crap out of you. Dhani wiped her nose on the back of her hand. It was moist. She couldn’t tell if it was blood or snot, the lights were out, and no, she wasn’t going to taste test it!

~Alright.~ Dhani said to herself, ~he wants to fight a stick figure, then lets play.~ Slowly she took off her boots, trying not to make a sound. Hitching herself up on to her feet she took one boot and threw it across the room.

The sound echoed off the walls.

It was entertaining to see, but then again how was she to know darkness and light no longer held a meaning to him. His new eyes, his new source of pain, pierced the darkness. The marine walked around her, silently, a mere faint whisper in the wind.

Dhani listened hard, listened for the sound of footsteps, any indication of where he was. But she heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing. She strained her eyes in the darkness to see any sign of movement, a shadow; darker than the rest of the blackness. But there was nothing. No sound, no nothing.

Her head cocked to one side, but the motion sent a sharp pain through her cheek. Wincing she straightened up and closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by this arse. He was just a man, a mortal and she could fight. Not like she used to, but she could. And if he wanted to see what she had, then fine she would show it.

With her eyes closed she drew her legs up and crossed them, placed her hands on her knees and regulated her breathing.

Baile stopped and looked at her. That wasn't the same woman that had spoken to him a few seconds ago. This one was weak, afraid. Confused. "Hmmm... " his voice rumbled low. He didn't care if it gave away his position. In this darkness she would die long before she got close. "Computer. Lights, quarter strength"

Dhani cringed, and that sent another bolt of pain through her face. She then scowled and again that sent yet another ripple through. She tried to keep her face neutral and still as she opened her eyes. Her cheek was already beginning to swell, she could feel it. It stung there was no doubt about that, but she wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Swallowing hard she went to speak but stopped herself.

Instead she spoke to him with telepathy, ~“Are you done?”~ she asked him slowly getting to her feet, trying not to wobble.

"Speak in my head again and I'll really have to teach you a lesson." Baile said calmly while grabbing her arm to steady her. No, this was definitely not the same person. He thought about asking her but it really wasn't his problem. If she tried it again then she would be, but that was a worry for some other time. "Let's get you some ice."

Dhani pulled her arm back, and squared up to him. Pushing against the pain that the rapid movement caused.

~“I will talk to you however I dam well please seeing as you just took the ability for me to speak away!”~ her green eyes flashed with anger and pain.

~“I am not afraid of you. Death never scared me. Not the first time, nor the sixth. I have stared down the barrel of that gun so many times and won.”~ her voice rose a pitch in decibel inside his head.

Her shoulders began to shake with the shock as her brain slowly digested what had happened to her body.

~“Ice would be good, yes.”~ she admitted reaching out to the wall for support.

"You've never fought me. What I kill stays dead." Baile said with a shrug. He opened the first aid kit and started shaking the soft bag until it started going cold. A few seconds later he gave it to her. "Press it under the chin, and don't worry. Nothing is broken."

Dhani took the cold pack and pushed it against her face, wincing. She closed her eyes and choked back on the tears that were threatening to fall. She turned her face away from the man and stared numbly at the floor.

“Wh..” she croaked, her voice was hoarse after swallowing that huge lump. Moistening her lips she tried again, “Why did you hit me?” she asked daring to dart an eye to look up into his face.

He had already placed the goggles over his eyes again, yet still the room seemed well lit to him. Maya was standing behind her, looking at Dhani. He glanced up at her. "Her journey is not yours, lover. Maybe your paths will cross, but not today."

He looked at Dhani again. "Cause I'm a bad person."

Dhani nodded slowly, holding the ice pack to her face. She wasn’t about to play counsellor to him and tell him that he wasn’t. Instead she turned around and punched him square in the face. Hearing his nose crack she watched him stagger backwards.

“Now we are even.” She said dropping the ice pack at his feet. “Just for reference.” she said, “When I hit someone, I intend to break something. Maybe it’s cause *I’m* a bad person.” she mocked him. She took a few steps backwards, still facing him. Just to make sure he didn’t come at her and stab her in the back.

“Make up something more original next time.” She called as she turned and continued down the corridor.

Maya shook her head and smiled at him. "You have to admit you had that coming." she said to him while hiding the smile behind her hand.

The marine touched the nose, took a firm hold of it and twisted it back in place. It wasn't the first time it had been broken. "Feisty one." he replied, wiping the blood from his nose. He searched the first aid kit until he found something he could stop the bleeding with. "Guess I'll have to break something in her the next time we meet."

"So you think there will be a next time?" she said, still thinking about how the thing had found her name in his mind.

"Definitely. Don't think I'll pass something like that up, do you?" he said and looked down the corridor.

(OOC: Set right after "Playing With Fire, Part I". Apologies for the delay in posting this one.)

"Playing With Fire, Part Two"

Pilot Ember Lansky

Lieutenant (JG) Miramon Terrik, Chief Navigation Officer

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

Deck 5 - Senior Officer's Quarters

Ember was here for a reason. She was running away from the maelstrom raging in her head, and if wine, companionship - and more, could take away the edge, no matter how brief, she wasn't going to deny it the chance. The right or wrong of her actions, or the judgment that could label her obscenely, shamelessly bold eluded her; there was time aplenty to consider those when she was lying in the grave. Life was for living, and she was bull-dozing through it headlong, heedless of the consequences.

Not that there would be any. By her standards, entering Miramon's quarters after a 10min-acquaintanceship was not too far off the scale of normality.

"You live alone, I suppose?" She asked.

Miramon replied with a gentle smile, clearly amused at the question. "Alone for the most part. I have a little cat I adopted when one of the several cats aboard gave birth to a litter of them, and wanted to get rid of them. It doesn't help that I found I'm allergic to her presence. Just my luck, I suppose."

He'd recently given in to the quartermaster's insistent urgings that he move into the larger senior officer's quarters, since he'd been living in what was supposed to be shared junior officer's quarters, but his roommate had transferred off the ship, so he'd had both halves of the room to himself. Still, as the quartermaster had noted, there were usually more junior officers than senior ones transferring onto the ship, so they apparently needed the room. And so, there they were.

"How about yourself, Ember?"

"Nope, I'm not allergic to cats," She said with a small smile on her lips, knowing that was not quite the question he was asking, but playfully answering it anyway. He had after all done the same earlier. "A lucky thing, considering I'm here now, wouldn't you say?"

The Bajoran nodded his silent agreement, but didn't move to add anything further. That answered one of the many things he wanted to know about her, but didn't answer the obvious question that she was dodging. Knowing his luck, the answer to that wasn't the one he wanted to hear. But that was how things went, he supposed. He'd put up with the possibility for the moment and deal with the consequences later.

"Make yourself home, anyway."

He made a small sweeping motion with his left hand, encompassing the room, following up his words. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do to make her more comfortable, since he didn't often have visitors - indeed, he spent little enough of his own time in them, much less anyone else's time. He headed over to the small partition of the room that served as his kitchen, since he was pretty averse to replicator food, and removed a bottle of the Spring Wine that he'd been drinking in Ten Forward, and that Ember had tried, giving her a pretext for moving to quieter settings.

Removing two glasses from a small cupboard, he headed over to the couch and took a seat, putting the glasses down on the table infront of him and removing the vacuum-sealed cork from the bottle using an appropriate opener. That done, a moment later there were two glasses filled about two-thirds of the way with the light, refreshing wine, one of which the Bajoran passed over to Ember.

Ember sat down beside Miramon and accepted the glass, her fingers brushing lightly across his. "Thank you." Without the noise that filled Ten-Forward, the moment of silence as she took a slow sip was deafening. He seemed however, perfectly with the stillness of the room. It was uncanny. Someone who could be content for any length of time with the solitude of his mind was either remarkable or crazy. With her innate restlessness, it was natural that not many of them had had the pleasure of her company. Things were changing.

"Do you have any other companions, beside your cat?" She asked meaningfully.

Shaking his head, Miramon picked up his own glass and took a sip of the sharply-flavoured wine, just savouring the flavour for a moment. "Sometimes I think about the idea of settling down, getting married. If my family had their way, I'd not have left Bajor, and likely would have entered into just such a union a while ago." He gave an amused smile. "Fortunately they don't get everything they want. I joined Starfleet instead, and once that happened, I honestly hadn't given much thought to the notion."

That was pretty much the truth. Since his youth, the Bajoran had always been moving around doing one thing or another - starting out working aboard the K'lyn, then returning to Bajor once the Occupation had ended, to assist in the restoration efforts, as had most of his people - at least, those that had survived. Once the Federation had moved in to assist with the task, he'd ended up spending a lot of time among them, so they had talked a lot about the work they did - exploring, serving to defend their member planets, working in relief efforts and scientific research. He'd found that notion very appealing, given his restlessness at the time. And so, he'd applied to Starfleet Academy and joined many of his people in moving beyond their native home to do something they found meaningful.

Admittedly, much of those restless tendencies had disappeared since he'd joined Starfleet, replaced by something of a more contemplative, retrospective nature, which did make him feel a little more inclined to stop running around, never staying in one place and certainly not making any connections long enough to persuade him to stick around. Besides, why spend time moving about when your home did all the moving for you?

Raising an eyebrow in a gently curious gesture, the Bajoran flashed the human woman a soft smile. "I could ask you the same question, but you'd throw me another evasion, wouldn't you? You're not used to people being straightforward, are you?"

"That's not true," She answered softly, looking at the swirling liquid in the glass as she slowly fingered its stem. "I appreciate honesty… Brutal honesty." There was a flicker of amusement in her eyes when she glanced at Miramon again. "In my experience at least, the truth is always painful. But that alone is no reason to avoid it. Because it also sets you free. Puts you without attachments or entanglements or attachments..." The genuine, cold reality was an especially useful picture to paint when others expected more from her in a relationship than she was able to give. Destined to be alone with her fleeting partners, she was incapable of giving.

Ember gave the slightest indication of a shrug, then intentionally, turned so that she was facing him, and leaned closer. With her mouth mere inches away, she whispered, her warm breath grazing his. "I find simplicity very seductive."

The fact that he disagreed with her assessment wasn't something easily expressed given her sudden proximity to him. Actually, the temptation to just kiss her was almost overwhelming, and that was probably exactly what she was looking to provoke by moving so close, but he could hardly do that without addressing the sentiments behind what she was doing. He reached out and placed both his hands on her shoulders, but didn't pull her closer - instead he exerted a very gentle pressure and moved her away slightly, so he could stare into her eyes for a moment without feeling that impulse as strongly as he had but a heartbeat ago.

"Simplicity is an easy thing to experience, because more often than not it gives you a clear set of possible answers to any question, or solutions that cost you almost nothing to pursue," he said, his gaze not flickering for a second, his expression calm and more curious than stern, his tone neither that of one reproving another nor of a teacher lecturing a student. What he said was literally just what he felt, plain and simple. "Don't you think that there has to be some benefit from having attachments, given the potential risk of loss? Just because simple relationships are easy, it doesn't mean they're more worthwhile than complicated ones."

Inwardly Miramon had to smile, listening to his own words. He wasn't exactly the voice of experience in such matters - if he were, he'd likely not have been having this conversation. As far as he was concerned, her expressed beliefs on the matter were simply born of a critical misunderstanding in the nature of attachments. To be committed didn't mean you weren't free, it simply meant that you had to approach things differently - the attachments she referred to were little more than natural control mechanisms. If a person engaged in a relationship with another, they exerted an emotional pull on the object of their affections, and thus the other person would be more likely to act so as not to cause them harm or disappoint them in any way - hence, neither would be 'free' in the sense that Ember meant it. Yet if both were aware of such an effect, it could be easily avoided, thus allowing for a relationship where both could enjoy the benefits of that commitment without being burdened by such controls, and both would be able to act independently when they wanted to, or when it was required.

She looked back into his eyes without flinching, answering what he said with a wisp of a smile. For reasons unknown, Ember found herself more interested in the shades of blue she saw in his eyes, than in his words though the gentle melody of his voice was soothing. From a pale hue on the outer rim, the colours she was fascinated by gradually shifted to darker tones as they neared his irises, pulling her deeper still. The depths of mystery beckoned.

"Convince me," She whispered, removing his hands from her shoulders and tenderly sliding them to her waist. There was no haste in her actions, as though there was something about the moment that she wanted to savour.

There was something in that gesture that suggested that she wasn't dismissing what he'd said, but literally did want him to try and convince her, but wasn't looking for him to lecture her on the finer points. He hesitated for a moment, flickering through his mind for something appropriate to say, but it was pretty obvious at that moment that his words would have been quite inadequate to the needs of the moment. He sighed gently, then did the only thing he really could, aside from push her away. He pulled her closer, until their lips was barely a millimeter apart, and then closed even that gap and kissed her.

His surrender, if it could be called that, was sweet. Instinctively, finding the table by touch alone, she set the wine glass down, freeing her hand so she could hold him. The kiss was unrushed, languorous and there was a quality of innocence mingled in that tenderness she hadn't tasted for some time. It was disconcerting, and even as she enjoyed it, she was deepening it, moving their bodies closer and increasing the tempo - the heat, subtly or otherwise, directing the sensations to something within her comprehension.

To him, the kiss felt very much in keeping with the name of the person who was giving and receiving it. There was definite fire in the kiss, even given how gentle it was, to start with, although that was probably more his doing than hers, since he was never one to rush the good things in life. Patience, to his mind, had always been the key, not that he was thinking anything even close to it at the time. Actually, he wasn't really thinking anything whatsoever - he was just enjoying the simple sensation of being that close to another person, although part of him wasn't sure just how fleeting that might be. That was for Ember to decide, in the long run.

She was a lot of things, but patience was never her strong suit. As she ran her hands in a soft caress along his back, and her mouth explored his, the familiar hunger was beginning to awaken. The desire for sensations that would take her to the realm beyond thought was compelling – she wanted to sink indulgently into the place where the only thing that mattered was touch and touch alone, and abandon every care. He could taste her growing urgency as Ember tugged at his clothes, wanting nothing between them.

Ember wasn't alone in that desire, and even though warning bells were sounding in the back of his mind, for once Miramon wasn't even coming close to listening to them. He could feel the intensity growing between them, and wanting nothing more than for it to keep going. So, maybe it wasn't quite what he'd expected he'd do, but it would never do to be considered predictable. He pressed closer to her, one arm encircling her waist, the other pressing firmly into the centre of her back as they slowly descended down onto the couch, neither one letting go.

ooc - A slight backpost, just as the Galaxy gets into orbit.

"A Little Bit of Help"

Flight Officer Teyri Jen, Vanguard Two
Pilot Paulo DiMillo, Vanguard Intelligence Liaison

*****

Paulo sat in the holodeck. "Spots" had him going over flight protocol and the such. Currently Pete was working on his piloting skills, using the Battle of Harvas as the stage. It was harder then he had thought it would have been, even for an AWACS pilot. Not only was he having to dodge the enemy fighters, but his own fighters.

Jen walked in the door, looking around to see who had booked the holodeck. When she had seen on the outside that one of the pilots had it, she figured she could use any opportunity possible to work on her skills, and maybe they were training. If so, maybe they would appreciate someone live to train against.

There were a lot of maybes in there of course, but still. She needed to get out and about.

Paulo heard the holodeck doors open and close. "Computer, pause program," he said as he stood up and started turning. "Don't people see that this holodeck is in use," he said before realizing who it was.

"Well, excuse me," Jen said in reply. "You didn't lock it, and I saw that it was someone from the fighter squads... Never mind, I'll go elsewhere." She turned around to leave.

"Oh, sorry ma'am, didn't realize it was you," he said apologizing.

"That's okay," she said with a smile, coming back into the middle of the room. Her steps were still a little hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she would be welcome, even after the man had identified her. "What are you doing?"

"Just working on my skills," he replied. "I figured if I am going to be co-pilot on the AWACS shuttle I might as well fine tune my skills."

"Well, that's always a good thing to do. Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked him, coming in a little closer, and craning her head around to see if she could see the screen of the simulator he was using.

"Yeah, some pointers," he told her. "I am starting to think I should have used an easier battle instead of the Battle of Harvas."

"Well, tell you what, why don't you start again, and show me what you got, and what's going wrong. Then we can work from there," Jen replied.

Paulo nodded. "Computer, restart simulation," he ordered. Everything shimmered as it was reset. Paulo was now facing a fighter coming right at him. The AWACS Runabout may be fast, but it wasn't as agile as the fighter after it. Hopefully something like this would never during battle, but one could never know.

Jen sat down beside him to watch as he participated int he battle. It was definitely something perhaps a little harder then she would have chosen for him to attempt, but it was his simulation. She was simply here to help.

She kept her comments to herself for the moment, choosing instead to save them all for when he wasn't distracted.

A few minutes later the runabout evaporated around them. "Damn," he said.

She bit her lip for a moment to keep from smiling, and then gravely reset the simulation. "Here, try it again. This time, when you get to that part, and the four fighters are coming in at you like, dip down here, and try this. See how that works you."

Paulo nodded and followed her advice this time through. He ended up making it further, not just past that part, but in general. He started feeling more confident about flying, and flying in such an environment.

"There you go. Much better this time. It's amazing what confidence will get you," Jen said, sitting back with a smile on her face.

"Thanks," he told her. Paulo then thought a second. "Do you recommend any simulations?"

"Yeah, actually, I do have a couple that I would recommend. Here. This is one that I trained on right after I got out of the Academy." Jen punched a couple of buttons on the computer in front of him, and the specs for the simulation came rolling up the screen. "There's a lot of different variables that you have to deal with, from atmosphere to space, to gravity from the sun, yadda yadda... It took me a couple of months to actually get all the way through it. And here, this one right here," she punched another couple of buttons, and it appeared on the screen right beside the first one. "If you are interested in getting more experience with atmosphere dogfighting, this one is good. Granted, the Havras one, nothing can beat it for sheer chaos. There is so much to keep track of."

"Good point, and thanks," Paulo told her as he loaded up the first program. The first few parts where easy, just the basics, and then it moved onto some harder stuff. "This is a nice program," Paulo said as the next part started.

"Thanks. I thought so. It moves with you as you get better and better, so I always thought that it was a really good training tool."

"Thanks, I will keep that in mind."

"Smells Like Suicide, Part II"

Second Lieutenant Branwen London
CO ad-temp, SFMC Furies Dtc.

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
XO, 2nd Plat. (Red Team)

Command Master Sergeant Carl Johnson (APC: Matt)
Command NCO, SFMC Furies

Corporal Falkor Vox
Tactical Specialist/Heavy Gunner, 1st Sqd., 2nd Plt.

With...

Officers and Ratings of the SFMC Furies 188th TSS Detachment

== DECK 6: "Marine Country" Central Commons ==

"Down there, on that planet behind me, is a colony of *free* Jem'Hadar."

Several murmurs rose from the crowd, along with a few shocked gasps and growls. "Let me say that again, Meatballs!" he raised his voice in assertion over the din, "These are *free* Jem'Hadar. No ketrecel-white. No clone chambers. No Vorta. We, along with the other guests," he motioned to the ships hanging in space behind him, "have been invited down for diplomatic discussions." Though he tried not to bely his feelings, a tinge of disgust traced his last two words. He moved quickly to recover.

"Since Lieutenant Baile is off playing Secret Agent Man with Sci-Fi," Johnson said, using the SFMC's derisive nickname for Starfleet Intelligence, "Lieutenant London, our CO for the time being, will brief you on the specifics."

From the corner of his eye, Johnson watched as Baile's--now London's--aide, Valentine, called out, "Officer on Deck! Uh-ten HUT!"

Following the precise snapping of boot heels, Second Lieutenant Branwen London stepped out onto the rostrum, next to Johnson. With barely a whisper, Lucy leaned over to Ethel: "Smells like suicide, huh, Caboose?"

"Yep."

"All right people, listen up!" Branwen had been practicing her command voice. "We are going down there to make sure our diplomatic people can do the job without problems. That means I expect you to keep your ears and eyes wide open. To be on the lookout for any trouble." She slowly walked past the troops, looking them in the eye.

Raaza ruffled his neck crest uncomfortably at the thought of beaming into a Jem'Hadar encampment. Everything bit of his Basik instincts told him this was a "bad idea". *Especially* with the Hydrans and Romulans around. Though he had never dealt with Romulans directly, he had seen enough action against Hydrans: Basicor space was very close to the Sovereignty's border. Instead of saying anything, however, the reptiloid merely double-blinked his inner nictating eyelids.

"I want a Marine presence there 'round the clock," London continued as she walked through the ranks. "That means you will be going down in platoons--in shifts. You will be rotated often."

She stopped in front of one of the toughest sergeants in the Furies. Niklaas Furji's battle-hardened eyes revealed nothing to the Lieutenant, neither fear nor anticipation. Only the slight wrikling of his already wrinkled Bajoran nose gave any indication as to his feelings toward this assignment. Inside, however, was much different. The Master Sergeant had been there--at DS9 and Bajor--when the Dominion had swept through and destroyed everything. His home, his unit, his wife Adjina, and his two daughters, Kyn and Reem. He quenched the fire that was quickly growing inside him; orders were orders, and he'd do his best to lead his men. He didn't have to like the orders, just follow them. He watched silently as the Welshwoman continued on with her instructions to the Furies.

"And you know what? These Jem'Hadar want to know what Starfleet Marines are made of. We have been invited to participate in their training. I have accepted the invitation, and I expect a good show from you people. I will be writing down volunteers after the briefing. Any questions?"

This time, however, a vicious grin spread across Furji's face. 'A free shot at a Jem'Hadar?' he asked himself. Perhaps the Prophets were still listening, after all.

Branwen, knowing his past, was watching Furji closely. She was looking at her Marines with two different hats on; the psychologist in her was a little bit worried about Master Sergeant Niklaas. She made a mental note to take him aside for a little chat, later.

Jonas stood leaning against the bulkhead, listening as Carl lead the meeting. And Jonas was starting to get sick. Not physically. He was in the best shape of his life after all. It was more of a revulsion. The Jem'Hadar were cold-blooded soldiers through-and-through, and no amount of *freedom* was gonna change that.

Something was up...they had to be up to something. Jonas knew it. He just didn't have the foggiest idea of what it could be.

Looking around at the contingent of Marines that now stood listening to the briefing, Jonas couldn't help notice how few of them he had gotten to know since being onboard. Sure, there were some the he had fast become friends with, but most of those were in the same platoon as he was. Still, these guys were the best--or so he had heard. It had been one of the reasons why he had chosen this assignment.

"With all due respect Ma'am," Jonas spoke up after she had finished, "I've faced the Jem'Hadar quite a few times since I joined the Marines and there is no way I'm just gonna believe that they have effectively thrown down their weapons and are now all happy-go-lucky flowery-types with families. They're test-tube babies for goodness sake. They were bred for combat, and--if I recall correctly--there never were any Female Jem'Hadar soldiers, so they have to be up to something. I have never heard of any race of people who could change that fast."

Steven could see some of the Marines nodding in agreement. Others weren't as agreeable, but they probably hadn't faced the Jem'Hadar in combat before.

Furji didn't nod his head, as the others did, but the el-tee had a point. They were goddamned *monsters*. Monsters with children, perhaps. Then again, those monsters usually turned out to be the most vicious. He had to agree with Lieutenant Jonas on this one, something was *not* right about this whole picture. Captain Henderson had to be a goddamned fool not to see it. That, or a hopless optimist. Probably a dangerous cross of the both, Furji reckoned to himself.

Branwen looked at Jonas. She hadn't really had a chance to get to know the new Lieutenant very well. "Most of you have faced them before. And I know how tough that has been. Most of you have lost friends and relatives at the hands of Jem'Hadar. We are going down here today on a peaceful mission, but we are also going down prepared for anything." She paused looking them all in the eyes. "Anybody who cannot handle this--who has such strong feelings that he or she is afraid they cannot be objective down there--step forward now. You can stay on the ship with no hard feelings." She waited again. "Anybody causing a problem downstairs because of their tempers, I'll personally see to it that it is the end of your career."

Lia looked over at "Fang" Vox, the Lupin Corporal standing next to her. He'd only been on the Galaxy for a little over a week, but they had quickly become friends, of sorts. Her calming Deltan influence helped to balance his wild wolfine emotions. Silently, she wondered if he'd be able to control himself down there, among so many of the Jem'Hadar.

"Stop you're worrying," his husky voice suddenly said, surprising her. "I can *smell* your worrying. It's...not pleasant." He turned to look down on her. "We will do exactly as Lieutenant London has instructed us. If there is any battle waiting, it will be because *they* intiated, not us." He paused, then added while turning back to face forward. "Though, the wind doesn't smell right with this."

"Three's Company, Part I"

Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx
TAG Analyst/Tactical Liason

Lieutenant Commander James Corgan
Chief Of Security

Lieutenant T'Lan (APC: Dallas)
Deputy Chief of Security

== DECK 10 ==

Her discussion with Cassius had been...enlightening. She hadn't realized all that he had been through with the Hydrans and Rihannsu previously. Then again, she should have figured: there was still much about Cassius Henderson she didn't--and probably *wouldn't*--know. It especially unnerved her to know of her beau's close...*association* with Riov t'Vriesu. Not that she was jealous. 'Oh, no,' the blonde Trill snorted to herself, 'I'm not *jealous*. But that green-blooded bitch better not lay a single finger on...' Her thoughts were interrupted as she realized she had reached her destination--Transporter Room 4--and was standing in the middle of the still-open door.

She was overhearing--in between thoughts of her beau--a discussion between a very animated security chief, and a not-so-animated Vulcan security subordinate.

"...I am unfamiliar with the Jem'Hadar species, Commander," T'lan stated matter-of-factly, as only Vulcans could. "I was assigned to starship duty after the war, and during the war I was in the academy. Though we have had extensive xenological studies of the species, I feel that your experiences with the Jem'Hadar would be most...insightful."

James looked...astonished at his Vulcan deputy. He was still trying to get over the shock of recent events, such as being her parasitic spirit's personal b*tch, having his girlfriend propose Andorian-style marriage between the three, a baby on the way from an ex-girlfriend Romulan spy, and Christmas.

Especially Christmas. But let's not go there.

Rather than face T'lan, who was during this past week giving him the creeps, he decided to throw his energies all out into their discussion--anything to forget that delectable Vulcan backside. They barely paid heed to the Lieutenant Commander on the transporter pad as they talked.

Janx just looked from the transporter chief, a smallish Andorian chan (then again, it could have been a *zhen*; they were both the rarer, more androginous sexes of the odd blue-skinned species) just shrugged hir antennas in an "I don't know" look that translated between any species.

Amused, Janx stood at the foot of the transport chamber pad, watching the animated human and the stone-solid Vulcan woman. She smiled: they were quite the pair. She could pick up on the *vibe* coming from them. She continued to listen to the man--Corgan, Chief of Security, she recalled--while her bright green eyes couldn't help but trace the form of the Vulcan woman.

"Well...where do I start?" James said, a shrug in his shoulders and a bemused smile on his face, "I too almost missed the war. If my grades didn't fall in my second year, I would have made Red Squad and that would have thrown me into command school and tacked another year onto my education. But no, I had to be a f**kup, and that got me sent to the trenches post-haste... happens when you lose your parents and your girlfriend bangs the entire academy Parisi's Squares team in the span of three months but that's another story altogether. Hello Lieutenant Commander." He waved to the TAG officer, his cynicism lacking the nerve to blush about revealing too much about himself.

"Oh, um, hello, Commander," Janx said as she blushed, realizing that the Vulcan woman was also looking squarely at the young Trill with a raised eyebrow. Janx admitted to herself that she had been actually checking the other woman out; she had much curvier hips than the blonde Trill did. She quickly moved her gaze back to the human. "Liuetenant Commander Ekoma Janx, Tactical," she introduced herself with the extension of her hand.

"Ah! Glad to meet you!" James shook the TAG officer's hand. "And just in time for Dominion War storytime. My experiences, though only a year long, are more than enough for seasoned veterans. Since I was a mental-case at the time, I was part of a shock regiment of troops. Mostly f**kups and castoffs with nothing better to do than to get in the way of a phased polaron pulse. By the way, that's the Jem'Hadar's favorite weapon. Nasty weapon. Used to cut through our shields like nothing. During my year, I learned alot about the Cardassians, Breen, and the Jem'Hadar. All of it very facinating. Come to see the sights, Lieutenant Commander?"

Janx blinked her green eyes several times at the rapidity of James's Jem'Hadar recount. In some ways, the human reminded Janx of her best friend, Joka Tur. Joka had always been a quiet one when they were kids, but when he had recieved Tur...well! The symbiote was absolutely *chatty*. About *everthing*. It took Joka almost a full year to get a hold on Tur's long-winded (and often, quite fantastical) stories. But then again, when you were a 400-year old slug, you had *alot* of stories you'd want to get out.

Janx stepped to the side of the security chief, exchanging glances with (or trying to, at least) the Vulcan woman, who she *still* didn't know the name of. The Trill's eyes questioned the Vulcan's dark pools, asking 'Is he *always* this animated?'. Though the exotic pointed-ear woman didn't say anything, her eyes revealed a simple, 'yes'.

"...Well, alot of it is second hand knowledge," James continued, unaware of the women's silent sidebar. "Gossip in the trenches or on ship, but I bit I saw myself. I learned that the Jem'Hadar were genetically engineered for war. Increased strength... almost comparable to your people but not quite, T'lan. Good agility, hand-eye is second to none, and their skin isn't just chitonous for show. It's as tough as Denebian Alligator leather and those spines really hurt when they punch and head-butt you. Don't let them do that."

'T'lan,' Janx repeated to herself at the mention of the Vulcan's name. Such a sexy name... Janx blushed again. She had never told Cassius about some of her, um, *fantasies*. She didn't really know how he'd take to them, *especially* after having just gotten out of the strange...relationship...he'd had with that Andorian woman, T'Shani.

"Facinating." T'lan responded, to both Janx and James, "Starfleet has failed to mention that tactical advantage," T'lan noted. "Though they mention the phasing effect."

"It's true. They can disappear," James nodded. "And they can regulate body temperature to fool our tricorders...but only to a certain degree. Use motion-tracking and light-distortion detection--it's not as good, but it does work. Oh, and hope they didn't take their morning ketracel-white. Without it, they can't phase. Found that out when we had a to guard for a few weeks."

"Um, *Sirs*?" the transporter officer broke into James's monologue. "I was supposed to beam you down five minutes ago."

"Oh!" James sighed, "Sorry about that. Go right ahead."

As they all stood straight, preparing themselves for the temporal distortion of transportation, Janx almost thought she caught a Mona Lisa-esque smile from the otherwise-unemotional T'lan. She wasn't sure, though, as the bright shimmer of the distortion beam began to dissolve the starship's interior around her.

“Camping trip” Part One

Principle characters

Engineering - Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe

Science - Ensign Xavier Smith

Civilian – Engineering trainee – Quentite Ambassador Turan Trelar

Civilian – Engineering Specialist Michael McDowell

Turan stood at the door to the Galaxy's main transporter room. Twenty minutes ago, his trans-comm. chirped and Dhani.... lieutenant Eshe, asked him to take his 'camping equipment' and meet her in Transporter room 3.

The tall Quentite didn't dare to ask what camping equipment meant. He dressed into a brand new (replicated) boy-scout uniform, packed his boy-scout equipment into his back-pack, added a few fruits and closed the back-pack's lid. Finally, preparation was finished by knotting an indigo coloured scarf around the strap. Turan had replaced the original orange scarf with this one after the Dithparu incident - a tribute to the crewman called Indigo Renkert who was killed.

So far so good. It took him about ten minutes to get into the role of a perfectly dressed Quentite boy-scout representative. Nevertheless he arrived at the transporter room first and took his place next to the door waiting.

For the next ten minutes several teams - of course dressed in the usual light Starfleet uniforms went by, stared at the uniformed giant for a few split seconds, entered the room and finally disappeared encased by a pale blue light.

Turan looked into the corridors leading to the transporter room. - Still no sign of Dhani ... no life sign at all.

Another five minutes passed with not so much as a whisper to be heard, not even from the half asleep chief *in* the transporter room. And then it was as if the corridor was alive with sound, laughter to be exact.

Dhanishta and Michael rounded the corner, arms linked, as they strolled down the hall, "I'm serious." Dhani said, obviously continuing a conversation they were having, "I plan to get down there, find a beach, and top up my tan!"

"Come on, your not that serious, are you?" Michael grinned. Imaging Dhani lying on a beach while on an away mission was something that made him laugh.

She looked up at the face Michael made and pulled out a pair of sunglasses from her pocket, slipping them on in reply, she continued down the hall towards Turan.

Grinning slightly she looked her former husband, from another twisted future time line, up and down. "I erm...” she straightened her face and resolved to say nothing about his attire.

For a moment Michael's smile disappeared. "Hello Turan, how are you doing?" The smile came back soon enough though. It was just that he had the strange feeling he got caught red-handed, and he didn't even know why.

Turan looked at the two people arriving. One of them he knew well; Lieutenant Eshe. The other face was somehow familiar, too, a civilian Terran male. Turan mentally replaced the males clothes with a Starfleet uniform ... oh yes of course ...!

"Hello Mr McDowell" Turan answered.

Then he turned towards Lt. Eshe. "Hello Lieutenant Eshe. I'm a little bit overdressed, am I?"

Michael walked on, chuckling a little bit. ‘Overdressed’ was kind of an understatement. But still, Turan tried his best to follow procedure.

Dhani smiled and looked down at the floor for a second, the virtue of wearing shades is that no one could see your eyes, they, after all, were the biggest tell-tail when lying, "Nah, you look fine Turan."

"Holy hell this is just friggin wonderful," Xavier thought to himself as he walked toward the transporter room. He had never been one to question the orders of a superior officer, especially his ship's captain, yet he did wonder why he was sent in one of these away teams. Onto a planet with Jem’Hadar at that. He hated the Jem’Hadar, in many ways and on many levels. He couldn't been down though what made him hate them even more: the fact that they killed every friend and the girl he loved on the Gettysburg or that by a cruel twist of fate that he didn't die with them when the ship went up. I suppose that the Captain figured he was a Starfleet officer, and was able to effectively put aside his personal feelings and accomplish the mission in a professional manner. Or perhaps the Captain knew the strength of Xavier's medication. Whatever motivation may have been, it didn't matter. "I just want to get this mission over, and get the hell off that damned planet as soon as possible." Xavier said internally as he started down the hall to the transporter room.

The deck seemed to be stacked against him as he would be spending quite a bit of time with other members of the crew. Hopefully his research duties would keep him at arms length from others, yet Xavier still had that nagging feeling that someone would prod and pry at him and not let him have a moment’s peace or solitude. As Xavier stood next to the door, he pulled out a hypospray from his small shoulder pack. He placed it against his neck, and depressed the trigger. Within seconds, Xavier's irritation and displeasure was replaced with the emotionless, cold demeanour of a Vulcan. He entered the transporter room and saw his fellow away team mates standing there. He had never seen any of them on the ship before, but that was of no consequence.

Dhani looked up at the approaching person and pulled out a data padd from her waist band. Quickly checking the picture on the biography she smiled and stepped away from the group. “Ensign Xavier Smith?” she questioned.

Dhani extended her hand in greeting, “Lieutenant Eshe.” she said introducing herself. Turning to face the others she gestured towards the new addition, “Guys, this is Ensign Xavier Smith from science, he will be joining us.”

Turning back to Smith she introduced Michael and Turan, “Ensign this is our engineering specialist Mr Michael McDowell, and Ambassador Turan Trelar.” Dhani took a step back and leant against the wall whilst they all said their hellos.

As an uncomfortable silence enveloped the group Dhani folded her arms.

"So everyone excited about a planet full of Jem'Hardar?" she questioned wincing, well someone had to mention it, better now than when they were down there.

"Did you have to say that?" Michael answered. His face betrayed he didn't like it at all. He remembered all to well the hostage Situation on Cardassia Prime years ago.

"Gotta face facts." Dhani replied in a serious tone. She removed her shades and looked at Michael, "I need to know that you’re not going to have a problem when we are down there." her face was neutral, completely masking her own feelings towards the Jem'Hardar.

Turan remembered the species Jem’Hadar from the school essay about species involved in the dominion war. Jem’Hadar were listed on the enemy side. Obviously things had changes since the end of that war.

"I can't be neutral Dhani, you know that." No use to lie about it was Michael train of thought.

"They aren't enemies anymore, aren't they?" asked Turan

Turning to face Turan, Michael sighed. "I have still a hard time believing that. They're not like us you know."

Dhani stared at Michael, "Turan has no pre-conception, and I think it should stay that way." she said giving Michael a hard look.

"Sorry?" the oversized boy-scout looked puzzled. "Who is not like whom?"

"And that means he shouldn't know the facts" Michael said without waiting for Dhani to answer Turan's question. "He has to know all the fact. Who knows, maybe they're not the nice guys they appear to be now."

“Fine!" Dhani replied, she turned and looked at Turan, "The Jem'Hardar are murderous bastards, jumped up on drugs, ruthless. Their motto is, and correct me if I’m wrong Michael; 'Victory is life'. They are killers, they were bread to be killers and in some peoples mind they will always be killers." Dhani didn’t give away her own opinion on them, in fact she didn’t even stare at Michael as she concluded her brief on the Jem'Hardar. Instead she simply slipped on her shades and stepped forward through the door into the transporter room.

Turan turned towards McDowell. "I read about the Jem’Hadar. I know they once were in-vitro-products on clone facilities. Nevertheless they didn't try to shot or thrall me yet - so I don't see any reason to count them as hostile"

"But we aren't sent there for shore leave, are we?" asked Turan "what do they really want us to do down there?"

"Ask Dhani, I'm sure she knows best." Michael was not in the mood to answer that question anymore. If Dhani thinks they should all embrace the Jem'Hadar now...she might as well be tripping on LSD. And why the bad temper anyway?

Dhani looked up at them and smiled slightly, "Well as long as we don’t get busted! Officially we are to check out the planet the people and see what kinda technology they have. But if everyone votes for beach time fun, well I would be forced to… ya know, join in. After all someone’s gotta keep and eye out for the civilians... right?" she flashed them both a grin before stepping on to the transporter padd.

Michael rolled his eyes and whispered "Women..." as he walked onto the transporter...

Turan took his backpack and chose one of the remaining three transporter pads.

With them all assembled on the transporter pad Dhani nodded at the Ensign, “Energise” she called out.

Ensign Roberts touched some controls on the panel in front of him. The team were encased in the transporters pale blue light and finally vanished.

ooc- And the end to the dinner JP. Sorry it took so long to get out.

"Dinner"

Lieutenant JG Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Ensign Paulo DiMillo, Intelligence Officer

*****

Paulo and Cora sat on the couch talking about random things. Dinner had been over for about an hour now, and both held a drink in their hands. "So," Paulo started, "what made you get into Starfleet Intelligence?" He asked.

"Initially it was a whim. Finding other people's secrets sounded interesting. However I didn't know that Intel had their own reasons for pursuing me as well. Turns out my Psi ability caught their attention but they choose to keep that fact from me," Cora replied.

Paulo nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes I wonder why I chose this. Sometimes I wish I had taken up operations or becoming a pilot." Paulo took a sip of his drink.

"The driving reason behind joining Intel was my sister... my younger sister. In all likelihood she is dead. With Section 31 pretty much gone, and all their pet projects being investigated, nothing about my sister has come up. Sometimes I wish she would pop up after Section 31 fell. That she has some abilities that they wanted to use." He looked down at his drink, realizing he had lost count to the number of drinks he had.

"Pet projects...lab rats whatever," Cora replied absently. The confession she'd just made out loud to Paulo terrified her even though she wouldn't let anyone know that.

Then Cora did something very unusual for the normally, quiet reserved Intel Officer. "Paulo you look very handsome tonight. Dare I use the words extremely hot. In fact you did that day you showed back up in my office." At this point Cora didn't know who was talking more her inner desires or the wine, honestly none of that mattered.

Paulo looked over at her, a little shocked. He didn't say anything. Instead he moved over to her, took her hand in his and kissed her. He had no idea what was making him do this, but he wouldn't be ashamed of it in the morning.

The kiss stirred up emotions that had been hidden for a very long time. Cora allowed herself to fall prey to them. Returning his kiss with passion.

The kiss continued for a few second before it finally broke. "Well," he said. "I think we know where we each stand." He had never felt this way before, and what he did next was all on impulse. He leaned back in and kissed her.

"That's a given," Cora managed when she had a moment to catch her breath. "I was very serious when I said you look hot," running a hand down his arm provocatively. "And its safe to say I'd like to see more of you."

"Lead the way," Paulo replied holding her hand in his still.

Getting up from the couch she headed towards the bedroom. It was the only response needed.

*** 0800 Next Day ***

Paulo's eyes opened starring straight up at the ceiling. He held Cora in his arms. She was still sound asleep. She looked so peaceful resting there. A few moments after he awoke she started to stir. "Hey there," he said.

"Morning," Cora replied with a smile. It was the first time in a long time she felt that content. "I'm glad to know finding you hear isn't just a dream."

Paulo smiled and leaned over and kissed on her on the forehead. "So, I guess this would officially counts as a date huh?" He asked. "This is going to be difficult being in the same department."

Cora nodded, "Yes I'd say it does. As far as difficult goes, since when have We not enjoyed taking on things that seem impossible?"

Paulo smiled at her. "True, but I may have an idea," he told her.

"An idea?" Cora inquired, "What kind of idea?"

"I could go to the Captain and ask for a department transfer," Paulo told her. "He still has ties with SFI, so I am sure he could arrange something."

For a long moment Cora just looked at him, "Paulo if you leave Intel you'll have to undergo a memory wipe. That means you won't know me and won't remember us..."

"I can get by that if I ask to be put on the Vanguard squadron. Their Intelligence Liaison just got a transfer, and they are lacking someone with experience."

"Maybe but how did you hear they need an Intelligence Liaison?"

"I may not be the most sociable person on the ship," he told her, "but I do know who to know and what questions to ask. In this case, the previous Liaison. He was just transfered back for more training and the Major hasn't gotten a replacement yet."

"I see," Cora replied with a smile.

"Don't worry," Paulo replied. "I am sure I can get used to it, and plus we will would still be working together from time to time."

She nodded, "Let me know what you find out. I really should get ready for the day. It wouldn't do for the Chief Intel Officer to be late, no matter how much I'm enjoying this."

Paulo smiled and kissed her again.

"Runabout Down" part 1

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Teyri Jen
FO Xiaz Padma
Pilot Ayden O'Connor
Pilot Ember Lansky
Pilot Anna Lewis

-----------------------------
Runabout Malloreon (Vanguard Squadron AWACS Runabout)
-----------------------------

"So according to scans," Rex was filling in the others from his spot at the Runabout's helm, "There's about five thousand Jem Hadar here. They've even built a city. Even stranger, there's a bunch of Jemmie women - and kids."

Ayden leaned over the console and frowned, "How can that be possible? Last I recall the Jem'Hadar weren't trying to colonize this part of space... they were trying to conquer it."

"Well, that's a good question, but the one on my mind would be why are there women and children? That's not... something we've seen before, right? Women Jem Hadar? If we have seen that before, then I think that Star Fleet is holding their cards pretty close to their vest, or something like that," Jen said.

"No idea." the Trill shrugged. "I'm guessing that's the kind of thing the big boys will figure out. That's not our job, though."

"So, everything seems to be going okay at the moment. Why are the fighter pilots going down if everything seems to be under control?" Jen asked Rex. She'd been wondering about that as soon as they'd received the orders to go down in the runabout.

"Yeah, exactly what is our job?" Anna Lewis asked. Her hands was clutching the armrests of the Mallorean so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. She was used to space flight and hover cars, but nothing in between. Taking a runabout into the atmosphere was unsettling, especially when she wasn't at the controls, able to anticipate every bump and shudder of the craft. At least Major Rex was leading this mission in person.

Anna was tagging along for a couple of reasons, none of which had anything to do about the seasick feeling that was keeping her sitting quietly in the back of the compartment. Officially, it was because she needed more experience. That thought reminded her of the role playing game her little brother's dorky friends had played when they were younger. ~Now if only I can come up with a little more experience, maybe I can level up to Flight Officer,~ she thought, trying not to think about the flight. The other, unofficial, reason was that no self respecting SFFC pilot was going to leave their wingman somewhere else while they flew a mission. Corran and Anna were no exception.

"Because…" Corran started. "As friendly as they might seem, they're still Jem Hadar. We don't know why they're here - or why the Romulans or especially the Hydrans - are here, either. So we're doing a tactical evaluation. We all know the kind of spots we'll need to hit in an airstrike. We need to identify their S-to-A defenses - not to mention figure out just how "welcoming" these... people really are."

"Ah," Jen replied noncommittally.

Ayden heaved an internal sigh, leaning towards the view screen. Most of these pilots were just that, pilots. They weren't as proficient in away team missions as most of the others, and if things got hot it would be hard to tell how they'd react without stick and rudder. He had some experience in security from his enlisted days, and he could only hope that would help.

But there was something about this whole situation that was bothering him. He had missed the first war because of his father, and there was a nagging sensation that no matter how much he wanted this mission to matter... it wouldn't bring him the satisfaction of service he desired so much.

Though of course, O'Connor should have been aware that at least two of his squadmates were joined Trills, with a very large number of years - and in Corran's case in particular - a wide variety of professions in their pasts.

"Which can just as easily be done by the tactical guys there on the bridge," Padma replied as she adjusted for some wonky readouts in the impulse engines. Wonky, of course, being the laymen's term; she could elaborate, but the part of her that was an engineer didn't feel the need to do that for the benefit of the rest of her, which, honestly, the rest of her was okay with. So long as they didn't blow up, it was all good. "Their long-range sensor scans work just fine. Don't see why they have to send us down. This? Is not our job."

"Maybe," Corran shrugged noncommittally as he adjusted their heading. They'd been given their flight path by the city's astro control, a supposedly safe pass through the s-to-a defenses. And flying in *did* have the advantage of serving as aerial reconnaissance. "But then, active sensors would light up their detection grids in a minute. Better to use the mark 1 eyeball. It, at least, never fails."

"Well, I guess why that's we get the big bucks, right? They say go to it, we say, yeah, sure," Jen murmured over to Pad. Truth be told, she wasn't that happy about it either. It was something that she'd done several times before, gone in under false pretenses in order to scope something out, make sure that they had all the information available at their fingertips. Every time she had to do it, she hoped it was the last time.

"It's not like the Jem'Hadar are so naïve they would think that a bunch of Fighter Pilots are going down as peace corps. It's like asking big sharp-clawed cats try to look like they were kittens and tease out all they can. We want to make sure we're not missing anything, makes more sense to get the right people who can blend in a little better, ain't it," Ember spoke up in irritation from her side. She just didn't have the stomach to act friendly and schmooze with the Jemmies. It sounded more challenging than an all-guns-blazing firefight.

"That's what I'm saying," Pad muttered as she shook her head, finishing her task with a definitive 'beep' of the controls and the slapping of her hands on the smooth surface of the console. She swiveled her chair to look at the others in the cockpit.

"All I know," she said, "is that I didn't sign up for this to be some Intel Spook. They want the information, that's their job. They go down and get it, then dissect it; Tactical interprets it; we blow it up. That's the chain of information, that's how it happens, and I don't like the idea of the causal arrow to getting all twisted around and discombobulated. It'll make things too confusing and I'm not sure my little Fighter Jockey brain can handle it. Might make me think I'm Marty fuckin' Batanides." She glanced between the faces of those staring at her. "Not that I'm saying I'm not pleased as punch that we're going down there. I'm just saying I want to drive." She looked pointedly at Rex. "Why can't I drive?"

Jen raised her hand. "Ooh, me too, me too."

"I'm not too worried about this. It's not normal for us, but it's not exactly the cloak and dagger nonsense we've been seeing on the news," Anna injected herself back into the conversation. The ride was still bothering and distracting her, but she was slowly adjusting. The seasick feeling was gone, and that was a big leap in the right direction, as far as Anna was concerned. Brushing a stray lock of blonde hair away from her eyes, she stood back up and peeked out the window. "All clear on this side. This is just like force recon, right?"

"Pretty much." the Major confirmed with a nod. "Our job's not always cruising around taking potshots at capships, after all."

Ayden sighed again, this time audibly as he looked towards the two female pilots with a frustrated glare. He wasn't sure if his attitude was really against Jen and Pad though, but at this point he didn't have anywhere else to direct it. "We're also Starfleet officers, and it's our responsibility to provide assistance no matter our intended function. Suck it up and drive on..."

"Down, children." the Major said, not taking his direct attention away from his flying. "And you're not flying, Pad, because you forget when you're *not* in a fighter whenever you handle anything larger. Plus, I'm the Major. That means I get to drive."

With that, O'Conner disappeared into the rear compartment of the runabout. Corran had to shake his head. O'Connor was simply going to have to learn to lighten up. Grousing pilots, after all, was one of the oldest traditions in the service.

"I would," Pad said, "if I was driving." She offered a toothy grin, but he'd already gone. "How can someone that cute have no sense of humour?" Pad muttered, smirking as she cocked a glance toward Jen. "Honestly. Panties in a twist. Did he really say 'intended function'?"

Ember looked mutely at the doors Ayden had walked through and felt a sudden, inexplicable sliver of exasperation at Pad's mocking. "Get over this already and stop our whining. Just focus on getting the job done right," She said abruptly. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and left the console, following after Ayden without so much as a backward glance at the rest.

"Yeah, Jen," Pad said. "Don't act like such a child." She glanced at her wingmate and stuck out her tongue playfully. "What do you think? Those two been enjoying a toss without telling anyone? How rude of them. What do you think, Rex? We don't really go by the adage that internal booty is bad booty now, do we?"

"I think it's inappropriate to speculate on the sex lives of your fellow officers." the Trill managed to reply with a completely straight face.

"That's because if we discussed it in order of seniority, we'd never get past you," Anna smirked, before thinking better of it. She hastily amended, "Sir."

"Great. I'm surrounded by smartasses."

"Runabout Down" part 2

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant Teyri Jen
FO Xiaz Padma
Pilot Ayden O'Connor
Pilot Ember Lansky
Pilot Anna Lewis

------------------
Rear Compartment Runabout Malloreon
------------------

Ember entered the rear compartment, her gaze immediately falling on Ayden. She had blatantly ignored and avoided him since the 'turbolift incident' and even when they had to tolerate each other's presence in the same space, she was so uncommunicative and detached towards him that they might as well be strangers. But his prickly attitude just now was entirely over the top. There was a limit to how far one should let emotions – or its lack thereof, influence one.

"Ayden, we need to talk," She said tersely, cutting to the chase.

Ayden had taken a chair and moved it close to the viewport, where he now sat leaning his arms forward crossed against the backrest. The planet was slowly beginning to swallow the stars, and it wouldn't be long until the Mallorean arrived at its destination.

At first it looked like he wasn't about to acknowledge her presence, but as she took another step closer to him he asked her something... unexpected. "What did you do during the war, Ember?"

Briefly, she gaped at him. It was a strange question and so irrelevant she had half a mind to disregard it. "As anyone would. I fought in the Resistance. What's it to you?" She asked suspiciously, unsure if he was merely trying to divert the topic or being genuinely interested.

Ayden sighed internally, leaning his chin against the backrest. For a moment he started to chuckle, which he was sure would only rile up her aggressive tendencies. It certainly wasn't intentional, in fact Ember was as far from his mind as could be possible at this moment. But there was something in her words "as anybody would" that stirred up his pathetic sense of amusement.

"Do you know what I did during the war?"

She wanted to roll her eyes at how far they had departed from the issue she wanted to discuss, but there was something about his self-deprecating manner that stopped her. She didn't know how she did it, but she managed to summon up the scraps of her patience for just a few more seconds. He wouldn't want to be in proximity to her when it finally ran short. "No. But I'm sure you're going to tell me."

He looked at her hard, with eyes that almost completely pierced through her flesh so that he could stare deep into her soul. That's when he realized why she was here . "You think this is about you, don't you?" He asked her directly. "Damn, you really are big on yourself aren't you?"

Ember could barely curb her exasperation. She didn't come in here for this. "You're telling me that you didn't react with this sick-ass attitude because you're uncomfortable with me being in the same room as you?" Her voice was full of disbelief, and the way she asked made the question sound like a challenge daring him to say no.

Ayden really didn't know where all of this sudden hostilities was coming, but he found himself growing more angry at her, the others, hell even the world by the minute. It was probably something he would have to come out and apologize for later. "It has *nothing* to do with you Ember." He replied quickly.

She folded her arms and stared at him expectantly. "So what is it then?"

That stopped Ayden in his tracks as much as it did her. It wasn't like he was wanting to talk about it, but he simply couldn't stand around when almost a decade worth of frustration was building up unexpectedly. That's why he at least went into the other room. He sat back down into his chair, unsure if he really wanted to open up to the one person who would probably shoot him down faster than a... Jem'Hadar. If he was certain about one thing, it was not to expect any sympathy from Ember Lansky.

Ember exhaled loudly, having no idea what game he was playing, if any. There was something wrong here. She could tell obviously that this away mission was affecting him -- the mild agitation and pensiveness in his mood was perfectly readable. But she didn't know what, and she had an uncomfortable feeling that she was being strung along. "So?"

Ayden let loose another sigh, and he could sense all the anger welling up inside him. There, Ember stared at him unflinchingly. She watched him watch her with the sort of determination that wasn't likely to wear out. "I didn't do a damn thing in the war, Ember..." he began, his voice obviously uncertain as to whether or not it wanted to continue. "You know something I noticed that we both had in common?"

Was that why he was tearing himself up inside? Because ghosts of ages past were surfacing and the guilt of doing absolutely nothing during a war that was long over was wrecking havoc with his conscience? It was ridiculous. The war was over. He knew that. And he should be moving ahead rather than immerse himself in memories on an away mission. It was more than just bad timing, it was irresponsible. "OK, fine. What?" She asked, going along for the moment to see what else he had up his sleeve.

"We never talked about our fathers..."

------------------
Forward Compartment Runabout Malloreon
------------------

"Has anyone here ever actually... talked to a Jem'Hadar?" Anna asked as she peeked out the starboard window, keeping an eye on the ground. In the distance, a Hydran landing craft could be seen descending toward the Jem'Hadar settlement. The Dominion War had been over by the time Anna and Heather had graduated from high school. The closest they'd come to experiencing it was the day the Breen had bombed San Francisco.

"Yeah, once back during the war." Rex started to reply, and then his expression altered radically. "Shit." he muttered. "Red alert. All hands, strap in!" was about all he had time to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Teyri reaching for the shield control, but he was forced to go evasive. The maneuver sent the Bajoran woman, who hadn't had time to strap in, tumbling across the cockpit.

For all Rex's piloting skill, in atmosphere the Runabout had only slightly more maneuvering capacity than a forty ton gold brick. Which was to say, very nearly not. Especially not when trying to outrun a rather determined and infinitely more maneuverable missile.

The explosive results were not unexpected.

-----------------
Aft Compartment Runabout Malloreon
------------------

Never talked about their fathers?

That answer caught her momentarily off guard. She didn't want to talk about her father, nor even *think* about her father. She didn't know who he was, and had never known him. It was irrelevant, period, case closed -- if only the doors to the heart were as easy to shut and lock down as that of a case book. "I think I've had just about enough, Ayden," She said impatiently, looking entirely unfazed if her voice hadn't wavered slightly.

Ember mustered herself. "We are on the same team, and like it or not, we have to work together. I don't want us to be treading eggshells around each other and I don't want you putting the rest of the team in any potential danger because *you* couldn't get over whatever's going on through your mind. You gotta deal. Focus on the job at hand. Everything else comes later. OK?" She asked. She might have sounded harsh but it was necessary to be firm.

Then the world went crazy.

The missile struck the runabout amidships, with nothing more to stop it than maneuvering shields and some light armor. By luck of the entity the humans named 'Murphy', it also struck the structural separation line where the aft and forward compartments met. The ship neatly separated into two halves, both tumbling towards opposite ends of the jungle below.

"Stranded: Part II"

By: Pilot Ayden O'Connor
Pilot Ember Lansky

==--==

After pulling together what supplies that had been left intact after the crash, both Ayden and Ember hobbled out of the burnt treeline and into the thickness of the forest. Their situation was pretty pathetic. They were both wounded, out of communication with the Galaxy, and had no idea where they were headed. It was obvious that the Jemmies had raised some sort of field as soon as either one of them tried using their tricorders or communicators. All they were getting was distorted readings. As far as either of them could tell they wouldn't know the Jem'Hadar was coming until they were nearly ontop of them.

Their only hope would be to make it out of the field and reach out for help, assuming that it was a small field and that the Galaxy was still out there to hear them. Progress howe! ver, was painfully slow.

Ember was keeping up as much as she could. Her journey was made easier with Ayden supporting her, but even if she could endure the pain, they were not making good time. In a few hours, the sky would be dark and unable to see where they were going, they would be open targets. The solution was obvious. "You should leave me behind," She spoke up suddenly as they trudged through the undergrowth.

Ayden kept moving while keeping Ember in his tow. At first he considered pretending that he hadn't even heard her, but what subtle reactions he did have were enough for her to notice. He winced at the thought of leaving her behind, not just because she was a fellow officer, but because he cared deeply for her. Ember rarely said anything without meaning it, which meant that he could have a hard time convincing her that staying behind was simply not an option.

"I'm not leaving you behind..." he began firmly, shifting her weight over his shoulder to make it easier for her to walk. "That's final."

Final? She drew in a deep breath. While she had sucked it in and not let her steps falter, the truth was that the pain was rapidly draining her. She might not have issued a word of complaint, but she was beginning to grow tired from the long trek. She was tough, and she could force herself to persevere on if need be. Yet, she wasn't the only person whose life was on the line. There was Ayden, and she would never forgive herself if something happened to him because of her. "Leave me behind. You'll be faster without me. You can come back for me later," She persisted stubbornly to convince him.

She was almost thrown to the ground by the sudden stop of momentum as Ayden forced their escape to a halt. He turned to face her, grabbing her firmly by both shoulders and looking hard into her eyes. "Damnit Ember, we're going to get out of here together even I h! ave to carry you the rest of the way. Now I've never left anybody behind in my life, and I am certainly not going to start with you."

He paused there, giving Ember enough time to see the determination in his gaze. He wasn't sure if she was going to stir up a contest to fact considering that he had never been put in a situation like this where someone might have been left behind, but that didn't change the fact that he wouldn't have anyways.

It was during that second of gaze that he had his first chance to really see how badly she had taken the fall. There were decent gashes across her face, black grime mashed so thickly that it would take hours in the sonic shower to remove. She really was giving it her best, and he couldn't keep going without giving her that much recognition.

"So stop whining already..."

That would have made her laugh if not for the tenseness of the situation. She could see his concern for her writte! n all over his face. It made her want to yield to his determination and just carry on, come what may. If they tumbled over a ravine, if they encountered a pack of Jem'Hadar, if they were captured -- at least they faced it together. For an instant, she was tempted to surrender. But that instant passed, and rationality took over. "No, *you* listen to me," She said firmly, meeting his gaze, equally obstinate, the steel in her eyes telling him she wasn't going to bend.

"Think with your head, Ayden, and let's not get sentimental about this. You have to go on ahead. You'll be faster without me, your chances of survival would be higher without me. And leaving me here doesn't mean you're leaving me to die. I can fend for myself better than you think I can. I'll hide, wait for you to contact the ship and get help. I'll be okay," She told him resolutely. And one person getting killed – if she did get killed - was better than two, she added m! entally, but Ember kept that morbid thought to herself.

Ayden shook his head, his brows furrowed intently over her defiance. He stepped closer to her, so close to where they could feel their exhausted breaths falling upon each other. His hands left her shoulders and cradled her neck gently. His words however, weren't so gentle. They were as straight forward as they had always been. "Didn't I tell you to stop whining?" He hoped it wasn't so obvious how badly he just wanted to kiss her at that moment. He could almost sense the same urge within her.

She did. She wanted to lean over, press her lips against his and feel his warm breath on hers. But considering where they were, it would have been the most stupid thing to do. She wanted him out of here, not get him killed for some roll in the hay. A small smile drifted across Ember's mouth. "I'm not whining," She said instead, her tone softer but in no way had she wavered.

As much as! he didn't want to, he pried himself away from that temptation. Pulling her arm around his shoulders he heaved her up so that her weight was no longer on her bad foot. The first step was the most difficult because he could tell she wanted to stay put and fight it out, but he had more weight behind him, so she came right along. "...besides, it's not sentiments... it's common sense. I don't want to have to be the one to explain to the Major why I had to leave you behind." He lied with a small grin. "A prodigy like you lost to the Jemmies, he'd be very broken up about it." He lied, "I mean it, there could very well be tears."

Naturally, she protested his attempt to carry her as valiantly as she could. But when she failed, she couldn't resist it. His words made her smile again. "You just want to have one more person to share the blame with when you can't find your way out and end up getting lost. To save you the embarrassment, and of co! urse, from the giant careless mistakes you're likely to end up getting yourself into. Admit it," She retorted.

After the swift comeback, a momentary silence fell over their conversation when she paused. Then, she spoke again, and he could tell that she was finally relenting - grudgingly so and only because she had no choice about it, but she was relenting. "You're too stubborn, Ayden. Just too stubborn," She said gently.

Ayden chuckled lightly, grateful that her level of resistence had finally dulled enough to ease their journey. She was right of course, about everything. He knew that their chances of getting out of here alive against an enemy that nearly brought defeat upon the Federation was slim to none. But like Ember, he believed it more important that they face death together, than him regret leaving her for the rest of his life.

"Yeah well... at least we have that much in comm..."

Ayden felt a sudden slick! under his feet as he and Ember both crashed to the ground in a wet heap. There wasn't a chance for either of them to realize that they had stumbled onto a hidden slope before they were crashing through thin shrubs of bushes and twigs, sliding downwards towards an as of yet concealed end. Under the circumstances he did the only thing he could. He grabbed hold of Ember's hand and held on to her with everything he had. Neither of them could afford to be separated now. But it wasn't going to be an easy fall, no matter where they ended up.

He cried out for a number of times, even while their velocity increased uncontrollably. There was barely any time to register any pain because it was only replaced by more. Trying his very best to keep his eyes on Ember at the very least, he never even saw the branch coming at him.

Ember didn't even manage to suck in a breath. Plummeting rapidly, with the rush of air against her ears, their world ! suddenly exploded in painful iciness. The deep plunge into water overwhelmed her with disorientation. For a few brief moments, she couldn't react, the shock of the watery impact clouding her head completely. The river closed over them, and suffocating under the pressure, her lungs cried out for air. Immediately, her instincts leaped into action. Gripping tightly on Ayden's hand, and not letting go, she kicked her legs desperately and pushed them to the surface.

When her head finally broke the waters, she exerted every ounce of her strength to pull Ayden up along with her. His eyes were closed, a bloody gash on his head where he had taken the hit. She didn't let anxiety cripple her, resolutely anchoring a hand around his neck so his head would be kept above the water. The river continued to rush them onwards.

Looking up, she saw the great distance they had fallen and couldn't help but think they were lucky beyond belief. If this ha! d been land, they would both be dead, their bodies shattered upon rocks. Quickly, Ember swam for the river bank, thrusting her free hand through the water in swift, practiced strokes. It seemed to take forever, time stretching out to infinity. But at last, she clambered to shore, dragging Ayden after her.

Breathing heavily, Ember collapsed to the ground in an exhausted heap. Her body ached everywhere. As her gaze passed behind her, her eyes widened. She stared, momentarily unable to believe her eyes. Straight ahead was a dilapidated building with a fence around it meant to keep out intruders but it had long fallen into disrepair and its exterior was overgrown with weeds.

Despite the rundown appearance, a ghost of a smile crossed her lips. Shelter. She had stumbled upon shelter.

"The Gathering"

The Start of an All-Purpose Cultural Experience Away Team, featuring:
Ensign Kiel, Apprentice Counselor
Ensign Artim, Medical Officer
Ensign Raynor, Intelligence Officer
Lieutenant (j.g.) Cain Forrester, Ship's Historian

* * * * * * * *

Waiting probably wasn't one of the highlights of anybody's day, but it was a trait that those in Starfleet learned to cultivate meticulously it seemed. Or maybe it was merely juvenile eagerness nipping at his senses that had prompted the El Aurian adolescent to arrive early. Whatever the case, the Galaxy's young counselor-in-training stood by the far wall of the transporter room, asking himself for about the sixth or seventh time since he'd arrived there if he'd remembered the right one. Had it been four or two? With his luck, both were apt to be wrong and the team have assembled in transporter room one, waiting on him. Unfortunately, the transport schedule and chronometer belittled this anxious notion, reassuring the youth that he was not only in the right place, but also that he needed to learn a little patience. Realization of such a thing, however, was far from acceptance of the truth.

As a wise man had once noted, the truth most often kicks us in the nads. And rather than deal with insipid, disillusioned reality, the boy would much rather lose himself in a mystery. And what awaited them down on the planet were stories that he look forward to listening to. A new culture, fostered amid an old enemy. It was a tempting escape and also a new opportunity to get an appreciation for the Jem'Hadar up close. Without weapons, which was always a plus in any face-to-face encounter. It certainly made research much easier to accomplish. Though, it wasn't so much the details that had Kiel's eyes gleaming as it was the people themselves. The youth was a social whore, a fact of his being which the boy would not only have claimed but also pointed out that such was in the nature of his being.

Tugging absently on the loose jacket he wore, the adolescent ensign gazed once more at the chronometer, as though with just a look he might have willed time to speed itself forward. Not that one would have immediately known that the boy was an ensign. Kiel's dislike of wearing a uniform was complimented by the lax rules concerning Starfleet counselors which permitted them to operate without them, so long as the commanding officer consented to such a provision. As it was, Kiel had worn his uniform maybe once since having arrived onboard. And an away mission was not cause for him to make an exception to such a policy, as the youth was garbed in a pair of black trousers with a loose shirt of smoke gray that had black sleeves and shoulders. A plain, black coat was then draped over his lithe frame. A simple look, though one that favored the loose clothing typical of El Aurians. The parabolic silver and gold insignia of Starfleet was partially concealed, as the commbadge was clipped to the shirt and obscured by the lay of the jacket. A padd in hand and a palm-x tricorder in the pocket of his coat, the youth bore no other devices. Certainly not a phaser. One would sooner have gotten Kiel in uniform than a phaser inhis hand. Which wasn't to say that he didn't know how to use them... he just preferred not to.

Artim made a distinct effort to be a little early, something he was becoming a bit famous for around sickbay. He was a bit concerned about this mission, well, more then a bit concerned. Even though all indications were that these particular Jem'hadar appeared to be a bit more docile then your standard ones, as far as the Miran was concerned it would be a warm day on Breen before he'd trust a Jem'hadar to be peaceful. Hence why in addition to the type II phaser at his hip, he had his usual concealed type-I in his lab coat. He also had a standard field medkit as well as a biosurvey pack. Not only would he want to take some genetic samples from the Jem'hadar, but this was a new planet in an odd place and he'd bet his left arm that there was some kind of interesting bacteria he could write a paper on. Unlike Kiel, he was in full uniform. Helped ensure that people still took him seriously.

"Guess the kids are always the anxious ones." Artim said smiling at Kiel who had beaten him here.

"Yea..." Jem'hadar. Cain had never met one, but his prosthetic hand ached a phantom pain, and he held it tight. Psychological effects that might never go away.

"Well then, if this is everyone, lets get to it shall we? I would hate to keep the Jem'hadar waiting, they might just want to beat us then.", Artim said with a voice that approached sarcastic.

"Nah, more like steal genetic samples from us inorder to create a more diverse genetic community to help them survive later on, at least if the doctor that helped them knows his stuff and cares enough to mention that to them, which would mean they'd want minimal damage to their speicemens" Raynor said, entering the door, and then said in dopey sort of way "What did I just say?"

"Don't worry, nothing intellegent. Your reputation is safe Mr. Raynor.", Artim replied doing a poor job at stifiling a chuckle. He did have a good point though. This could very well be a trap to get genetic information and/or additional techincal equipment. No matter though, he always wanted to be a prisoner of the Jem'hadar again 

"You were being a jackass, which is far from odd. Just don't get them mad, I'd like to have at least one natural hand left."

"Ladies, if you're finished, the transporter pad awaits," Kiel quipped lightly, stepping up onto the raised platform and taking a position to the back of the group. He was just there as a cultural observer, certainly not in any kind of leadership role. He'd gladly leave that in the hands of Forrester. And even if the lieutenant wasn't there, there were two other ensigns to pick up the responsibility. His attention was directed at the task at hand, though purely for his own selfish reasons. He was absolutely brimming with anxious curiosity about these Jem'Hadar, a feeling matched only by his casual demeanor. He didn't have any distrust or misgivings about beaming down to the planet. What awaited them would be the same, regardless of preparation or equipment. He preferred to just fly at it and let slip what may.

"Energize," someone ordered a minute later, once everyone was in position. The grip of the transporter swirled reality around as the group dissolved into the air, a feeling of weightlessness which was then superimposed upon a new reality just moments later. Planetary gravity pulled at them as the team found themselves standing on an alien world, just outside the circular gates of a city filled with familiar gray-skinned people.

Ens. Artim - Medical Officer, USS Galaxy

with Dr. Valera t'Serov - Science Officer, Imperial Warbird Iaafvi

"What's She Doing Here"

===============================

At the first practical opportunity after the uncomfortable introductions, Artim broke off from Kiel and the others to go for a walk on his own. It was an unusual sight, Jem'hadar with seemingly normal families going on about their business much like any other humanoid species. Of course, the last time he'd been exposed to these people it was in a much different environment on a barren moon. The layout of the place was pretty much as he expected, slightly more then a semi-permanant military encampment. Asthetics weren't an issue, not like he expected it to be. These were bloodlusting, violent, bred only kill and maim poor innocent people barbarians and it would be a sunny day on Venus before Artim would put the words Jem'hadar and artist in the same sentence. However, Artim was still rather curious about these Jem'hadar.

Then again, the Jem'hadar were seemingly curious of him too. Most of them were giving him the "what's that child doing in a uniform" look. The "kids", something new for the Jem'hadar to some degree were getting an excited look in thier eyes. Their mothers, or that's who Artim assumed they were were giving them the usual motherly glare. Again, that too was new for the Jem'hadar. For once the kid and the scientist in him were both getting curious at the same time, a rarity. He really wanted to get a look at their DNA and their cloning labs, the latter is something he thought he'd never see the inside of.

However, it didn't take long for him to see something he knew he'd never see the inside of, at least not in this life. She was just standing on the corner taking notes on a PADD about ten meters away. She was tall for Romulan, just over a meter and half , with the usual short black hair, tanned skin, rough features and rather subdued greenish grey tunic and matching pants. The only features that stood out on her were her glistening emerald green eyes and a sparkling silver necklace. They'd met at a molecular genetics conference about eleven years ago. One thing led to another and they ended up working together on a biosurvey in the Velkis system for almost a year. They had grown rather close in that time,but they ended up deciding that *it* just couldn't work between them. Seeing her again though was still making his day.

Once Artim got to within five meters she looked up from her PADD and nodded in his general direction as he thought almost out loud, ~What's she doing here~.

"Jolan tru Valera, er, Doctor t'Serov . Its been a long time." Artim said looking up at the woman, half biting his tounge as he used the Romulan's first name

"Jolan tru Doctor Artim Shivar, and indeed it has. Wasn't expecting to see you again, most especially here. I also never thought I'd see you in one of those." She said looking at his uniform. Artim was struck at her use of his last name, especially since she was one of the few people who he'd ever told it to. It wasn't in his official Starfleet file. He wasn't sure whether it was his real last name or something he started using around humans to fit in, but it was still rather uncomfortable and reassuring at the same time.

" Eleven years ago I didn't think I would either, but after the war and...well...my last encounter with *them* I thought I'd give the Starfleet thing a try.", Artim replied, nodding his head in the direction of the Jem'hadar.

"I see. Aren't you wearing the wrong color though, I thought the science officers wore blue?"

"True, but oddly enough I went to Medical school. It would probably surprise you more that I started on a tactical and command track but then they decided that would be..."

"Ridiculous", Valera's wit not missing a step. "It wouldn't say much to an enemy to put a kid in the command chair much less reassure the crew."

Artim chuckled and replied, "Well, one of my kind is the second officer on the Hurricane, but yeah, it is a bit odd. However, you should see the looks I get in sickbay.

"I bet." Valera replied somewhat sarcastically "So, you're here to figure out this little mystery too."

"You might say that. Does seem like quite a puzzle, just like the soil bacteria on Velkis V.", Artim stifled a laugh at the end of the comment

"Indeed. We've managed to get some samples and have begun our analysis. Come to think of it, I'm supposed to meet one of the chief scientists for a tour of their primary labs in a couple hours. Would you like to join me?"

"Its a date then Valera. Lunch first?"

"No, I must speak to the Subcommander. 1400 at the main gate, I'm assuming one of your science officers might join us."

"Yeah, I got to be meeting up with them come to think of it. Take care Valera."

"Three's Company, Part II"

Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx
TAG Analyst/Tactical Liaison

Lieutenant Commander James Corgan
Chief Of Security

Lieutenant T'Lan (APC: Dallas)
Security Deputy

*****

Location: Planetside, outside Jem'Hadar village

The blue swirl of the transporter beam dissipated, leaving the party of three on the Jem'Hadar colony.

Several years ago, James would have considered this trip suicide, thanks--in most part--due to experiencing this kind of trip dozens of times. Thank god for peace.

His eyes were greeted to a pastoral land, a poster of Federation colony recruitment if he ever did see one. Transported to the precipice of a wide, yawning valley, he had the privilege of being one of the first humans to see the Jem'Hadar colony for what it was: a construct of beauty.

In the valley below, not very far from where they were, James saw the comings and goings of rural life before him. The town, too small to be a city yet too large to be a town, stretched between two freshwater lakes, a mix of simple mud and brick easily made by any colonist, to metal and synth towers and flats that were either freshly manufactured or cannibalized from the first wave's colony ships. He saw the mix of modern and medieval everywhere: solar panels aside water wheels, animal-driven carts alongside hover-vehicles, prods and polaron rifles, plows and robotic planters. The birds flapping in formation with an atmospheric transport hopper. And agriculture, agriculture everywhere.

Fed by the lakes and the river that joined them, and funneled through irrigation canals and upstream pumps, the water nourished something James hadn't seen since he was a young teen on planet-side leave during the missions of the USS Calgary--the ship he was born and raised on--*wheat*. Alien wheat, horizon to horizon, shining golden and green in the sun, tended to by spindly-legged robotic farmers.

Then another bizarre sight held him in his speechless grip.

Jem'Hadar! Not the warlike personages of propaganda posters and close-quarter fights in the mud. It was Jem'Hadar during peaceful times. Farming fields, tending machinery, walking down the streets of their town going about daily business. This side of them was a side James never saw before, and to say it was taking him aback was an understatement. They were laughing, grumbling about chores, competing, playing, talking; the gamut of interactions that could mistake the Jem'Hadar for Federation colonists if it wasn't for their gray, cobblestone skin.

And there were women, and children! Never knowing war, lacking the militaristic bent of the men, they seemed as natural in their surroundings as a Jem'Hadar with one of their poleaxes.

"What... the... f**k?" James breathed, taking in the twilight zone that was his life at the moment.

T'lan gently tapped James on the shoulder to awaken him from his confusion, then asked, "Does your 'battlefield experience' make any reference to women and children?"

"Huh?" James grunted, shaking his head, "No, not at all. In fact, I don't see how they are here at all."

Janx was about to say something, but just stood there, her mouth hung open. She had heard the initial reports, but hearing and *seeing* were quite different things. Briefly, she threw a questioning stare to T'lan. But the Vulcan woman didn't offer up any explanations.

James stammered, "Jem'Hadar... they don't live very long. They are bred for war and just that. Not very long, about 8 years, maybe a dozen if they're lucky. War is a youth's game, and you can learn it very quickly in a few year's fighting, so the old are not needed, so they are made to die quickly."

He emphasized his point to Commander Janx and T'lan, "I wanted to see the Jem'Hadar for myself, because their cloning facilities were trashed during the war, their ketracel-white synthesizing limited severely, and most just went back to the Gamma Quadrant. It would be difficult to sustain their numbers or make new troops after what we did to them, and those that survived the war should either be very...very old by their standards...or already dead."

James went back to watching the peaceful surroundings. T'lan quipped, "It appears that instead of answers, you have more questions."

"Tell me about it, Lieutenant." James sighed.

Pulling her tricorder from its holster, Janx made a quick scan of the area they had beamed into. "Odd," she said softly, her nose scrunching together as she tapped some sequence keys on the tricorder.

"Oh?" James asked, "What is it?"

"We are not where we're supposed to be," she handed the tricorder to T'lan. "See, we're about three klicks south of our beam-in coordinates. Why in the world would we be off by that much?"

"Three kilometers, seventeen meters, twelve centimeters, two millimeters to be precise." T'lan handed the tricorder to James, "You may wish to check these readings."

Corgan waved away the tricorder, saying as if bewildered, "No... I'll take your word for it. What an odd place to end up. Why?"

"FEDERATIONS!" barked a high pitched voice from one of the fields of tall wheat. The wheat parted as multiple trails sprouted from the edge of the field, converging on their position. They were running, fast, hollering, but not firing.

James had his customized phaser ready, a black and gold technological and craftsman's marvel that was menacing and beautiful. His grip was loose and his target was not yet trained on. He watched T'lan reach for her phaser, and assumed the TAG officer knew her way to the fire button. Nonetheless, he urged patience. "Hold it... hold it... don't attack unless fired upon."

"Commander, I would urge caution. They are Jem'Hadar." T'lan stated.

James replied, "I know. Stand down. We're surrounded. Don't agitate them."

In a cautious stance, James saw all in front of him, and heard from the areas his vision could not reach. They were surrounded, by superior numbers. But something was not right. Their moves were not professional, their formation scattered and lose. These were not Jem'Hadar movements, or more precisely, not professional, battle hardened Jem'Hadar.

Nonetheless, he waited tensely for the first to emerge from the wheat stalks...

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