"Exploring" - Part 1

Lt(jg) Cora Dobryin, Chief Intelligence Officer
Pilot Paulo DiMillo, Vanguard Intelligence Liaison
2nd Lt S'srissa, Inteligence/CTU Liaison
Lt Claire Barnes, Security/Hazard Team

*****

Paulo headed down the corridor towards the Intel offices. This wasn't a place he spent a lot of time anymore, but he did still come to pick up and drop off reports that needed to be sent to SFI, or coming from SFI. He walked in and went right to Cora's office. He hit the chime to tell her that he was there.

Turning around the corridor, S'srissa smiled when she saw someone up ahead that she didn't know outside her boss's office. Stopping next to him, she smiled, "Hi. I'm S'srissa."

Paulo turned and looked at the Orion. "Pilot Paulo DiMillo, Vanguard Intelligence Liaison," he told her. "Nice to meet you."

Wrapping her arm around his, she grinned, "Do you have any particular idea why we were all called here?"

"No, I am clueless. I was just ordered to report to Cora while the rest of the Squadron goes on to do other things," Paulo told her.

"Okay. I am thinking it might be to do with my pheromones, so I apologize in advance."

Paulo nodded. "I will try and keep that in mind," he said as he slipped his arm out of hers.

Moving forwards, she tapped the door chime again just in case her boss was napping.

Cora was finishing up with some data she had just received. "Enter." As she watched the group enter she didn't delay. "Prepare for a mission. We're going to do some exploring."

"Sounds easy enough," Paulo replied. "Anything we should be looking for?"

"Anything and everything," Cora answered, "We're the first with a chance to really gather some useful data from an Intelligence perspective."

Paulo smiled, "that should be easy enough. It isn't like we are going into any area we know is hostile."

"Well, lets head out," Cora ordered.

***

Leaving the armory after she was suited up with gear, Claire headed to the shuttle bay. One of the crewmen directed over to the shuttle that was assigned and she entered. No one was there yet, so she took a seat and waited.

The trio walked in, with Cora leading and Paulo and S'srissa following. "Hello," Paulo said as he sat down in the pilot's seat.

S'srissa moved over to where the blonde security officer was sitting, "Hi, I'm S'srissa. What's your name and do you know what role you have in Cora's Merry Men & Women?"

Claire grinned, tapping the small Type II phaser she brought along, "I'm Lt Claire Barnes from the Hazard Team & Security. I'm here to keep you alive. This is an overpowered model, which will take out people faster then you can blink."

"Lt.," Paulo said as he started to go through the checks, "we are going down to explore, not start a war."

Claire turned towards the front, tilting her head down, "Dude.. You stick to your business, let me stick to mine. I am going down prepared. If anyone starts shooting or even looks funny, I will be more heavily armed then them, which means your butt doesn't come back in a sling."

Cora entered and took her seat, "prepare for departure."

Paulo looked over the last few things, "I am ready whenever you are," he told her.

"Take us down there once we've been cleared for departure," Cora answered Paulo as she checked the rest of her team.

Paulo lifted the shuttle off the ground and headed out of the shuttle bay. "ETA 10 minutes," he told them, "and three minutes till atmo."

Ten minutes later the four of them stepped out and Paulo held out his arm for Cora. "Well, lets go play tourist," he said as the pair led on.

“Camping trip” Part Two

Principle characters:
Engineering - Lieutenant (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe
Civilian – Engineering trainee – Quentite Ambassador Turan Trelar
Civilian – Engineering Specialist Michael McDowell

**Location: Jem’Hardar settlement**

The old tractor seemed to have something like a personality. Every time it was used in another purpose, other than to plough a field, to do a different kind of farm work, it quit working. Again Thi'Inni tried to start the vehicle's engine but no sound was to be heard. The Jem'Hadar woman jumped off the drivers’ seat.

"Damn Cardassian toy!" She swore and opened the vehicle's engine lid and started searching.

Starfleet Intel would have called the vehicle a half track propelled Cardassian troop transport vehicle. With its weapons and armoury removed and farm tools attached to its front and rear hydraulic arms, it indeed looked rather like a strange kind of tractor than a military vehicle.

Thi'Inni unplugged the main power cord and cleaned its contacts; usually this worked. The Jem'Hadar female jumped back onto the driver’s seat and again tried to start the mechanical bull’s engine. Again, no sound was to be heard. Thi'Inni undressed her scientists’ overalls and climbed down the vehicle again. This was one of the moments her body begged for some Kethracell White. Since she was freed of it she always denied the wish.

This time she had to deny it too. Kehtracell White was forbidden to anybody. Her colleagues and friend didn't even dare to mention its name. They simply called it 'the stuff'.

Thi'Inni reopened the engine lid. She had to get the vehicle running, the First, in person, asked her to care for the Star Fleet engineers. In a few minutes they would leave the energy plant, and she was chosen to take them home; to her farm. Without the tractor running they would face a nice long walk, of about seven miles.

~*~

Dhani yawned and stretched, so far since beaming down, she looked at her watch; three and a half hours ago, they had taken a stroll through the settlement. Which Dhani had to admit was pretty well structured, especially seeing as the Jem’Hardar were genetically engineered to be little more than a phaser rifle with automatic targeting sensor and an itchy trigger finger.

They had been given a guided tour of the ‘villages’ facilities. And this had to be the most bizarre thing she had ever seen in her adult life; Jem’Hardar women! Walking hand in hand with Jem’Hardar children!!! Jem’Hardar children in schools learning things, other than how to get yourself killed before the age of one. There were shops to buy the latest fashionable clothes, gift stalls, grocery stores, and well after an hour Dhani just had to switch off, her brain was having a hard time adjusting to it all. At least the last hour of their tour had been a little bit easier for the engineer to digest; a guided tour of the energy plant.

The energy plant was interesting to say the least; at least from an Engineer's perspective. But Michael, and presumably the rest of the team, started to feel tired. The whole day; nothing else but crossing the town, walking for miles on end. He looked at Turan, “Are you able to grasp a bit how their technology works?”

Turan looked at Michael, “I'm not sure.” he answered, “I guess it is a kind of taking electro magnetic energy from the planets core.”

Michael nodded. “You may be right there. That's why they use those huge coils. I'm curious how they are able to manage that liquid iron flow. That's what you're suggesting that they use, isn't it?”

Turan looked at Michael. “As soon as the core's liquid iron has given its energy to the coils there is no need to think about the liquid iron anymore. Besides the fact that together with the liquid magma above, the whole system could be a nice little volcano, too. - Just in the case the seal breaks.”

Dhani folded her arms and stood back, smiling. She didn't say anything; the smile across her face was enough. She was proud of Turan.

“You're saying that this plant could go sky high if it's not designed with care and acute knowledge of the risks involved?” If that was so, then Michael really hoped this Jem'Hadar species had got it right.

“I don't know. Quentite power plants work that way, too. It's simple, it's clean, it's renewable and as far as I know there wasn't any incident making a power plant go sky high yet. It's only the worst case scenario.”

“In that case, let’s hope that worst case scenario doesn't happen. Still, there's got to be a fail safe for that. If I had designed this, then I certainly would try to make one.” Turan seemed to know much about the principle they were talking about, which made Michael wonder, “Ever thought about becoming an advisor in this area for Federation member planets?”

Dhani looked back down at the schedule in her hand that she had been given upon their arrival. The Jem'Hardar were pretty organised too, though still something didn’t sit right about all this. She felt uneasy, actually she was wondering if this was all some elaborate holo suite program made to fool the crew of the Galaxy while the puppeteers were stealing their ship... it wouldn’t be the first time...!

Turan shook his head, “No, I don't think so. That's all only school knowledge. I planned to specialize on star ship design. That's why I'm on board of the Galaxy. There are people on Quentin who mastered on that area. Probably one of them is keen on getting the job.”

“Hum,” Dhani mumbled in response, not that she was totally paying attention, “Not to interrupt boys, but according to this we are supposed to be meeting a guide to take us round the farming installations. For a species that doesn’t eat it looks pretty in depth.” She looked up at Michael with puppy dog eyes, “I'm never gonna top up that tan am I?” she said with a faux pout.

Turan nodded. “I suppose it would be impolite to let them wait.”

Dhani nodded and stared back down at the padd. A frown crossed her features, “Well according to this, she should be here already.”

“I haven't seen anyone around that was looking for us.” Michael said, and then added, “And no, I don't think you have time to get that tan Dhani, not with all the information their giving us.”

Dhani rolled her eyes and audibly sighed. “Well I’m not going to stand around and wait forever.” she huffed. Looking around at the green vegetation she wandered off into a sunny patch and took a pew amongst the flowers. Stretching out she slipped her sunglasses back down, that had been resting atop her head, and lay down on the grass.

Turan followed his mentor. Suddenly his eyes fell upon a strange looking half track standing there with an opened engine lid. A female Jem'Hadar bent over the engine swearing in an unknown language, Turan's trans-comm wasn't able to adapt to yet. “Ma'am?” Turan addressed Dhani and pointed at the vehicle.

Dhani pushed up her shades with one finger and looked in the direction Turan pointed. *Smeg* sighing Dhani stood up, “Come on, we band of merry few, lets be helpful!” she remarked. Dhani had a similar opinion on the Jem'Hardar as Michael; she didn’t like them, didn’t trust them and quite frankly didn’t really want to be here with them, even if they were 'free'. That just meant that the walking auto aiming rifles now had free will... a dangerous combination. At least when they were under the dominions thumb you knew roughly what to expect. Free thinkers were just irrational and unpredictable.

And that scared her more than she liked. What was more annoying is that she was trying not to show her hatred in front of Turan; he didn’t need to know why she hated them, what they had taken from her, hell Michael didn’t even need to know either. And she could feel Michaels discomfort of them too, it was beginning to stress her out.

But with yet another faux smile on her face she led the boys to the truck, come tank, come tractor!

Turan walked over to the Jem'Hadar. It was a strange look - the giant Quentite standing next to a Jem'Hadar who was less than half his size.

Unlike the others, Michael kept standing where he was. Two Engineers was enough. He took the opportunity to look around a bit.

Thi'Inni, startled, hit her head on the engine lid. She turned around and looked at the point where bellybuttons were expected. This bellybutton was at her eye level. She looked further up, and up, and up. This one life form was a giant! It was of no species she knew. And it was uniformed, but not in a Starfleet uniform.

“Peace with you.” the uniformed giant greeted her.

"Mind's Eye"

The Federation Delegation (USS Galaxy):
Captain Cassius Henderson, Commanding Officer
Commander Kol, Executive Officer
Legate 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 Kelvan crinkled his brow as his attention was redirected to the First Administrator exclusively. A child spun a toy on the sidewalk as Kylar sidestepped him. He had recognized the First's use of 'The' rather than 'our', and this caught his attention.

"How long ago if I may ask? You've been here for seven years you say?"

"The Vorta was killed in an accident at the cloning center. We were still developing an extensive cloning center from the remains of our ship when a coolant leak had developed in a secondary conduit. The ensuing explosion killed him and a dozen others. That was almost six of your years in the past."

"Why do you call him 'The'? Was he not your sworn leader?"

Goran'Agar halted quickly, almost causing the Kelvan to run into him. The others stopped alongside, as if to listen. The Hydrans took an exceptional curiosity to the question. The Rihannsu adopted an air of distance, as per their usual demeanour, content to simply take in the information.

"The Vorta was not *my* leader, Legate. I was not a part of his legion."

"I don't understand. All Jem`Hadar are sworn to the Founders and their Vorta commanders."

Goran'Agar spun around and burned his coal-black eyes into Curran, into his very soul he felt. Yara'Iclan clamped his gnarled hand upon the handheld weapon holstered to his waist and immediately moved to stand with his First to defend him.

"I was retrieved from Bopak III by a Jem'Hadar battlecruiser on its way to punish the Karemma for opening discussions with the Federation. A battle with a Federation ship from Deep Space 9 ensued. We sustained enough damage to effectively destroy communications with the Dominion. I do not understand what occurred during the months that followed, only that we had arrived in Romulan space by some method." He cast his withering glare back at the delegation that had no apparent care of the conversation.

The Riov bristled at the use of the racial epithet. Her eyes narrowed and met those of the First Administrator, but only for a moment. Adopting a more diplomatic countenance, t'Vriesu reminded him, "Rihannsu space, First."

"Yes, I know you are the Rihannsu, but that title is one given to the honored on your homeworld. The *Romulans* we encountered during our travels within your space were not that."

Hanae inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the statement. The fringes of the Star Empire were just as lawless as the fringes of any interstellar government. That was becoming increasingly true for her people, with their government as... contentious as it was. Instead of giving a verbal response, she kept an eye on her Federation and Hydran counterparts. Henderson seemed to be hanging back from the discussion, allowing the diplomat to do most of the talking. N'fth'nor was unreadable as ever, as his alien features were beyond her knowledge of expression.

"It does not matter. We begin anew. After four years of battles not worthy of a newborn Jem`Hadar on a training cruise, we were forced to land here to effect repairs. Our ship was no longer space-worthy, so it was decided we would remain here to rebuild our forces. The Vorta decided that. I did not agree, but as you can see, it has been for the better. When we arrived here, we numbered no more than 100. Now, we are five thousand."

The regal Qasar, who had not spoken at all to this point, swiveled her three eyestalks in the direction of the First. "Five thousand?" her voice came strangely over-layered through the Starfleet officers' Universal Translator. "How many generations to reach such a population, First Agar?"

Before Goran`Agar could respond, the familiar blue-yellow hum of a transporter reached their ears. Another Jem`Hadar, accompanied by two heavily armed soldiers, materialized two meters from their position.

"First Administrator, I have the inoculations." The new arrival lifted a dark nondescript case, and opened it for inspection. A hypospray with three capsules lay inside.

"Life on this planet has come with its price." Goran`Agar reached inside the unit and removed the hypo, fitting it with one of the capsules.

"Please extend your arm." He held the hypo out for the first volunteer.

Both N'fth'nor and Jivi'ka'jur extended their arms, the blue-purple skin slightly sheened from the moisture their bodies excreted. One of the First's bodyguards took each of their arms in his hand, then injected them with they hypospray.

Strange that the Hydrans would be so quick to trust, Cassius thought as he watched the innoculations. With so many potential complications, there were procedures that needed to be followed. Questions of physiological differences and dosage had to be taken into account. Not to mention the potential for treachery. Not to mention it at all. "First, exactly what purpose do these injections serve?"

"When we first arrived here, many of my comrades fell to the most deadly of predators here. It is a flying insect measuring four feet in length, with a close likeness to one of your spiders, I believe, if I remember my conversations with one of your Starfleet officers on Bopak III. One of them kept one as a pet, if I recall. The predator here injects its victims with a slow-acting poison that degenerates their brain tissues into nothing more than a vegetative state, if the host lasts that long. The parasitic infection literally dissolves all your internal organs at an excruciating pace before then. The mortality rate is 99.9%. The one that survived was nothing more than a lump of flesh. I gave him a quick death when we knew nothing more could be done to cure him. It was a blow to our colony, as he had the genetic strand we needed to cultivate to wean my people off the ketracel-white."

Cassius winced as image of an immense horsefly formed in his mind's eye. "Would it be possible for you to send information on this predator, as well as a sample of the inoculation to my Science and Medical Departments. Until we've had it tested for compatibility with our diverse physiologies, I cannot allow my crew to take any medication."

"Of course, Captain," Goran'Agar agreed, "But you will accept that risk."

"Discovery is always a risk, Administrator," Cassius replied. Hopefully Burton's people wouldn't take very long analyzing the medication. While it paid to be careful, having to send home members of his crew in torpedo casings wasn't a desirable outcome either.

Nor spoke up, his central eyestalk focused on the first, while the two periphery ones kept watch on both the Starfleeters and the Romulans. "How is it you are able to be white-dependant, now, First?" his rasping tone asked.

"That is perhaps our greatest achievement here, Gharashk'mev." They emerged from the pathway through the eastern sector of the settlement into a much larger courtyard. Situated at three other equal distance from their portal ran more pathways to the other sectors of the colony.

In the center rose a massive stone structure of black obsidian, which itself stood upon a grassy knoll bare of anything but the green fronds that grew out of the soil beneath.

"A monument to all those that died in the pursuit of freedom." Goran`Agar pivoted back to face the guests after bowing to the stone altar. Several other Jem`Hadar of mixed gender and age also were present paying homage, but also wary of the visitors. Some kept themselves at a safe distance. The older males had approached closer, but remained a step out of reach. Kylar couldn't discern the emotions at play under the stony surfaces of their features. If ever the time was needed for a telepath, now was it.

"One of the first projects the Vorta initiated upon our forced isolation on this planet was to cultivate a female species of Jem'Hadar. After extended research into the Rihannsu and Federation fighting forces, it was determined that your female gender was of equal or superior in fighting prowess. The Vorta decided to pursue this research into if we could accomplish the same."

Goran'Agar had clasped his hands together during this sharing of history, but now separated them as he gestured towards a larger building to his left - on the southern side of the courtyard. "Please, let us retire to what we've converted to our operational center. It was formerly the residence of the Vorta, but now all central decisions are made there."

Cassius fell in beside the Jem'Hadar first, walking with him to the large building. As they made their way over, Jem'Hadar moved out of the way, interrupting a pair of a younger men engaged in a lively discussion, as well as a group of children playing. The people here obviously had great respect for their leader. "What kind of results did you get from the initial experiments?"

"When the first of our females stepped from their cloning chambers, she was all that was to be expected from our research. She was a fighting master, intelligent beyond our expectations, and efficient."

"Quite different from the females we've seen here now, if I might make the observation." Curran had matched the First's strides on the steps leading up to the archway. More Jem'Hadar passed them on their way down. As they approached the archway entrance, he noticed the amount of the inhabitants increasing; a crowd was gathering. It made the Kelvan all that much more uncomfortable.

"She is dead as well. One of the victims of the accident that claimed the Vorta."

"Another sacrifice for your freedom," Henderson observed, reflecting on what Goran'Agar had said about the obsidian monument. "How did you come to a new power structure after the death of the Vorta. It must have been a difficult adjustment."

"When the Vorta died, I took leadership of the settlement. There was some opposition, but I was able to retain my claim."

"You killed anyone who stood against you, you mean," Curran asked.

Goran`Agar rolled his shoulders up proudly. "There was no one left to fight. Were we to destroy each other to satisfy a craving? No. That is a waste of resources."

"In most cases, violent conflict usually is," Cassius pointed out. As a career soldier, he had seen firsthand the waste that war brought. Only rarely had he felt that the gain or cause had been worth the burned out wreckage and lost lives.

"First," The smaller Hydran Warlord's trio of eyestalks snaked about inquisitively.

"Yes, Gharashk'mev, I am getting to your question. Patience is a virtue, and one I have had to learn the hard way."

The larger female muttered a guttural sound at the mev, at which he begrudgingly bowed his head and stepped back, his anger suppressed. The translators failed to understand it. Already forgotten, the Administrator turned back to their destination as he returned nods of deference to the others of his species.

"A Brewing Storm"

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

****

Central Courtyard, Free Jem'Hadar Settlement

Goran`Agar stepped into the old Vorta residence through the grander archways. Inside was a great bustle of hundreds of Jem`Hadar. They continued on through the great hall for a destination not quite halfway across the stone floor with its architecturally perfect pillars reaching up several meters to balance a dome that was painted with broad strokes of color.

"One of the side-effects of creating the female gender that the Vorta had tried to conceal from us is that they were ketracel-white free. We have not been able to determine what it is about their genetic makeup that allows this. We're not very scientifically-inclined here as yet. Maybe in the next few generations."

"Perhaps the Federation Science Administration could offer the advice of their geneticists," Cass suggested, admiring the precision in the architecture. The creative artistry that he'd noticed outside was even more apparent here, especially in the dome. He wondered if it had been the Vorta or the Jem'Hadar who had created the masterpiece. "With our experience with gene therapy and your knowledge of the Jem'Hadar physiology, we could help you finish the work you've already begun."

"That is a most generous offer, Captain, and maybe in the future we will come to discuss it. Such things take time, and trust doesn't come easily to once determined enemies. There are much more important topics to negotiate before trading in guarded secrets."

Hanae t'Vriesu watched the exchange between them with some interest. Rihannsu scientists were known for the jealousy with which they guarded their secrets. The boon of her people was not hers to offer. She almost envied Cassius Henderson the ease with which he could slip in and out of the conversation, speaking with the authority of his government. Of course, there must be some oversight, but it had to be less than the endless system of favors and patronage that she had to wade through to make a major decision.

As the group moved past the central gardens growing as an exhibit in the center of the commons, a low, rumbling sound reverberated through the stone, followed by a loud thump somewhere beyond the building. Everyone in the hall stopped, including the delegations. Most ran to the various archways to the outside in abject curiousity to locate the source of the noise, including Goran'Agar and his aides.

"First Administrator?" Henderson said, quizzically. The noise that was only beginning to fade reminded him of distant explosions he'd heard during the Dominion War... and occassionally been responsible for. This was the first sign of any unrest among the Jem'Hadar. Was there trouble in the paradise the former minions had built?

Curran also ran to the side of the Jem'Hadar First, squinting his eyes against the grey haze of sky for a sign of the source of the sound. Someone yelled out, hands pointed, voices mingled into a murmur without cohesion. He followed the gesturing in time to catch a glimpse of two dark shapes tumbling into the dense foliage of treetops several kilometers distant.

Before the Kelvan could turn to the First for any sort of query, the Administrator was pulled from behind by a new face of a Jem`Hadar he hadn't seen previously. Hasty muttering in the ear of their host, and Goran`Agar's already dark eyes fell into an even more distressed visage. Nodding and whispering a command to the aide, he then turned back to the delegations would had come to surround him in a semi-circle. Rana'Teran had disappeared, even as more Jem'Hadar shock troops entered the hall to secure a perimeter around the delegations.

"I have urgent matters to attend to. The guards will escort you to a secure location where you'll be safe." As he entered into a series of discussions with Rika'Danur and others who had materialized around him, Curran wasn't the only one to rope for his attention.

"First, if there's anything that my crew or I can do to help, feel welcome to ask. We'll probably be willing," Henderson pointed out as people started to be directed to leave the room by Jem'Hadar troops.

"No. Your assistance isn't required. We have the situation under our own control. Don't concern yourself. We've survived this environment for seven years now, a little longer won't make a difference."

"Very true, but could you at least keep us informed as to what's taking place," Cassius pressed him for more information. Every bit of training in my screamed that sitting this one out was the *absolutely* wrong thing to do. If there truly was a major danger, he wanted to be anywhere but on the sidelines, unable to assure the safety of the people under his command.

"Your officers and crew are not in any danger. My aides tell me it is simply a natural occurrence. We have a cloning station in the area of impact, which is the source of my concern. The shock troops are to retain order amongst the population. These things happen often, and tend to get the people nervous being so close to Hydran and Rihannsu territory. Your landing parties are still free to move about the settlement. Now, I must leave." Before anyone could interject, the familiar blue-yellow light returned and took the First, Second, and personal bodyguard away.

"erei'Riov, return to the Iaafvi and monitor our people on the ground. Steer them away from the First Administrator's concern," Hanae t'Vriesu quickly ordered her second in command. Brushing a stray lock of dark brown hair from her eyes, she suggested, "Captain Henderson, perhaps you'd like to come with me,

"We could do some catching up," she smiled, purposefully batting her eyes at him.

"Indeed," Cassius replied, keenly aware of the intent behind her words. Hanae was as cunning as he sister, the Empress. Whatever goal she had, she would use everything at her disposal to achieve it. On the other hand, it was a good excuse to dodge N'fth'nor, and a good opportunity to discern the aims of the Rihannsu. Casting a glance at the Hydran Gharashk, he lowered his voice so that only she would hear, "Away from prying eyes..."

"The Reluctant Counselling Session"

2nd Lt Branwen London, Marine Counsellor,
Lt Jg Claire Barnes, Hazard Team / Security Officer

Walking down the corridor flanked by two of her fellow Security colleagues, Claire fumed about how she was been dragged along to this. She had come up with the most inventive excuses to get out of having to see a counsellor, but she couldn't get out of this. She had been one of the few not to have been taken over or affected in anyway, and instead had been with a few who put up a good fight against the nasty aliens through the prodigious use of heavy stun. As one of her Vulcan colleagues had said, it could have been because she studied Zen & meditated. He was of the opinion that a disciplined mind could stop any influences.

Arriving at the door, Claire sighed and pressed the buzzer.

"Come in." Branwen said. She had read most of Lieutenant Barnes file, also become she had had time to read the Lieutenant file. She had been avoiding seeing a counsellor for months. And was actually one of the last to be literally dragged in.

"Lieutenant, I know you don't want to be here so I hope we can make this as least unpleasant for you as possible." She said indicating a chair.

Claire grumbled, "Okay, where do you want to start? The very beginning like whether I had childhood bed-wetting problems or what??"

"If you want to, I am here to listen to what you have to say." Branwen said. "Coffee or tea?"

Claire laughed loudly, "I'm fine.. For a marine, you have a good sense of humor. How long have you been doing this for?"

"Thank you." Branwen said knowing full well that she was being diverted. "I have been on the ship for about a year now. But let's talk about you, I have read your file. Yet first I would like to ask you if there is anything you would like start with?"

Claire shrugged, "Hmm... There is always my excessive use of guns and ammo.. Or I guess we could talk about how my lesbian lover has come aboard. I'm a bit worried that she won't be as safe as she was on Earth teaching at the Academy."

"I guess wherever you want to start is fine with me. You pick what is most important to you." Getting better at this Branwen didn't show at all that talking about lesbian love made her uncomfortable. She very vividly remembered having those kind of sorts herself a few months ago, and of course it went against everything her religion tought her.

Claire thought for a moment, nervously staring down at her combadge as she wished it would chirp. Her foot was tapping and she cracked her knuckles.

She looked up eventually, "Read any good books recently? Or got any hobbies or sports? I do a bit of fencing, gymnastics,horse-riding and meditation. Also a Sherlock Holmes & mystery novel fan."

Branwen checked herself in time. They shared some hobbies, but she would not go into that. "We're not talking about me today, Claire."

After a little bit more, Claire checked the smaller timer she had brought, jumping up, "Oh, times up. That was quite good. I'll see you later."

"You have a very strange watch. Last chance to pick something yourself, otherwise I will." Bran grinned.

Claire frowned, sitting down again, "How about we deal with my complete dislike of anything to do with medicine or counselling? I got enough of that sort of crap in the Academy and AA."

"Doesn't everybody. And almost nobody has to be dragged in here under guard. Why do you think you have to be?"

Claire giggled, "Well, I actually was led here by two security guards.. James left orders for them to stop me bolting mid-session too. I have to be here because I was ordered to. That's the thing about it. How about you pick something, since it should be sure as hell obvious that I'm trying to distract it. There is a saying from where I come from which is used as an excuse for everything bad - She'll be right, mate. And I stick by it."

"All right." Branwen looked over the filed for a few seconds. She could not be a coward because something was uncomfortable for her. "Let's talk about your lover first, what exactly are you afraid of?"

"Well, Holly is a wonderful person. It is really hard to descibe it, but I would be lost without her.. During the last mission for the Victorious, we got held for two months in an alien prison, and she was devastated.. She is very fragile and I had to protect her. Even though it is a long time since that and she has grown from it, I still am worried about her.. Look at the last mission as an example. Also worried about bringing a 7 year old child along. I know it was their decision, but I feel guilty. If I wasn't so.. hyperactive and more suited to desk duty, they would be safe."

"Has she ever asked it of you?" Branwen asked. "Taking a desk job?"

Claire shook her head, "Never.. But I kinda thought of Academy instructor as one.. She really seemed to love it."

"And you, would it suit you?" Branwen smiled. "You could be teasing cadets the whole day long."

Claire laughed, "It drove me bonkers and I hated it so much. "

Bran smiled. "Yet if it bothers you it sounds like something you should discuss with your girlfriend. Friends usually sense it when something is bothering a good friend."

Claire sighed, "Yeah, I should. She was the one who told me to come out into space, and I know she will pick it up if I don't tell her."

"Be honest." Branwen advised. "And then discuss it openly, respecting the others point of view. This is something you will have to work out together."

Claire nodded, "Thanks. You've been a great help. I should go talk to her now."

"Okay. Let me know how it goes." Branwen said.

"The Silent Service" - Part 4: "Grand Theft Dilithium Freighter"

Master Chief Petty Officer Madden Jayce, Team CO -- "Cadence Hancock"
Lieutenant JG Chase Remur, Team XO & Computer Specialist -- "Brechyn Troyer"
Lt. Commander Brian Elessidil, Team Psionic and Diplomatic Specialist -- "Radu Prett"
Lieutenant Michael Jamson, Team Combat Specialist -- "Roger Mueller"
Lieutenant JG Miramon Terrik, Team Flight Specialist -- "Danar"
Lieutenant JG Saul Bental, Team Infiltration Specialist -- "Raheem al-Hariri"
2nd Lieutenant Jebediah Baile, Team Recon Specialist -- "Savage"

with... Alina Drayson, Underground Resistance Leader

****

147 Nova Street,
Spacer's Quarter,
Lammergeir,
Gryphon Coalition

Baile crouched in the alleyway behind the dilapidated building where they were supposed to meet the woman who was delivering the Backbroken's Reward to them. None of the spacers who drifted along the streets had noticed anything out of the ordinary as he made his way through the Spacer's Quarter. And none of them had seen him once he'd closed to within four blocks of the apartment complex.

The spacers would have more easily detected a microscopic bug. Taking hold of the civilian commlink in his jacket pocket, he squeezed the trigger once. A single burst of static from his pocket to the commlink in Chase Remur's pocket.

They materialized a few feet behind him, in the middle of the alleyway, still wearing spacer disguises. None of them asked if Baile had been seen. They didn't need to. As soon as they'd finished rematerializing, Chase pointed to a door that was partially blocked by an accumulation of garbage. "Side door. We enter that way and take the lift up to floor 14."

She knelt by the door and began to enter the code she'd been given.

The place was even dirtier than the bar had been. It seemed that ever since the Drayson Institute had been torn down, and the subsequent protection treaty with the Hydrans, that the once well maintained capitol city had succumbed to dust and filth. Like most of the buildings in the domed city, the rental apartments rose high into the artificial sky.

"Nice place," Elessidil muttered quietly to the others. The disguised Betazoid had already begun telepathically scanning the immediate area, his mind going where their eyes and ears could not in search of anyone who might intend to surprise them.

Saul Bental drew something that looked like a Latinum bar from his pocket. The metal was called Iso-Karnesim, and one of the traits that made it a form of hard currency is the fact that it took tons of energy to replicate it... or scan through it.

He depressed a corner of the IsoKarnesim bar, and it popped open, revealing several miniature devices including a small scanner. Immediately, all life forms in a hundred meters radius became visible on the scanner's display.

"Doesn't look like we're expecting an ambush," he said simply, offering Jayce/Hancock a peek at the scanner's display before returning it back to his jacket's inner pocket.

"That would be my assessment as well...at least for now," Brian corroborated.

Baile crouched down. The boots scraped against the ground as he slowly twisted around. "The area is clear... " was his only comment. He didn't need a scanner to know it. Fifteen years of combat told him so.

"For now..."

"I've got the door," Chase said simply, entering the last digit and waiting for the requisite click. Reaching up from the combination lock, she moved the handle into the unlocked position and opened the door. "Follow me," she said as she stepped into the dimly lit slum. "We should have a clear path to the lift."

Saul followed her, his hand slipping into his coat.

Madden brought up the rear, her heavy boots echoing over the concrete floor.

The lift ride was short, if uncomfortable. The close proximity of seven people crammed into a lift that was sized to comfortably fit four made Chase more than a little nervous, and the creaks and groans of the ancient lift were absolutely terrifying. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they approached the fourteenth floor. "Raheem, give me a life signs reading for floor R."

Once more, the 'magical' metal bar was opened, and Saul scanned their surroundings.

"Eleven. All in...", He inspected the schematics of the building, "Room R11."

"Well, that's them," Chase said as the elevator ground to a halt and the door opened. Resting her hand on the quickdraw disruptor, she stepped out into the hall. No sign of life. "Either that or we're fucked anyway."

"Troyer, one day you'll have to explain to me why being fucked is a negative thing.", Saul muttered back, then took a micro-device from the 'magic bar' and placed it in one of his pocket. It was a small bug, with visual sensors. "Besides, we're not going in without taking a peek first."

"I like to be a little more discriminating when it comes to who I'm *fucked* by, Raheem," she shot back over her shoulder as she took point, moving them quickly from the elevator to the the door of Room R11. Once they'd all grown close to the door, she gestured to Madden's head and then at the door. No sense going in without knowing what they were going into.

Saul stepped besides Madden, attaching his 'bug' to the small crack between the door and the floor. A fuzzy holoprojection of the other side emerged. They could see mostly feet and furniture. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's them," Madden said, with a small nod, glancing at Chase. "Expect them all to be armed, so Savage, Mueller, prepare for the charge grenades. Raheem, put that damn thing away; they're rightfully paranoid,"

Saul wrinkled his nose, but put the metal bar back in his inner pocket as Madden continued.

"...They're going to have sensor sweepers and bug alerts. Prett," she looked at Brian, "keep a close listen. Shout at me if anyone's coming." She pressed her fingers to her temple. "Alright. Weapons out. Let's get this done, we're falling behind, we don't have much time. But don't get sloppy. Let's do this right."

Saul shrugged, his fingers resting loosely on the concealed Ion Pulse Pistol's. Madden's intonation seemed too eager in his ears. Almost as if she was expecting this to turn into a combat situation. Saul doubted it - if a trap was prepared for them, the ideal place to place it would be within Hydran territory, not here.

Chase nodded when Madden signaled the all clear, and knocked once on the door.

****

Room R11,
147 Nova Street,
Spacer's Quarter

'Cadence Hancock' looked out the window over the slowly decaying districts of Lammergeir. It made her sick. It made her sick whenever she looked at the city; at the ruin it had come to under the new Troyer leadership. The buildings had been clean and the law enforced when the Drayson Institute had lead by compromise, on this neutral ground between them, the capitol of a unified Gryphon.

She had been through a dozen identities since then, using each of them to develop contacts and form a hidden underground. Alina Drayson had lead the resistance on her own before Cassius Henderson had contacted her during a covert trip to the Federation for supplies. Now she continued to drift from cell to cell, performing missions of liberation and keeping a watchful eye on Hydran activities in the Gryphon Asteroid Belt.

As Cadence Hancock, she had joined and taken control of a 'merchant' freighter used to carry dilithium crystals to Hydran space. Now those months of planning and lying were paying off. She glanced over at the unconscious Brechyn Troyer and her crew of intergalactic scum. The drugs she'd put in their beers would keep them under long enough to return to Federation space.

Alina was a woman of plain yet pleasant, perfectly average features. She'd blended into the crowd easily at the dinner parties her uncle had hosted during his time as Director of the Drayson Institute, and she'd been a natural in the Drayson Space Navy. Once she enjoyed a pleasantly quiet life as an observer in her Uncle's courts. Now she was all that stood between the Gryphonite people and the grim reality of the Hydrans. Fate had been a cruel mistress, but she had risen to the challenge.

"Welcome to my palace," she said sardonically as the Starfleet officers filed in.

Chase Remur had only briefly met Alina Drayson in March of 2381, at a dinner function before the breakdown of the governing coalition lead by her uncle. Even so, she had no problem in observing the marked changes in the other woman. Drayson was thinner, and there were bags beneath her eyes, likely permanent. Disguised as Cadence Hancock, she was a far cry from the smartly dressed military officer she'd seen then.

"Are was ready for the transfer?" Chief Jayce asked, glancing disdainfully at the unconscious spacers who were scattered around the room.

"Everything's taken care of," Drayson replied, pitching a PADD to Remur. "Those are the command authorizations. If there's anything that I missed, I'm sure you'll be able to find a way around it."

"Oh yeah," Chase mumbled her reply, glancing over the codes. "That's what I do."

"Then we're set," Jayce concluded, handing a short metallic cylinder to Drayson. "Take the prisoners and our runabout back to Deep Space Five. One of our people will meet you there."

Alina pocketed the personal transporter. "Consider it done."

Chase nodded to here, and checked her wristwatch. They didn't have very much time before the scheduled departure time on the freighter. Between familiarizing themselves with the ship and learning their new command codes,

"Chief, we'd better be going."

{{OOC : Includes snippets from 'Intermediary Consequences'. If you don't remember that post, it's OK - it was my fourth post on the sim. Soundtrack song is available Upon request via E-Mail, Or you can just get it through Kazaa}}

"The Anger" - Part 1

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Chief Tactical Officer

Soundtrack: "The Anger", Rockfour

* * *

My ears are sealed. Your smile – distant memory.

Chasing my thoughts, throwing to the deepest pit.

Signing on contracts, agreements long overdue.

Watching it all, intervening and not staying through.

The anger is sealed by now but it shakes me from inside

Between the exposed corners - there is no place to hide.

When you'll come there'll be nothing – it's like a different place.

I run away and call for you, can't keep up the pace.

* * *

The bowels of the Backbroken's Rewards reminded Saul of one of the freighters he hitchhiked on during his journey from Utrecht III to Earth. He was nearly out of credits by the time he took that particular freighter, so the Captain agreed to take him on only if he assists the crew two shifts out of three. Of course, Saul had to forge a Technician's certificate to convince them, but luckily he had some past experience with forgery using minimal resources, and the freighter's owner didn't try to authenticate the certificate.

As a reward, he found himself sixteen hours a day scrubbing the areas of the ship that any other passenger would avoid if he wanted to sleep at night. Every transport around these parts had such sections, that would make the unsuspecting visitor wonder how comes this rustbucket is out of the junkyard.

Most passengers preferred not to know in what a horrible shape their ship was. Worrying doesn't increase your chances of survival during a wrap six cruise. It does, however, decrease the time you sleep.

Saul found a cozy spot next to a plasma conduit, after crawling through two foul-smelling maintenance shafts. The conduit produced strange noises, and Saul hoped that it won't leak while he was there. After being a conduit for so long, surely it could be polite enough to hold on for two more hours.

Saul placed two devices on the floor, and activated them. The first was a life-signs detector, which was also used as static noise producer. It should help him keep his privacy until he was done here. The other was a PADD.

It didn't bear the Starfleet insignia or any markings relating it to the UFP, of course. But bringing it over was still a breach of protocol. That is exactly why Saul planned to disintegrate the hand-held device once he was done. But not beforehand.

The PADD contained the results of several queries Saul made in the Intelligence databases. He couldn't do it himself, since he was no longer on the Intel department, so he needed to ask for a favor.

Coming to the department head was of course out of the question, given that Cora was probably the main reason that Captain Henderson transferred him to Tactical. Next came Lysandra Stuart, Henderson's eyes and ears in the department, but Saul didn't want Henderson's eyes and ears to know about it either. Seren, as a Lily-squad member (Saul wondered if the secondary Intel unit still existed now that he was gone) was the third option, but it was so expected that he didn't approach the Vulcan informatician. Instead, he asked Chief C'hitah to help him.

She wasn't tied with him in the eyes of Henderson or Dobryin, but she still remembered how he used to joke with her about 'pompous officers' who don't know how to appreciate an experienced enlisted woman. Despite trusting C'hitah, he made his queries as general as possible, so she wouldn't figure what he was looking for.

Now, sitting in the dust layer that covered the small space's floor, he narrowed down the Intelligence data to get the actual results he was looking for.

It seemed like only yesterday he was sitting in his temporary room after the battle of Havras. He just finished doing some Intelligence analysis when he decided to check who the probable suppliers of the Triad were.

The fifth name on the list was 'Siave Shuni export-import incorporated'.

Siave Shuni was a dummy corporation that some of his family members used for some of their… commercial activities. As the first Intelligence analyst who got his hands on the material, Saul had the ability to highlight certain spots of information, or divert the next analysts' attention from any spots he wanted them to overlook. And so he did.

Now, it seemed that more and more trails led from Siave Shuni to the Vaden system. The Backbroken's Reward wasn't the only non-Hydran freighter traveling into the system, and it seemed that many of the other freighters belonged in the past to Siave Shuni inc.

Saul found it hard to believe that anyone from his family was stupid enough to deal with the Hydrans directly, but as one page after another of data flickered before his eyes, he had to admit that someone did.

Was it someone from the old guard, trying to return his stand within the family to what it used to be? Was it Janny, her calculating mind ever searching for new ways to increase her wealth? Perhaps Devoss? His cousin Devoss could've been born a Hydran and no one would notice except for the Hydrans, who would become homeless after Devoss drained them from every bit of wealth they had. Or perhaps it was Arieh, or Jackob, or…

Well, that's what he was going to find out. If someone from his family dealt with the Hydrans, it made him – or her – a traitor to the Federation. And that would put Saul's private agenda in peril.

Saul memorized all the important facts provided by the PADD, and two hours later he shut it down and slipped it back to his pocket, along with the lifesigns detector. He stood up, wiped his jacket clean of the dust that clung to it, and began to make his way up the maintenance shaft again.

"X Marks The Spot"

*****Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth*****

The heavy-set man paced the kitchen set in the lounge of the second floor of Starfleet Academy. The afternoon sun shone in from an open window. His indignant voice could be heard by his three fellow professors eating lunch at the table.

"How dare she! When did this Roswell woman file the report?" He looked at the younger man eating a sandwhich.

After he swallowed, he calmly stated, "Only a few months ago. They say it was a repressed memory, but calm down, now. I'm sure this isn't the first time a cadet made false accusations. You're students always have great things to say about you. I'm sure she's just angry because she had to take correspondance courses for her reprimand. It seems odd she would file this before she fakes her own death for whatever reason she claims. She's just a troublemaker."

Everyone stared at him. The woman asked, "And how do you know so much about all this, Tarm?"

He laughed, "My father's part of JAG, remember?"

The other man rolled his eyes, "Explains why you got this job."

Before they realized, Marks had stormed out of the room and they looked at each other and shrugged and continued to eat, uneffected by it all.

*****The Next Week*****

"So you completely deny the claim Lt, junior grade, Naranda Roswell is making that you raped her?" The attorney sat across from Mark's desk and stared at him.

Marks looked at him, flushed, "Yes! My career is important to me. I wouldn't ruin it just to hump some scrawny cadet!"

The attorney gave him a look, "I understand you're indignant Professor, but you must use a different vocabulary. There are many arguments against repressed memories. Even having a vulcan look at the memory could simply mean she's constructed it well. It's still simply your word against hers. Her reputation isn't so great either. The planet she's claimed citizenship to joined the Federation only months ago. She's basically riding on the tails of her parent's success in Starfleet."

Marks nodded, "I'm sorry."

The attorney smiled and nodded, "Alright." He started the recording, "Professor Marks, where were you the afternoon of..."

"Waitin' 'til Vaden"

Lt Commander Brian Elessidil
Team Psionic and Diplomatic Specialist -- "Radu Prett"

Lieutenant JG Saul Bental
Team Infiltration Specialist -- "Raheem"

Something creaked as Saul rolled in his bunk bed. The dim artificial light cast long shadows on his face as he found a semi-comfortable position on his back. A paper book lay open on the bed next to Saul's left elbow, its pages yellow and the print faded. He already finished it, as well as the other three books owned by 'Raheem al-Hariri'. None of them were interesting, but one had to settle for what one got.

"Counselor Brian?" Saul called out, addressing the man in the bed below him.

The sound of the other man's voice was a welcome distraction for Brian, and he grinned in amusement at the unusual salutation. For nearly an hour he'd lain here, his racing mind thwarting any attempt at sleep. He was just about to give up and go offer to take a turn in the pilot's seat, anything to get his mind off the endless loop of thinking and wondering that played through his head.

"Lieutenant Saul," he returned in like form.

"Remember that I promised to do stuff to express what I felt about what I saw on Deep Space 5?"

"Yes," the counselor succinctly answered, his curiosity piqued.

"Does this mission count?"

Elessidil grinned again, this time as much at himself as at Saul. Expressing what was on one's mind was standard advice in his field, yet here he was himself, staring at the underside of Bental's bunk for the past hour, keeping his own thoughts thoroughly locked inside.

"I'd say even more than routine life on the Galaxy. As calm and collected as we all try to be, this is anything but a stress-free mission."

"I almost miss the stress - I'm almost bored out of my mind here."

"Heh...yeah, me too. So what's on your mind?"

"Nothing much, really... it's just funny, how life works sometimes. You know, if you weren't here, I could tell Miramon 'Thank goodness that my counselor doesn't see me now.'... instead, we share a room. Did you ever have a roommate who was also a... client?"

Brian chuckled. "Not officially, but I had a roommate at the Academy who seemed to have one crisis after another in his life and was always coming to me to help him figure out how to resolve them -- you'd think I would have known then that I should've been pursuing counseling as a career path. Man, that seems like such a long time ago," he noted out loud after a reflective pause.

Saul's chuckle echoed after Brian's. "Well, I'm a more considerate roommate - I won't bother you while you're off duty."

The counselor merely smiled to himself.

"So why did you agree to do this?" Saul suddenly asked. "Do you have any background in this kind of... work?"

Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't a question Brian hadn't already asked himself.

"Yeah, I've done undercover work before, most recently during my previous assignment on the Pendragon, though this is the most extended mission of this type I've been involved with. As for why I agreed to participate . . . ." He paused for moment to consider the answer he hadn't quite yet come up with. "I guess there isn't one specific reason. I guess I felt that my being asked to participate meant I had something to offer. It's also good to break out of the routine of regular duties now and again." He sighed quietly. "I guess a lot of it, if not most of it, had to do with wanting to stretch myself, wanting to be more than just 'the counselor' who sits and listens to everyone's problems all day and being known more for being a nice guy than a competent Starfleet officer. Maybe that's too selfish a reason, I don't know."

Thinking of the Pendragon again and his desire to be more than a "nice guy" stirred up thoughts that Brian hadn't visited in awhile. Had it been a mistake giving up a second officer position of his own to come back to the Galaxy? Was the respect he sought from his fellow officers something he could really earn by just helping them through their various crises? Counselors were often considered part of the "softer side" of Starfleet. Many COs wouldn't even permit them to participate in away missions unless there was a specific need for their expertise, and even then they often restricted that participation to their chief counselor. But if there was one thing Brian had learned about himself it was that he needed variety, he needed to do things now and then that were out of the normal activities of his field, no matter how much he loved it.

"To be honest," he continued in a somewhat more reflective tone, "sometimes I wonder if I'm growing stale sitting behind a desk or on a counseling couch all day." Did he mean growing stale or growing old? He wasn't sure there was a difference. Brian immediately resolved to speak to Karyn and Cass about getting back into the bridge watch rotation now and again; he'd be damned if the time and effort he'd invested in getting his bridge certification and working on developing command skills were going to count for nothing.

"There's nothing wrong with being selfish, and there's nothing selfish in risking your life for the fleet. I suppose it does wear you down, to be the wailing wall for dozens of officers," Saul mused. "What other options do you have? I'm not very familiar with your field, but the most natural possible shift might be to the liaison corps as a diplomat or something... you know, perhaps one day I would give diplomacy a try if they let me."

"Heh . . . no, that's okay. I've done enough shifting of fields. Besides, I do love my work as a counselor, I just need to find ways to put a little variety in the routine now and again. Opportunities like this mission are perfect for that. I'll just have to see if any more come up down the road," he answered.

"On the Galaxy? I won't be surprised."

"Anyway, I didn't mean to go off on such a long answer to your question, Lieu-- ...actually is 'Saul' okay?" Brian asked, it suddenly occurring to him that he'd never called Bental anything except Lieutenant and that perhaps this was as good an opportunity as any to change that.

Brian couldn't see the broad smile on Saul's face. But he could hear it. "It was OK from the second I stepped into that counselling office all that time ago. I don't like formality. I suppose you need to grow with it to get used to it."

"So what were your reasons for saying yes to this mission?"

There was a momentary silence. "Simple. This is what I'm good at. Flying in a rusty shuttle, mingling into an alien planet while pretending to be someone else... you may laugh, but for me it feels much more natural than being in charge of Tactical."

Another pause, and then... a sigh? "Perhaps this mission IS stress relief for me. I was so happy to be given a department's head position, that I nearly forgot this little detail about needing to be qualified for the job. Not that Tactical is in bad hands, of course, but it takes twice as much effort to do something when you haven't mastered it."

"It's only a matter of time," Elessidil encouraged. "'Mastery' is often an elusive thing; the more you really know something, the more you realize there is that you don't know. It's the true masters of any field that understand that."

Saul had plenty on his mind on this matter, but he didn't want to share his doubts about Tactical with Brian. After all, the man was still a Galaxy counselor, and hearing the Chief Tactical Officer having second thoughts about being Chief Tactical Officer wasn't something Brian would or could keep to himself.

"Speaking of mastery," Saul continued, "I've done my entire Master's thesis on the Hydrans, without being on any of their worlds. I think it's time I saw them with my own eyes, not through the Galaxy's viewscreen."

"Hm. Yeah, then I'd say it's high time you made your own first contact." Brian paused for a moment as a thought came to mind. "What can you tell me about the Hydrans, Saul? I'm not overly familiar with them myself, academically or otherwise. I'm sure there are things that would be useful to know going into this."

"The Hydrans." Saul shifted in his bunk. "I could tell you how their body is built, what are their deadliest ships, how they mate, or even why I think the Federation was very foolish in its attitude toward them ever since first contact. Just tell me what interests you."

"Well," Brian responded, thinking for a moment. "Actually, knowing a little about their historical relations with the Federation might be a good place to start. What problems do you see there?"

"For starters, not much attention. The Hydrans were never high on the Federation's foreign affairs priority scale. There were Klingons to worry about, and Romulans, and Cardassians and the Dominion and what's not. If that's not enough, right now we're affiliated with the Klingons. Nearly two hundred years ago, both the Klingons and the Lyrans attacked the Hydrans. The Hydrans lost territories. The fighting left a scar in the Hydrans' collective memory, which is has a major effect today. First, they have a vendetta against the Klingons, and if the Federation is a friend of the Klingons, it isn't a friend of the Hydrans. And second... they learnt that to win, you must ally yourself with others, and pounce on a lone, weak prey. We're nearly a decade after the war with the Dominion, but the Federation is still the weakened by its aftermath."

On the top bunk, Saul scowled. "Bottom line, the Hydrans are applying two-centuries-old lessons against us. We are still licking our wounds, and they have strong new friends. Alone, I don't think that they would have tried us. But with the Breen and the T'Kith'kin on their flanks, they feel like this time they are on the strong side, and they should show no more mercy than the Klingons or the Lyrans showed them in the past."

"Hm. No wonder the Federation is eager to keep tabs on things," Brian mused.

"Hopefully, our mission should be a step in the right direction," Saul offered. "The only way to disarm the triad without bloodshed is to desperate the allies. Perhaps, by understanding what happens at Vaden, we'll be able to turn the allies against each other. One can only hope."

"Hope and wait and see," Brian agreed. As far as he was concerned, the waiting was the more difficult of the two. After a pause, the counselor sighed and punched at his pillow one more time. "I'm going to try one more time to actually get some sleep. Maybe it'll make the waiting easier."

"All right." Saul rolled once more, this time facing the wall, and closed his eyes. His long-winded lecture about the Hydrans would probably put even a hyperactive El-Aurian to sleep.

Or hopefully a sleepless Betazoid.

"The Anger" - Part 2

Lieutenant J.G. Saul Bental

Chief Tactical Officer

Soundtrack: "The Anger", Rockfour

Saul finished memorizing all the important facts about the Siave Shuni corporation. He slipped the PADD to his pocket, along with the lifesigns detector. Standing up, he wiped his jacket clean of the dust that clung to it, and began to make his way up the maintenance shaft again.

On the way back to the more hospitable regions of the Backbroken's rewards, he recalled his journey once more. This time, his thoughts strayed to the first shuttle he took. The one that departed from Napoli city's main spaceport.

The memory wasn't blurred by time. When he sneaked into the shuttle, something caught his eye. He ignored it then, and only when they had that incident with the real dreams during their passage to Trill – the incident which ended with them fighting with the Dershayans – did his subconscious reveal to him what was it that he saw on the dock.

It was Chava. She came to see him leave.

* * * 2381, En route to Trill / 2375, Napoli spaceport, Utrecht III * * *

The spaceport of Napoli was on the seaside part of town, and the landing platforms were like giant, disarrayed stairs leading into the sea. Each platform was surrounded by a fence, and a small control tower was located in one of the fence's corners.

This time, like on 2381 and unlike 2375, he went to explore the flash of light that caught his eye just before boarding the shuttle. He knew where to find her – he already did on 2381. She hid behind the control panel of the tower. She was four years younger than him. Her skin was blue, and her hair short, brown and curly. Her cloths were messy, a navy-colored overall and a jacket torn in four different places. On her head an oversized cap.

"So, Shaul, you're running away." She said, placing her hands on her hips defiantly.

"I'm leaving, Chava. There's nothing for me here. When you grow up, perhaps you'll reach the same conclusion and leave. Perhaps not."

"But you will return."

Saul knew why he didn't stop to see what the flash of color was, in reality. He guessed that it was probably Chava, stalking him.

She quit school, just like he did several years before that, and joined a street gang he was part of. Well, 'gang' was perhaps an overly harsh adjective to describe them. They were just another group of street boys, keeping themselves occupied and alive, and occasionally crossing the border between childish mischievousness to criminal activity.

He was the one who taught her how to pick a pocket, although he never did it himself. His coordination wasn't good enough, and the challenge was more physical than mental – he preferred the second type of challenges, the one where you use your head to prevail and with minimum risk.

A year later, she was already one of the most infamous pickpocket in the streets of Napoli. He was proud of her, just like a big brother proud of his little sister when the darned brat finally does something right.

"I won't be back. I'm going to the civilized heart of the Federation. As far from here as possible. Do you know that in the central systems of the Federation, every citizen has unlimited access to Replicators and no one ever gets hungry? If you want a Pizza, you just go ahead and replicate one, without worrying that you won't have enough credits to pay bills or replicate yourself another Pizza the next time you're hungry."

"So you're going to 'make the hit'. Get yourself a cozy house on Earth, and just sit back and watch the universe go by, with a glass of orange juice on the side?"

"That's my plan."

"It isn't."

Saul got a little agitated. "I see no reason why not. It's very easy, this isn't the 21st century, no one has to fight for day-to-day survival. The core worlds are truly that rich, and their endless wealth isn't going to drain during our lifetime. I see no reason to struggle when I can be given all that I want for free."

"But you want more than that. I know you, Shaul Bental, you can't stay still. You can't sit back and let the universe go by."

Saul's face softened. "You are right. I think I'll find a hobby, then."

"A hobby? Ha!"

"I'll find it during that flight, actually. By the time I reach Earth, after switching eight different shuttles and spaceships and crossing countless light years, I will resolve to become a Starfleet officer. After being locked within the boundaries of this cursed city, I will grow a passion to explore the vast reaches of space, to see what the great universe has to offer. To fulfill myself."

She didn't answer. But he could read her thoughts all over her now wrinkled face. 'And leave me behind?', she wanted to shout at him. He knew it, and he was not going to do anything about it.

And then it was time to leave. Saul held on to his bag's straps, and began to run toward the shuttle. As he reached its cargo doors, however, he turned toward Chava one last time.

"Oh, and Eve?" he asked, using the Federation Standard pronunciation of her name.

"Yes?!" she shouted, the frustration barely contained in her voice.

"You were right about the other thing as well."

And so she was. Saul gazed at the scenery of Utrecht III one last time. For the next eight years, he won't see the rusted rooftops, the tall sky scrapers of the commercial section, the hovercrafts buzzing from one area to the other while spreading a constant cloud of smog, or the scarlet sand hills and the remote cliffs beyond the city.

He'll see them again this year, he knew. He had no illusions about that whatsoever.

The cargo doors closed behind Saul, and soon the shuttle took off, carrying him away from his homeworld.

* * * 2383, Backbroken's Reward, between decks * * *

A cloud of dust filled Saul's eyes as he grabbed a lever. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them they were moist. He wasn't sad, no, it was just that bloody dust. He wiped his eye with the back of his hand, cursed in Dutch, and continued the climb.

* * *

If reasons exist, today, they're insignificant.

Diving, fading, burying my head in the sand

Asking questions –the flames from within remain

Trying to soar, and always falling down again

The anger is sealed by now but it shakes me from inside

Between the exposed corners - there is no place to hide.

When you'll come there'll be nothing – it's like a different place.

I run away and call for you, can't keep up the pace.

* * * Present Time, the Vaden system, Hydran Sovereign Monarchy * * *

The transport was four times larger than the Backbroken's Reward. Its rear cargo bay was open, and a swarm of Vaden natives came in and out of it, carrying unmarked boxes. A single figured stood on a catwalk above them, her hands folded. She remained motionless when one of the port workers was ran over by a large robot that carried four heavy crates.

A Hydran Gral'Mev made his way up the catwalk, and approached her. His eye wiggled, focusing on her unique appearance. He was taught that the Human skin was pink or brown, not blue.

Odd.

He wasn't fond of the fact that they let Humans into the Vaden system. Surely, some of them could be spies, and the Hydran Sovereign Monarchy didn't want any Starfleet eyes at Vaden. But his superiors said that it was essential, and he was not the one to question his superiors.

"How is the unloading proceeding?", He demanded.

"As planned.", She responded simply, her gaze still fixed on the transport. Her left hand combed her brown curls.

"Good. Top quality, I hope? If we discover any damaged goods, well… you are a long way from your Starfleet, and even though two limbs are not much, there could be even less."

If the explicit threat had any impact, it didn't show. "All of the goods are top quality.", Chava told the Hydran. "They always are, and always will be. That is our obligation to all of our clients. Courtesy of the fox."

"Lost In the Woods" pt I

Major Corran Rex
Lieutenant (Brevet) Teyri Jen
Flight Officer Padma Xiaz
Pilot Anna Lewis (Frank)

----------------
The Jungle
Location Unknown
----------------

Corran Rex awoke to find himself flat on his back. This wouldn't have been a particularly unusual occurrence - in fact, he often slept that way - if not for the location.

As his eyes fought - and eventually won - their battle to focus, his brain started playing catch up. he was looking up, at the thick, leafy branches of forest canopy, and finally began to take note of the fact that his back hurt. Quite a lot, actually. It probably had something to do with the flat rock that was barely rising out of the dirt to poke him in his left side.

The last few seconds in the runabout started coming to mind then. He barely remembered triggering the emergency transporter escape system which should have - theoretically - beamed him safely to the ground. Judging by the condition he found himself in, the process had worked - along with transferring a fair bit of inertia along with the rest of his molecules. He had to have materialize and then gone tumbling through the forest, accounting for the many aches and pains he now felt.

Nothing seemed to be broken as he scrabbled up from the forest floor, steadying himself on a nearby tree trunk that looked to be about as thick around as the entire diameter of the Galaxy's bridge.

Sturdy tree, that.

His uniform had about a dozen small tears in it, including a rather large one on the back of his leg. Feeling the area gingerly, he winced as he found a particularly sticky area that had to be his own blood. Twisting around, he was able to see the six inch gash on the back of his thigh, and was forced to limp.

If the evacuation transporter had worked right, then the runabout's survival gear had to be nearby - not to mention the rest of his pilots. He'd have to find them quickly. The runabout's wreckage wasn't far away and the Jem Hadar - if that was who'd shot them down - wouldn't be long, either.

Checking the ground, he found a suitable walking stick (after he broke off some of it's smaller branches), tore off a strip of his undershirt to provide a temporary bandage for his leg, and began the search.

He didn't have to go far to find the first of his pilots. Teyri Jen lay crumbled on the ground somewhat close to him, although she had managed to roll under a bush. He almost stumbled over her before his eyes finally focused enough to see that she wasn't, in fact, just an oddly shaped tree root.

Jen wasn't knocked out, but she didn't fully trust herself to be able to sit up just yet. Her head had hit the ground fairly hard, and the scenery was still tumbling around her sickeningly. When Corran's face came into her field of view, she winced and closed her eyes. She wasn't quite ready for there to be four of him. One was certainly enough.

His critical eye passed over his Bajoran exec, and he lowered himself down to check on her. Her pulse was good and strong, if only slightly thready. She might have a mild concussion, but the med kit would take care of that.

Hopefully that'd be all it was. Corran locked gazes with her as she opened her eyes and tried to focus on him. "Lieutenant, can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I'm good, if you can just... help me sit up... or stop the planet from moving around." Accepting the helping hand underneath her arm - which she noticed wasn't too steady itself - Jen carefully levered herself into a sitting position. Then, when her head didn't fall off like it threatened to, she slowly stood up. Once she was all the way up, the planet tilted crazily, and then steadied itself out. She breathed deeply for a couple of seconds, and then shook off Corran's helping hand.

"I'm doing better," she said, in response to his questioning look. "That was a hell of a thing, wasn't it? I've been shot down before, and I must say, I don't care for the experience. I have to remind myself not to let it happen again."

"Yeah, you and me both." he muttered, pulling himself up on his walking stick.

She chuckled weakly at that, and then looked around, noticing that it was just the two of them. "Where's Pad?" she asked. "And Anna?" It looked fairly deserted around where they had 'landed', but that didn't erase the possibility that someone could have snuck up on them while Jen and Corran were out of it, and taken the other two pilots. Jen couldn't entirely suppress the shiver that occurred at that thought.

"I'm not sure." he replied with a shake of his head. "You're the first one I've found. Hopefully we'll find Xiaz and Lewis nearer the crash of the front cabin. O'Connor and Lansky were in the back, so I'm hoping they'll be close to it." the Major said. Jen couldn't help but note that he was referring to everyone by their last names. It was a habit Rex lapsed into when he started distancing himself from his thoughts of people. As many squadron-mates as he'd lost over the years, it was an understandable psychological defense mechanism.

She looked at him, but he avoided her gaze and gestured towards the wreckage awkwardly with his free hand.

"Come on. The front cabin's this way, judging by the damage to the treeline. We've got to move quickly before the Jem Hadar arrive." the Trill said, limping along with his makeshift walking stick as best he could.

They arrived before too long - the e.t.s. hadn't beamed them very far away. It didn't seem to have gotten everyone, though, judging by the sounds coming from the remains of the compartment.

"What's that?" Jen whispered.

The soft tapping noise was coming from some of the runabout's wreckage. They moved, lifting up the remains of the wing, half a chair, some bulkhead pieces. "Careful," Xiaz coughed, cringing. She was crumbled, deep in the dirt and on a bed of leaves and branches. She had a hand over her face, was scratched, bruised and bleeding, some shrapnel in her skin. There were several broken bones. But her legs seemed to work okay, it was her upper body that was in shitty shape: ribs, mostly, her collar bone was probably cracked, something in her back was off.

It really hurt. A lot. And should even more, but she felt the cold, weird sense of shock in the back of her throat.

"Be careful, I think I might be attached to some of this." She gingerly pushed a few lighter pieces away with the arm that would move okay enough. "Nice landing, Rexie, that's why I should've…" She groaned a little as the pressure came off one of her legs. "That's why I drive."

"Yeah, yeah."he replied, helping move the debris off of her."Lieutenant, check the Flight Officer's condition." he said, tossing her the tricorder that had been on his waist. "I'm going to try to find the survival gear, and see if Pilot Lewis is nearby."

Jen caught it deftly, and then flipped it on, pointing it at the supine flight officer. "Pad, can you move your legs at all?" she asked, scanning her friend slowly.

"A little." the female Trill nodded as Jen started scanning over her.

Anna Lewis was coming to a few meters above them. The sun was blindingly bright and poorly positioned. Whoever had invited it to the party had clearly not given it the message that Anna was tired and did not want to be disturbed. She groaned and tried to sit up, squinting to try to see what she was doing. For some reason that was a lot harder than it should have been, and the pain in her right leg was more intense than any she'd ever experienced. She gave up, wondering if for some reason gravity had broken. And now, to make matters worse, the trees were all upside down... or was it her eyes? Had the crash flipped her eyes or scrambled her nerve connections? The crash?

As the haze started to lift from her brain, Anna realized her problem. She was upside down, suspended in a tree by a right leg that was wedged between two branches. Pulling her head back, she look down at the burned out wreckage, and her squadmates slowly moving around. "Rex, I'm up here," she called out, drawing his attention up into the tree. "Could you do me a favor?"

Corran's gaze darted up as he saw where his wingmate had gotten herself. Despite the situation, he had to laugh. "Yeah, Lewis?"

"Find your fighter, fly up there and shoot down the sun for me," she suggested, "That should put things back to rights. I think my leg is broken... and I hit my head."

"I'm not surprised." he muttered, and started looking around for the survival lockers. He was acutely aware of the fact that they'd need to move quickly. He was also more than aware of the fact that, according to the tricorder, the rear half of the runabout - and presumably O'Connor and Lansky - were nearly twenty miles to the south. "Just stay put, Lewis. Don't move around too much, and we'll have you down quick as can be."

"I'm holding you to that, Major."

"Silent Lucidity"

By Kylar Curran,
Chief Liaison Officer

*****

Central Hall, Habitat Center Level 2

After Goran`Agar had left the group in the observation area at the rear of the central hall, the Starfleet group had moved away from the rest of the delegates from ch'Rihan and the Hydra Coreworld while the shock troops that were escorting them followed along closely. Curran had moved to the upper section to better view the impact location.

There was plenty of discussion on the motives between them all, most of which was quite valid, but in the end, they were still more questions than answers.

While awaiting the return of the Jem`Hadar First, Curran stood at the apex of a structural cornerstone central to the group of arches that looked out upon the plains of the planet Junction. Thin wheat fields stretched to the east far into a valley of sea-green that rolled out into what gave an impression of undulating sea waves. The final crests met a lavender treeline that sparkled and twisted against the crosswinds that came scurrying over the majestic snow-capped mountains into the vale where the Jem`Hadar settlement lay. Kylar felt the cool breeze upon his face and closed his eyes momentarily to enhance the other senses.

Being a Kelvan, your life was made to be in the oceans. Scents and aromas came differently to his species in their natural-born state. The tangy smell of seaweed and ocean fauna would envelop a natural Kelvan in an embrace of dimensionalism that wasn't to be found as a human. The ocean lived in, around, and through you. The freedom of movement in following your much sharper and diverse sense that merged both taste and smell into one form was something that couldn't be expressed. Human expression and separation of the two senses dulled the experience for him. It wasn't surreal, and only intensified his feelings of isolationism from his earlier life.

But it could be said that separating the senses also gave it a more... personal moment. He could sense the ocean on the fringe of a crosswind that intersected and whipped around the hemispheric overlook of the hall as it rested upon a cliff that peered down into the ravine below.

Kylar opened his eyes against the experience and followed the twists of the rock and dark face of the canyon the ravine flowed out of by peering out over the balcony rails of etched stone. Great rushes of dark water sullied by the erosion of the cliff faces roiled out of the canyon as a fierce wave to come crashing to a halt upon a dam built out of the rock that separated the land from the sea. The sheer stillness of the great pool that resided at the uppermost section of the dam was hypnotic when compared against the anger of the raw power that came out of the mountains.

Large aqueducts and tributaries struck out from the barrier and into the foliage, the wheat fields, and under the settlement itself. It was amazing what the Jem`Hadar had accomplished here.

When Kylar looked out to the west where the objects had fallen much earlier, his eye caught the slender trail of something that reached up into the sky just above the treetops not far along the coastline. He wouldn't have caught it except for the failing light breaking through an overcast sky to glint off the material it was comprised of.

He turned to one of the Jem`Hadar shock troopers nearby. It stood still as a stature, cradling his concussion rifle in a posture that couldn't make Curran anything but uncomfortable.

"Is that the cloning facility that Goran`Agar had disclosed to us as being out there? The one that was in danger of collateral damage?"

"Yes."

"Take me to it. I wish to view the processes. Your First has invited us to freely explore the settlement." In truth, Kylar felt more drawn to the olive-green ocean that stretched along the coastline up to the facility in itself. There was no doubt he did desire to see the facility, but his first priority was to determine what had crashed out there. It was an added pleasure to be near an ocean much like his home, though.

The Jem`Hadar soldier nodded his head once, tersely, speaking into a communication bracelet with a language Curran did not recognize, nor was translated by the UT.

"What were you just doing?" Kylar nodded off to the other Starfleet personnel that he was leaving, and then pointed to the bracelet.

"Informing central security of our movements."

"Ah. Hold on a moment while I inform Starfleet of 'our movements'." The shock trooper did not move or acknowledge the Liaison Officer's statement. Curran took that as a positive as he searched the area for Captain Henderson. Unable to locate him in the throng - it was a very large viewing center after all - Curran instead touched his diplomatic insignia commbadge.

"Curran to Henderson."

[Henderson here, Vice-Legate.]

Kylar then relayed his agenda to the acting Captain, assuring him he would be taking a Starfleet Security contingent along.

[Watch out for those predatory insects, Legate. Doctor Burton still has not completed her analysis of the inoculations.]

Kylar fingered the hypo that had been left with him. He hoped he would not have to inject himself without further study of its contents.

"If one of those creatures attacks me, then we'll find out just how effective the vaccines are."

[Just be careful. Check in every hour.]

"Agreed, Captain. Curran out." He swung an arm out to the shock trooper. "Lead the way."

****

The twin suns were setting quickly on Junction. The shock trooper had met up with another when they reached the bottom of a set of stairs hewn out of rock that led to the walkway over the damn. Curran had contacted the ship while en route and had a pair of security officers beam down as well.

Curran handed out inoculation packs to the Terran and Caitian guards.

"Do not take these unless and until I give the order to." He peered down at the miniature Caitian and shook his head. "The Jem`Hadar have reported a large predatory insect that preys on organic flesh. Doctor Burton has not given consent on injecting these vaccines as yet. We are unaware of the consequences of doing so as yet." He then laid out his intentions on what the goal of the exercise in examining the facility, careful to avoid the shock troopers escorting them overhear his true goals. Only he would retain that information at this point in time.

"Ensign Hanley, cover the Jem`Hadar from the left. Ensign Khatrowren, cover the point." With a quick nod and no questions, the two 'fleeters fell in behind the guards, careful to keep Curran in the center and between them as they moved out in a diamond formation.

Curran marveled at the absolute calm of the ocean to the west. It stretched on for kilometers, mixing with the horizon and sinking second sun into a shade of blue that would be the appearance of dawn on Earth. The first sun had already dipped below.

Their booted feet clicked along the opaque stone under their heels. It was an odd sensation. With the dimming light against stone as dark as ebon, it was disconcerting to the inner ear. He felt off-balance.

"Be alert." The lead Jem`Hadar, having remained quiet for virtually the entire trip down to the dam they were now crossing, spoke up suddenly, startling them all. "The predators come out about this time."

"Why did you not warn us of their habits?" Curran almost stopped, but oddly felt the need to press on. He felt an urgency to reach the facility. Perhaps being out in the open was what made him feel vulnerable.

"You did not ask." Kylar heard the concussion rifle shift, and then bright lights flared up along the walkway to face outward. "The lights drive them off. We still must move quickly." And with that, they picked up the pace.

It didn't take long to cross the dam crosswalk. Maybe ten minutes. When they reached the end, the Jem`Hadar stopped suddenly.

"We are less than half a kilometer from the facility. Illuminate your torches. The predators live amongst the trees."

Curran nodded, and made his hourly check-in with Henderson.

*****

It was when they were but several dozen meters into the forest along the coastal inlay that Curran felt the stabbing sensation on the back of his neck. The last thoughts he had were of how enthralling the ocean breeze was.

He never had time to inject the vaccine.

[Backpost}

"Fear and Loathing, Lung Vacant"

Principle Characters

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS-Galaxy

Lieutenant (J.G.) Victor Krieghoff
Security Officer, USS-Galaxy

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 12
Sickbay

"Tamara, tell me, just how is this man still alive?" Kimberly asked as she walked out of her office and perched on her yeoman's desk, "have you seen this file?" she asked.

"Only the parts I'm cleared to see Ma'am," Tamara replied with a strange look on her face, "but rumors do spread about him, he's, pretty tough," she finished the look on her face shifting slowly to an almost dreamy look.

~ Goddess, what is it about Security officers and Nurses, it's almost Like cops and nurses back in the twentieth century! ~ she thought to herself, after scanning the file of one Lieutenant Krieghoff, following a report of a possibly illegal lung ~ An illegal lung! What next? This place is without a doubt, Weird! ~ she decided, she figured it was about that time, "When he arrives, you stay clear of him!" Kimberly warned, "go find me a biobed and prep it for a routing physical and a holographic imaging please," she asked as she tapped her combadge, =/\= "Burton to Lieutenant Krieghoff," =/\= she called to the air as she returned to her office, recalling the notes from the previous CMO's and Doctors who had attended the JG she figured a call would be better than a memo, looking at the Lieutenant's schedule she picked a time.

=/\= "Krieghoff here." The voice was toneless and menacing, as much for an indefinable *wrongness* as for lack of the normal human verbal emotional cues.

=/\= "Lieutenant, this is the CMO, would you report to sickbay at the end of your duty shift please?" =/\= she asked politely, =/\= "I would like to update your file." =/\=

After a pause just long enough to make her think that there would be no response, another toneless response came; sending skitters of unease up and down the spines of those present. =/\= "Understood." =/\=

Listening to the voice at the other end of the comms Kimberly found herself wondering about this one, he sounded more emotionally controlled than a Vulcan, and about as cheery as a wet blanket, ~ Ah well! ~ =/\= Thank you, =/\= she replied simply as she closed the line... Hoping that meeting him face to face would be more enlightening she returned to her paperwork.

There was no further acknowledgement from Krieghoff.

****

Nearing the end of the duty shift Kimberly set aside her PADDs and stretched, picking up her tricorder she checked the settings as she walked out, ~ How in the name of the Goddess do you get an 'illegal' lung actually implanted in this day and age? ~ she wondered. Bypassing the question of where it had actually come from, she ran the parts of his file she had read through her mind as she waited, at the very least she realized, this place was keeping her on her toes.

Exactly one minute earlier than scheduled, the doors to Sickbay slid open, and Victor walked in. Two steps later, a pair of nurses diverted in their rounds to retreat to the far side of the room from him, and the only patient currently receiving treatment shrank back on their biobed, trying to crawl back into the display panel. After another pair of steps, a technician walking out of one of the labs jerked visibly as he stepped through the door while Krieghoff was passing by, and spilled the instrument tray in his hands onto the floor.

Victor ignored the incidents as if they were so commonplace that they no longer merited notice, located Kimberly with a glance around the room, and stopped about four meters away. "Reporting as ordered," he said quietly in that same menacing, toneless voice.

Turning to face Krieghoff Kimberly found her smile wavering as she saw him and for an instant her mind wavered and she found her heart pounding... for a moment her mind was filled with images... memories... fears... it was as if the dead had finally come to judge her... Blinking she looked up at the stern and unwavering face in front of her and did the only thing her conscious mind could conceive of at that moment.

She bolted.

Startled as her boss fled past her Tamara looked at Krieghoff with a moment of confusion and then smiled at him cheerfully, "Have a seat Sir," she offered, indicating the nearby biobed, "I'm sure Doctor Burton will be back in a moment," she informed him, making sure he wasn't about to leave she maintained the smile until she was out of sight and then went in search of her boss.

Victor watched the doctor flee expressionlessly. It was, after all, hardly the first time he'd seen it happen. It normally only happened with Betazoids, though. As he waited for the nurse to return, he called the doctor's file up on his padd.

Checking with the computer Tamara easily found her boss, sat on the floor behind her desk, "Uh, Ma'am? Is, err... what's wrong?" she started uncertainly.

Trying to control her breathing Kimberly hugged her knees for a moment, trying also to control the flood of unwanted emotions and memories, looking up at her aide she smiled wanly, "Sorry, just a little queasiness," she lied unconvincingly, "let Mr. Krieghoff know I'll be out in a moment," she asked.

"Do you need anything?" Tamara asked, concern evident in her voice.

Shaking her head, "Just a moment alone, okay," looking pointedly at the door she waited until Tamara had left and pulled herself up. Calling up Krieghoff's file she scrolled down to the images and felt unholy things shiver up and down her spine as she looked at the face there that stared back at her... "So like him!" she muttered as she flopped gracelessly into her chair.

Spending a moment collecting herself she reminded her conscious mind that Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff wasn't here to torment her, nor was he a walking corpse... taking a deep breath she got up and walked unsteadily to the door, pausing a moment at the door she steadied herself and returned to the waiting Lieutenant.

Feeling her heart pound again as she saw Krieghoff she bit the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood, pausing at the end of the biobed she collected herself again, "Lieutenant, my, apologies," she offered, "shall we begin?"

"Begin what?" As if he wasn't aware of the reason he was here.

"Well, the main reason I asked you here was to update your file regarding your lung, and discuss options," she started, feeling a little easier switching directly into Doctor mode, ignoring social niceties for now she figured she could apologize and be nice later... much later.

Victor looked at her for a moment, eyes on hers, but still not missing the quaver in her voice and the way her hands trembled slightly as she clenched her padd to keep the shaking from being worse. "You can't treat me," he said tonelessly, frowning at her.

"And may I ask why not?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"You may not be Betazoid," he held up his padd, to show the public-access portion of her file displayed there. "But you're reacting like one. You can't think or make decisions like this. Get one of the Vulcans to make the updates - I don't bother them."

Gritting her teeth she bit back a retort that hovered there for a moment, "I believe I am capable of deciding if I can do my job Lieutenant, my... reaction, is none of your concern," she said with a somewhat uncharacteristic harshness in her voice, "so unless you have any other reason not to continue I suggest we do so, this note about your lung has been sat on my desk and it's about time we spoke."

Victor's frown increased as he tried to decide why the woman wanted to do this to herself. "If you feel the need to do this to yourself, Lieutenant, I don't have the authority to tell you not to - but understand that whatever it is that you're doing, or think you're doing, by making yourself suffer like this is *your* decision, I tried to alleviate your distress." He set the padd down. "As for the lung, it's illegal, I breathe with it anyway, and I'm still awaiting a reply from my messages to the individual responsible for my having it. What else is there to say?"

"I feel the need to ask you about a legal issue that has crossed the desk of the CMO Lieutenant," she replied, "my personal feelings can wait," ~ Goddess above! ~ she thought, taking another deep breath, ~ he's right about one thing though... this isn't easy, what am I trying to prove here! ... and to who? ~

"I have a note from the JAG office here about this, pending the decision, we need to discuss your options if extraction is ordered, a cloned lung or biosynthetic is possible, but we'll need time to prepare either option, and I need your input on the decision," she said flatly, turning slightly so she wasn't looking at him, but rather at the bed readouts, "living with one lung isn't necessary Lieutenant, there are alternatives."

"If cutting the lung out was the real issue, Doctor, I would have already had that done, or done it myself. It isn't the issue, though; how I got the lung is. That's what JAG wants to know. Until they're satisfied that I didn't have it put in myself, they won't let it be removed because that would be destroying evidence."

~ Done it yourself? Go ahead! ~ she thought suddenly, ~ that I'd love to see! ~ cutting her thoughts short she reminded herself this was not the time, nor place for that line of thinking, "There is however the possibility that replacing the lung might be required though," she suggested after a moments hesitation, "and I would like your thoughts on the options," she repeated.

Victor shrugged. "What I replace it with is irrelevant, Doctor. I had a cloned lung before, it wasn't a very good job, standard war-issue. I could tell it wasn't really a part of me. If that's what you're offering, I'll take the biosynthetic lung instead. At least it won't be pretending to actually be a part of me."

Nodding, Kimberly took another deep breath and actually turned to face Victor, glad to be talking about something she 'could' fix, "I can probably do better than your last lung, we can take cells from your healthy lung and use them as a culture for a replacement, so the new one would be literally as good as the old one, the bio-synthetic option though is there if you wish it though... What I'll need though is a detailed holoscan of your lungs, as well as a tissue sample from your 'normal' lung, so we can prepare either option should they be required, cloning or bio-synthetic replication takes a little time and I'd like to have the cultures ready for you just in case."

"That seems reasonable," he agreed. "But there will have to be significant improvement in this cloned tissue lung for me to keep it."

"Also Lieutenant, while I would have to recommend against you removing the lung yourself, if you do feel the need or urge to do so please come here to do it," ~ so I can watch if nothing else! ~ she thought acerbically. Shaking her head to dismiss 'that' line of thought, "we have the requisite equipment, plus experience getting blood out of the carpet," she added, trying to lighten the mood, mainly her mood, and failing. Looking at Victor's face once again she found herself looking into his eyes, and realized for the first time what the term 'soulless' meant... there seemed nothing there... shuddering she looked away suddenly, unable, and unwilling to look at his face again for the moment.

"It doesn't look like that will be necessary Doctor, but I will keep that in mind." Victor looked at her for a moment more, head tilted to one side, waiting. Finally he prompted, "Doctor?"

"Lieutenant?" she replied simply, not wanting, or trusting herself to say anything further at that moment.

"Are you finished punishing yourself with my presence for the moment?"

"Just ca...!" she started to snap at him, stopping herself in time though she took a breath, "yes," she admitted finally, "I'll have a nurse come over and get the biopsy we'll need and to do the scan, after that you're free to leave," she informed him flatly, "good day Lieutenant," she said. Dropping her unused tricorder into a recharge slot Kimberly grabbed a passing nurse and gave him swift and succinct instructions, then left without a backward glance as fast as she could.

Victor took one look at the nurse's shaking hand and reached for the sampler. "I'll take the sample, Nurse - easier for both of us that way." At least, he thought as the instrument hummed, it was easier than removing the lung himself was going to be.

“The Power Play…”

Commander Karyn Dallas
Chief Counsellor, USS-Galaxy

Lieutenant Kimberly Burton
Chief Medical Officer, USS-Galaxy

Ensign Eytan
Security Officer, USS-Galaxy

Ensign Keldan
Operations Officer, USS-Galaxy

Jem'Hadar Colony

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

As the blue shimmer of the tranporter effect faded from her sight Kimberly looked around, and a quick tricorder scan soon confirmed their location, as promised they were at the western most gate with the surrounding forest behind them, they could have beamed into the city directly, but that was just impolite.

Casting a quick eye over the buildings Kimberly looked to her colleagues, she was, she had to admit, more interested in studying the Jem'Hadar and their new found reproductive capability, all in good time though, "Any suggestions?" she asked, she may be FCO cleared, but this was a first.

Karyn smiled at the new FCO cleared for this mission. She was interested to see how Kimberly handled her new responsibilities. Dallas had to admit, it was nice to be able to sit back and take everything in without the stress of leading an Away Team. It wasn't something she'd admit publicly as Second Officer, but the prospect of leading such teams always made her ill. Ever since lan'jep, Dallas had struggled with her own insecurities as a command leader. Karyn was convinced the things that kept her in the job were her people skills and her sheer dedication, qualities that weren't too shabby, she supposed, for the intermediary between the FO and CO.

"Why don't we introduce ourselves to a local or two?" Dallas offered. "I know we're all anxious to explore on our own, but it makes sense to me to assure them we're not here just to sniff around conspicuously."

Eytan had materialized beside Commander Dallas and, as soon as the light of the transporter had faded from his sight, he'd immediately prepared himself to retaliate in case the Jem'Hadar had attacked. He hadn't fought in the Dominion War--heck, he was still in the Delta Quadrant at the time--but he'd read up on the Dominion and their genetically engineered soldiers, and found it difficult to believe these people's story right off the bat.

When he decided that it was relatively safe, the young security officer relaxed slightly, and he glanced over at Dallas as she made her comment. "I'm in security, Commander, I don't know how to do anything *but* sniff around conspicuously," he joked, an eyebrow rising as he gave Dallas a slight smile.

When Keldan opened his eyes, he was glad to find his feet on solid ground after that not-to-be-missed weak-in-the-knees feeling induced by the transporter beam. Immediately he looked around at his surroundings, reaching to his belt for his tricorder and taking readings on everything within scanning range.

The tricorder registered nothing out of the ordinary, but he would perform a more intensive scan once they were inside the settlement. Something about this entire situation didn't feel right; it was too out of the ordinary for all his previous experiences with the Jem'Hadar. Of course, if they did turn out to be the peaceful colony they claimed to be, he would have to make...adjustments to his attitude. But he had to do that all the time anyway, and a little more self-control and discipline never hurt anyone.

"It looks like we won't have to wait too long, Commander." He indicated a small group of Jem'Hadar that were approaching their beam-in site. They certainly looked friendly enough. Keldan was too used to seeing their warriors dressed in military uniforms and geared for combat to the hilt. But this assorted band of men, women and children looked almost...rustic.

They looked almost too rustic to Eytan, who still wasn't convinced that these Jem'Hadar weren't lying to them all. To his eyes they looked like they were trying too hard to look friendly, and it made the Brenari suspicious. He tried to reach out with his mind, hoping to get a feel for their true intentions, but it was useless. His telepathy had been significantly weakened thanks to the Devore; if he wanted to read the Jem'Hadar's minds, he'd have to get close enough to touch them. ~It figures that I finally go into a field where my telepathy would actually be useful and I can't fully use it,~ he complained mentally, frowning as he eyed the approaching Jem'Hadar with caution.

Karyn was tempted to introduce herself right off the bat but realized she would then offer the impression that she was in charge. That was not the case this time. Still, she smiled at the approaching group and offered her best relaxed posture.

A group of four Jem'Hadar, two males and two females, or so she surmised, approached. The one she perceived to be the oldest male spoke first. "You must be from the USS Galaxy. Welcome. My name is Kor'a'Thus, formerly a Sixth and now a member of our colony's security staff." He bowed slightly. "This," he said indicating what appeared to be a female Jem'Hadar, "is Na'Toha. She is one of our primary physicians at the colony as well as an administrator at our medical centre."

Looking around at the small team Kimberly realised they were waiting for her to talk, taking a step forward she tried to look past the Jem'Hadar and the associated memories that came with the image and took a small breath, "Hello, yes we're from the USS Galaxy," she started, "I'm Lieutenant Kimberly Burton, and this is Commander Karyn Dallas and Ensigns Eytan and Keldan," she introduced the small team, "thank you for inviting us," she started politely, nodding slightly to both Jem'hadar she smiled at Na'Toha slightly, "and we're very pleased to meet you."

"I have been instructed by Goran'Agar to extend to you every courtesy during your stay here with us. We will do our best to accomodate any request you may have." His forced stance visibly relaxed, and he smiled weakly at Na'Toha. "As you would no doubt guess, we do not often get visitors here. I am very honoured to be able to greet you now."

"I too am pleased to meet you all," Na'Toha said simply, her severe reptilian appearance offset somewhat by the smooth and soft voice, looking at the assembled officers with curiosity, "what are your responsibilities if I may ask?"

"I'm the ships Chief Medical Officer," she replied, "so as you might imagine I have a burning curiosity to talk to you about many things," Kimberly assured Na'Toha, "and also to look around if we might?"

Seeing the female Jem'Hadar hesitate somewhat, perhaps in deference to the older male, Karyn decided to introduce herself. "I am the ship's Chief Counselor. I have medical training but my role is to see to the psychological and emotional well-being of the crew. I'd be very interested to learn about your medical facilities and other aspects of your culture."

Eytan nodded respectfully as he followed Burton and Dallas' introductions. "As Doctor Burton mentioned, my name is Eytan, and I'm a member of the Galaxy's security staff." He glanced over at Kor'a'Thus. "I am most interested in discussing your security operations and the methods used in the training of your officers. Perhaps we can learn a thing or two from each other that would benefit both your colony and the Galaxy," he added, giving the Jem'Hadar a sincere, friendly smile.

"You are certainly welcome to look around," Kor'a'Thus stated, his tone indicating he was back in security mode. "There are, of course, some areas of the colony you will require an escort. Na'Toha and I are at your disposal."

And no doubt, Keldan thought, some areas of the colony that you've been instructed to not let us get within 100 meters of. Nevertheless, it was time to put cynicism aside and play the part of gracious guest. "I am one of our ship's operations officers. I look forward to seeing first-hand how your colony has managed to flourish in such a relatively short period of time."

"Excellent." Kor'a'Thus stated flatly. "Na'Toha, why don't you escort our guests toward the medical facility, since that is of prime interest to them. Show them some of the things we've been working on. I must report to Goran'Agar that our guests have arrived and I will join you there shortly." As Na'Toha smiled and turned to walk through the gate into the innards of the colony, Kor'a'Thus extended a reptilian arm in invitation. "This way, if you please."

"Double Helix, Part I"

STARRING:

Vice-Legate Kylar Curran
Commander James Corgan
Lieutenant Commander Ekoma Janx
Lieutenant Ella Grey
Lieutenant JG Nieca Rey'ol
Second Lieutenant Branwen London
Corporal Falkor Vox

WITH:

Qasar'mereth Jivi'ka'jur
First Raj'Edu
Qui'mereth Ev'B'Ohn

AND:

The "Traitor"

== Hydran Private Chambers, Free Jem'Hadar Settlement ==

The guard bowed before his superior. Casting his eyes down to show proper respect, he waited for her to speak.

"Arise," she said. "Report."

["The assets have been secured, Qasar,"] the Jem'Hadar soldier said as his tri-dee hologram looked up to Qasar Jivi'ka'jur. ["They have been stripped and examined, and are now in holding."]

"You did not sedate them?"

["No, only immobilized, as ordered, Qasar,"] he affirmed.

She clacked her beak together sharply in approval. "Good. We will need them completely aware. Take measures to keep them bound at all times, Raj'Edu," she leaned forward, her three eyestalks scanning the young Jem'Hadar's projected face.

["Of course,"] he snorted, then remembered his place, casting his gaze down again. ["As you wish."]

"You may begin with experiments, First," She said. "For the Glory of the Union," she enounced.

["And for the warrior,"] he finished as his projection faded into the darkness.

== Unknown Location: Scientific Warfare Chamber ==

The First returned to the processing room, his deep-set eyes scanning the large room from the foyer's upper landing. Below him were the instruments for the *experiment*, as the Qasar was apt to call it. A long, low metal table sat in the forward center of the room, operating lights and scanners placed strategically above it. Several Hydran biodroids--bio-mechanical droids that were much sturdier than most simple organic species, and thus more useful for many tasks--prepared the table and test equipment while a few other Hydrans studied the stasis-monitors on each of the tubes.

First Edu stepped down from the observation platform, and walked swiftly to the team's chief surgeon, a Qui'mereth named Ev'b'ohn. "Status," he barked.

She turned two of her eyestalks toward him, while the remaining one stayed trained on the sensor readings. "All as planned, First. They are in semi-hibernative stasis, as ordered."

"They are conscious?" He asked, his tone making it clear that he had ordered it so, already.

"Yes, First. Again, as you ordered." She chattered her beak rapidly in what the First had come to recognize as mild annoyance.

"Your droids are ready?" he asked again.

"*Yes*, First." Again, the beak-chatter.

His dark eyes glanced from tube to tube, studying each inside. The Hydrans had arranged them by their "stature"; their rank and importance. Though they couldn't move, not even their eyes, he could see--he could *sense*--the fear they all had for him. 'Good, as it should be,' he thought.

"Which one to begin?" the Hydran asked.

"Which one is most prime?" he asked.

The Qui moved quickly on her tripodal legs, coming to a stop in front of the Trill's tube. "This one has already been seeded, First."

"Can you signature?" he asked, using the medical terminology that the Hydran was familiar with.

She swayed her eyestalks, in a *no* gesture. "Not without the scan. However, our Watcher tells us she is the mistress of the Captain, and--"

"Henderson?" Edu's beady eyes suddenly went wide.

"Yes, First. The *Henderson*," she hissed the Starfleet captain's reviled name while clicking her beak loudly.

The first grinned, his crooked teeth gleaming in the light. "Perfect, a combined sample. The Lords will be pleased. Proceed."

"Yes, First," the Qui said, before turning to manipulate the console holding the nude form of Ekoma Janx.

== Scientific Warfare Chamber: Pod 1 ==

The dream of being home once again coated Kylar from head to toe. He tried to move, but found himself held rigid in place. His mind was groggy, like swathed in cotton. He fought against it, not knowing why, but something didn't feel right about this. He used to have a dream... about... Karyn Dallas and Ammanalyn Lhywhyn, and... and... Kelva II washing away in the tides of time.

He blinked, and found the press of something liquid and viscous against his eyelids. The dream vanished, to be replaced by sheer murkiness of carbonated azureness around him. He tried to shake his head from side to side in sudden horror, unable to move his arms against some form of restraint. Air pushed into his lungs on its own accord. His body tried to hyperventilate, but then he felt a wash of sleepiness fall over him that didn't quite put him unconscious but rather into a lightened sleep. He was being sedated, he guessed.

The last thing he remembered was walking with his personal escort along a coastal inlay, just shy of dusk, after being given directions to one of their cloning facilities. Then nothing.

Where was he? Had he fallen into the ocean and drowned? Was his body evolving into a mutated hybrid of Kelvan and Terran to allow him to breath amphibiously? The object in his throat that pumped the air into him brought his thoughts back forward denying himself that aim of hope in becoming Kelvan once again. He struggled and fought against it, only to feel the rush of chemicals that sent him into oblivion.

== Scientific Warfare Chamber: Pod 2 ==

The world came back to him in a flood of light.

Opening his eyes for the first time in an unknown--but decidedly considered--long span (based on his grogginess and the wincing pain in his left shoulder blade), James Corgan woke up, his first thoughts being where he was and how he ended up there.

The ending up there was an easy part. Last night (was it last night?) held some rancorous celebrations on behalf of the Jem'Hadar. Then a beat-down. Then nothing until now.

James Corgan never had the distinction of being a POW. By luck, or pluck, he always avoided, evaded, missed or shot dead his potential captors. And it was always in wartime circumstances, such as the middle of a battlefield, the twisting networks of mud filled trenches, or the flaming wreckage of a starship still inexplicably fighting on. He was never in the position to be captured.

But he had to admit, once the shock of ending up in an alien environment wore thin, that their method of containment was fairly unique. He heard of fluidic containment before, but was never the victim of a fluidic holding cell in all his life. It was clammy and viscous, like a thick, syrupy, jelly like liquid that felt as chemically creepy as the formaldehyde used to preserve xeno-species specimens, with a pink transparency of newborn's skin.

It slicked his eyes, his skin, his crevices. It was everywhere but in his mouth and nose, which mercifully was hooked to a breathing apparatus. But unfortunately for him, as he tried to flail about in the first minute of his wakefulness, he found each arm and leg cuffed separately to the tank by lengths of taunt, metallic cord.

James tried to look down, and in the pinkish fluid he could see that he was clearly naked. Somehow seeing his tattoos, scars, and private areas slightly blurred in the suspension fluid lacked the impact of leaving him embarrassed, for the fact that he was captured in the first place was enough for the poor security chief to think about for his entire incarceration.

'Well f**k me sideways...' James thought in a resigned tone. 'It had to happen AFTER the f**king war. Stupid karma.'

== Scientific Warfare Chamber: Pod 3 ==

Slowly the world came back into focus. A throbbing pain laced through her forehead. The artificial light stabbed through her eyelids. The sudden, sick-slick feeling of a rebreather shoved down her throat.

She panicked.

Her heart rate skyrocketed as her eyes flew open...then stuck there. She couldn't close them. She couldn't move them. She couldn't move *anything*, she couldn't even *feel* anything from her body. Her breathing continued to drag out in rapid rasps, sending large exhaust bubbles floating though the murky pink fluid that was holding her in place.

A moment later, as her mind raced for answers to yet-unasked questions, she felt something *else*. Some other presence. Her tactical mind told her that she was being calmed; being sedated. Her breathing slowed and her heartrate returned to normal. She felt tired...but wired. Like she wanted to sleep the sleep of a thousand years, but couldn't, because her body was buzzing over with artificial...*awakeness*.

It was then that she saw the form--distorted as it was through her liquid prison--approach her. The way the Jem'Hadar (she *thought* that was what the creature looked like...yeah...and the other one was a...Hydran?) leered over her naked form, she would have screamed, if she could have.

== Scientific Warfare Chamber: Pod 4 ==

When she was a child, shortly before she had been proven an adept student in her music class, which thereafter put an end to all exploration, Ella had been given a SCUBA diving lesson from one of Laura's nephews. She hadn't been all that interested, to tell the truth, but she remembered that the nephew had been cute and she had just hit an age where cute boys were interesting

For the most part, Ella had enjoyed the experience, swimming along the ocean floor among the fishes without having to worry (too much) about that pesky breathing water/having air thing. She hadn't liked the sound of her breathing through the machine but it was a small price to pay for the soothing calm she had felt from undersea diving.

This was in no way like that experience, except perhaps for the respirator and the sound she imagined it made as it rhythmically pumped air into her lungs.

Ella fought to move but the only thing that seemed to be working were the wheels in her mind which seemed to be moving double time.

What had happened?

How had she gotten here?

And, more importantly, how was she going to get out?

== Scientific Warfare Chamber: Pod 5 ==

It had to be a nightmare.

She was positive that the awful tube down her throat and the luke-warm mucus Nieca was suspended in was nothing more then a long lost memory from her time spent in the war camps. POWs were often prone to traumatic stress disorder. It was nothing more then a terrible nightmare and like always, she would wake and take another sleeping pill. Right?

Right.

But as Nieca's vision cleared and the heavy fog lifted from her brain she realized that the only delusions were in her mind. Her clouded eyes focused on her reflection within the tube, her stripped figure was crippled and useless while her eyes remained dead and glassy. She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream and claw and bite and slay. but Nieca merely choked and gagged on her breathing tube before going completely lifeless once more.

She remembered how the Cardassians kept her chained to the guard house after she ate a man's tongue. How after one too many drinks she became a novelty rape or how after a bad day she was beaten until she had to fight to breathe.

But these things suddenly meant nothing as she watched her assailants prepare the medical tables. Nieca pleaded with her subconscious mind, she begged to lose consciousness before the mutilation began and that these memories would back into a nightmare.

== Scientific Warfare Chamber: Pod 6 ==

Branwen opened her eyes. Immediately, they widened. She was in a very strange environment. Something was lodged in her throat and she seemed to be moving in liquid. Moving her head a little bit, she saw she was naked. Immediately she blushed. Branwen hoped nobody else could see her. She hated people seeing the scars all over her body.

But she knew about confinement and fear. Her whole childhood had been filled with both. So Branwen stayed absolutely silent, conserving her strength for the moment she would need it; the moment she was going to escape.

== Scientific Warfare Chamber: Pod 7 ==

It twitched.

Its mind was slow, but it had been through this, before. It was aware, but it had no feeling...no control. The creature stirred again, unseen by the bio-droids or Hydran attendants; they were too busy prepping one of the other "specimens".

Suddenly, its eyes flew open, the searing heat and pain of the tank's light drilling into its sensitive, night-only eyes. It did not care, it *fed* on the pain, the bloodrush. It fed on it, and waited.

Waited to release.

------------
Elsewhere...
------------

No one had even suspected. No one thought one thing. She had played them all as if they were a harp. Anyone that knew her knew that she always wanted more. Had they been able to move or show signs of shock and awe, they clearly would have when her form stepped into the room.

Still dressed in her Starfleet uniform, but without her communications commbadge. A smile that could only be described as someone who had just played the ultimate joke. She approached Corgan's tube first and looked over his nude form. "We could have some fun," she told him. "I think Henderson is better..." she said, pausing to look at his lower body, "...better equipped for my needs." She said then patted the glass over his stomach.

~Oath breaking b*tch...~ Corgan weakly thought, unable to speak in the liquid statis pod. The expression of recognition and anger that twisted his features left no question as to what he was thinking.

"Don't be mad... I played everyone. Starfleet wouldn't give me what I wanted. The Hydrans will give me a glorious ship of my own...I can just take it." Anna O'Shea said, then snickered.

"The Young One"

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas,
SFMC, Furies Detachment

With:

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

Trem'Ore,
Jem'Hadar Child

A gentle breeze swept along the vast plains of wheat, making it look like a vast sea with rolling waves, reminding him of the waves gently lapping at the sandy beach near where he grew up on Betazed. It brought back memories for Jonas of the great times he had had in that house on the waterfront. Just him and his big sis. Oh and her boyfriend at the time. Fred was his name. Or was it Frank. Or Francis. Jonas sighed. It didn't matter what his name was. He had just been like all the others. Just out for some fun, not wanting anything resembling commitment.

He hadn't been able to figure out why his sister seemed to always attract that kind of guy. Sure, she was a beautiful woman, with the most amazing hazel eyes and long flowing auburn hair and she loved dancing, especially the foxtrot and waltz, but there had to be something else, something he had missed all those years ago. Something that drew those guys to her. Or something that repelled the nice, trustworthy guys. Even now, many years later he still didn't have a clue.

Not that it really mattered now. It had been some time since he had seen his sister last. Several years infact. Last time he had tried to contact her, he had been told that she had moved on. There was no forwarding address; no way to contact her. She wasn't here, of that he was fairly confident, so it was no use worrying about it, not when there were thousands of Jem'Hadar just a short distance away. Not to mention the Hydrans and Romulans. No, they were called Rihannsu now. Jonas doubted if he would ever get used to that name.

Steven ran his hand through the flowing wheat stalks, feeling the warmth and softness of the wheat as it brushed along his palm. It was strange to be standing in a field of wheat as far as the eye could see. Normal days lately were hours training with weapons in hand, or in the Gym keeping fit. Nothing like a giant field of wheat, nor a gentle breeze blowing past his face. It had been some time since he had felt this free and relaxed. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

Branwen was at the small command post they had set up. And the 3 squads of Marines had been deployed in the village in small groups to ensure the Navy boys and girls' safety. Having ensured the quick and successful deployment of the 3 squads, Steven was due back on the ship shortly to rest and prepare to lead the second rotation of Marines that was scheduled for deployment in several hours time. Yes, a little more of the country air would do him some good. You could only take so much of the artificial flavour of the air in the self contained ecosystem onboard the ship.

The twin suns shown brightly in the mostly cloudless day that had been bestowed unto this little settlement. Their hot rays warming up the last of the night's deposit of dew on the ground. It was becoming a very beautiful day.

A rush of footsteps assaulted his ears. Someone or something was heading towards Steven at a fast rate of knots. Jonas spun around, scanning the area with for trouble, his rifle already off of his shoulder and ready for use. And then he saw it. A small creature running through the wheat at full speed. A flurry of arms and legs.

"Mister... Mister. Don't Shoot." A voice called out. It was noticeable that the owner of the voice had been running for some time. "Please don't shoot. I is friend!" It was waving hands in the air in an attempt to dissuade the Human from shooting.

The creature slowed down as it reached Jonas, and he got is first good look at a Jem'hadar child. Unlike his previous interactions with the Jem'Hadar, the child's face showed very little of the same physiology as his warrior brothers, the standard scaly skin was only starting to show through and the cranial ridge was starting to develop and yet there was a hint of innocence to the Jem'Hadar child. It was the eyes, Steven realized, they looked so innocent, carefree and so far from the Prison Guards he had seen so much of earlier in his life.

There was no need to frighten the young child, so he lowered the rifle. "Hi!"

The child's breathing was strained and he could barely speak.

"Take a deep breath" Jonas said, glancing around to see if anyone else was nearby. "And another."

"I'm Trem'Ore. What's your name?" The young one said after finally being able to catch his breath.

"I'm Jonas." Jonas stifled a laugh. This was definitely not what he had been expecting. No far from it infact. Where was the warrior training that all Jem'Hadar received. Where was the discipline and ruthlessness that he had always associated with the Gamma Quadrant species. He saw none of it in the young one before him. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I need some help. My friend had an accident. I need you to come with me." Trem'Ore spoke in a hurried tone, making it hard for the Universal Translator to translate.

"Slow down and start from the beginning." Jonas said, laying a hand on the child's shoulder.

He nodded.

"Well, my friend and I like going off and exploring and we found this cave yesterday. My mom said not to go near it; said it was dangerous and we could get hurt. But today we went anyway..." He stopped when Jonas, a large smile playing across his face, nodded at that statement. Just like Terran children with their insatiable curiosity, and always getting into trouble. He had done it many times when he had been young, even with his sister's warnings.

"Go on."

"Well, we went into the mouth of the cave and started playing. Ma'u'Ral fell down a hole. I couldn't find a way to get him out and ran for help. Can you help Mister?"

There it was, the trigger. Getting a single Federation officer alone in a cave where his older mates could get the drop on him. Then again the child didn't look like he would have it in him to do something like that. It was a gamble, a big gamble due to his past dealings with the Jem'Hadar. One he was willing to take. With a little insurance that was.

"Sure. I just need to inform my commander where I'm going. How far away is the cave? And which direction?"

"Its that way," Trem'Ore pointed to the south east. "About a mile away on the side of that hill."

Steven tapped his combadge. =/\= Jonas to Lieutenant London =/\=

=/\= Go ahead Lieutenant =/\=

=/\= Ma'am, I'm at the Marine beam in point and have encountered a small Jem'Hadar child who says his friend fell down a hole in a cave. It is one click south east of my current position. =/\= Jonas replied.

=/\= Very well Jonas. Is that all? =/\=

=/\= No Ma'am. I could do with a little backup. I'm not sure how safe the Cave is Ma'am. =/\=

=/\= Certainly. I'll see who we have in the area to assist. London out. =/\=

Jonas looked at the child. "Lead the way."


(tbc. - This is the lead-in to the Group 3 (Iniara/Loret/Jonas/Krieghoff) storyline that is in the works.)

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