"Best I Can"

Characters:
2nd Lt Branwen London
XO Furies and staff psychologist

Pilot Paulo DiMillo
Some Position in Vanguard

Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

Private Amy VanDuren
Marine (Written by Stuart)

khre'Arrain (Lt Cmdr) Vaebn
Romulan Marine (Written by Stuart)

FSgt. Thral
Demolitions Specialist

2nd LT Greg Ward
SFMC Special Forces Lead, USS Galaxy

Private Michael J. Caboose
ARC/Heavy Weapons Expert, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

2nd LT Rayne Sutea
Marine NPC (Written by Cami)

Corporal Michael Laverius Tucker
ARC/Infantry, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

Lt. (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe - Engineer USS Galaxy

Dr. Tricks (Phoenix A Dass) - (Written by Dru)

Mystery NPC's (Written by Ian)

*** Cheron ***

Cora wasn't in a mood to argue. It came down to the simple fact she needed to be able to carry out her duties. When it was her turn Dobryin entered the tent. "So what's the good news and the bad news, Doc?"

Dass looked up and smiled, at least one of his patients had the right attitude. "Hop up on the camp bed and let me take a look at you and then we will find out." he replied picking up his tricorder, "So how have you been feeling, any sickness or diarrhea?"

"Honestly I've been feeling like crap, started out as having trouble concentrating then has moved on to a state of feeling very ill."

Dass nodded as he completed his scans, "Those are common side effects of radiation poisoning." he commented turning back to his make shift workbench. Loading up a hypo he turned back to her, "But don't worry I'll have you feeling better in a jiffy."

Moving to her side he brushed several loose strands of hair away from her shoulder to expose her neck and with a well practiced hand administered the anti rads, the gentle hiss from the hypo lingering in the air.

"I want you to get as much rest as possible, drink lots of fluids and take things easy. If you start to feel any worse I want you to come and see me immediately. Understood?"

She nodded in understanding, though it was obvious she held little interest in acknowledging or supplementing the line of questioning.

"Good." Dass replied with a smile, "You are free to continue with your duties, and I will be doing a walk around later, so make sure you are not straining yourself." he added with a wry smile.

***

Rayne also took her turn. Worried about the rest of them from what she'd seen so far. Not wanting to end up in a state that would make any more difficult to function. "Let's get this over with," she paused, "Please tell me there is some light at the end of this very dark tunnel?"

"Philosophically speaking," Dass began, gesturing to the camp bead where so many had sat before her, "I would have to say that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel, though that is subject to a belief in an after life."

Flicking open his tricorder for what felt like the millionth time today he began to scan her vitals, "In regards to a physical tunnel," he continued slowly as he read the readouts on the screen, "it would depend on its location and the rotation of the planet that it was situated on." he paused momentarily and rubbed the stubble on his chin, frowning at the screen, "And then we have the metaphoric tunnel, which always ends in sunny side up." he glanced up at her from the tricorder and winked.

"You know what I was asking," Rayne replied avoiding the urge to smile, "How Bad is our situation and..." however she never had a chance to answer properly as she felt incredibly sick. It had come on rather quickly.

As if on queue Dass produced a bowl and handed it to her. He didn't even blink as she promptly threw up into it. Turning from her he loaded a hypo and in-between gags swiftly administered it.

He waited a moment until she was in a position to listen to him. Sliding from the stool he kneeled before her, "Rayne," he began gently, "you are suffering from radiation sickness. Vomiting is one of the many side effects. I am going to sign you off duty for now. If your condition improves I will review that decision. But for now I want you to get some rest and drink plenty of fluids. If you feel any worse, you are to come to me directly. Do you understand?" he asked his voice low and serious, laced with compassion as he laid his hands over hers, shaking as they were, gripping the bowl with such ferocity that her knuckles were turning white.

If there were any words in response, they were lost in a bout of graphic nausea.

***

Dhanishta had lingered out towards the perimeter of the camp, hoping like so many others to escape the gaze of the doctor. She knew that she should go to him, that she should get checked out. Everyone was sick, she was not feeling great herself but, she was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if she were to step into that tent. What he would find out about her. Even out here it seemed, away from the dazzling lights and sterile equipment of a medical facility, the fear still chased her.

And still, she didn't understand why. What was she afraid of? She closed her eyes against the darkness of the night and forced the tears back. At some point in time she would have to address this. She knew that, she knew deep down in the depths of her subconscious was the answer to that question, along with the answer to so many others. What was it the Captain had said to her when she returned? That her medical records were incomplete, that her sister had mentioned when she fell into the coma that it wasn't the first time. was that the reason that she continuously fought against them? Felt a chill up her spine whenever they pulled out their tricorders, felt her mind leave her body as the sound washed over her taking her to places that she never wanted to be, showed her things that she never wanted to see, never wanted to remember? She jumped as a twig cracked beneath someone's foot behind her.

"The doctor is ready to see you now." A young man informed her.

Dhanishta stared at him for a moment, yet another person that she didn't know. He did not look well at all, unless of course his natural completion was pale white with a tinge of green round the edges.

"I think you need to see him more than I do." Dhani replied concerned for his wellbeing.

He smiled, though it was clear it was strained, "I already have been." he replied.

Dhani's eyes widened, "Well that's reassuring." she commented crossing the gap between them. She smiled as she passed him, briefly touching his arm as a mark of support.

She would have liked to linger in that spot a while longer, it was so quiet, gave one time to think and reflect, but she wouldn't hold up the line. She turned back to look out across the deserted landscape, one last longing look before she faced the doctor.

Sighing she turned away from that tranquil scene and felt her head tighten. All at once her vision began to tunnel, her knees wobbled beneath her.

~*~"Don't you want to make them pay?"~*~ She heard her own voice shout out across the stillness of the night.

~*~ "All they took from you; your family and friends. You could have had a wife and a family of your own, someone to love, someone to raise your children, someone to have your children. They took from you the ability to pro create? You may well be the last of your species. Don't you care?"~*~

Dhanishta felt herself tumbling to the ground as her legs turned to jelly. Bracing her fall with outstretched hands she closed her eyes tightly against the raging pain in her head.

~*~ Her eyes blazed as she watched them all, still the hatred grew inside her. She had to let it out, she needed to let it all out. They should all die for leaving her here for decades. Her fingers began to twitch with the growing anger, her skin prickled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. ~*~

A mirage appeared before her closed eyelids she relieved a memory long forgotten.

~*~ As they approached the bottom of the hill she let rip. In one swift movement she flicked her cloak away and pulled her rifle up, sending out a volley of phaser fire across the desert landscape. ~*~

Dhanishta felt her stomach turn, her guts wrench as she knelt on the wet ground. Her fingers clawed at the dirt as she gagged, choking on the air in-between. And then her mouth opened. As she vomited she could hear them screaming, feel her heart pound against her chest as she ran down that sandy hill, her make shift shoes flying off as she slid. Volley after volley she let rip, the phaser burst lighting up the sky, its sound lost, almost absorbed by the heat.

Dhani felt her arms begin to shake as her stomach contracted once more, spilling its contents out across the earth. Her eyes still shut tight against the pain in her head; she tried to move, wondering momentarily if she should; if she had finished throwing up!

But the decision to move was made for her as she felt someone pull her from the stench of vomit. Dhani tried to comply but felt herself growing rapidly weak and instead relinquished control of her body to another.

"I got you." came a voice from the darkness.

Dhanishta felt herself being rolled onto her back and the hair brushed from her face. Slowly she opened an eye, "Black and white, dark and light, two by two there watching you." she muttered before blacking out.

"Children of the Night"

Characters:
2nd Lt Branwen London
XO Furies and staff psychologist

Pilot Paulo DiMillo
Some Position in Vanguard

Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

Private Amy VanDuren
Marine (Written by Stuart)

khre'Arrain (Lt Cmdr) Vaebn
Romulan Marine (Written by Stuart)

FSgt. Thral
Demolitions Specialist

2nd LT Greg Ward
SFMC Special Forces Lead, USS Galaxy

Private Michael J. Caboose
ARC/Heavy Weapons Expert, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

2nd LT Rayne Sutea
Marine NPC (Written by Cami)

Corporal Michael Laverius Tucker
ARC/Infantry, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

Lt. (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe - Engineer USS Galaxy

Dr. Tricks (Phoenix A Dass) - (Written by Dru)

Mystery NPC's (Written by Ian)

***

Paulo walked in, being one of the last. "Let's get this over with," he said as he sat down.

Dass gritted his teeth, if he heard that line just one more time he would be joining the gun toting marines in experiencing the term 'trigger happy' firsthand. Taking a deep breath he ran a hand through his ragged hair, giving his head a good scratch, leaving his once well groomed main spiking up all over the place!

Turning to Paulo he smiled broadly at him, "Take a seat." he said simply. Reaching out he picked up the hypo spray. Not thinking he held up the device as he would a tricorder, after a few seconds of silence combined with a confused look from the officer he mumbled an apology and exchanged the hypo for a tricorder.

As he began to scan Paulo he took a moment to mentally ascertain his own state of health, ~I can wait~ he concluded rather too quickly as he began his well over rehearsed line of questioning, "Any vomiting, dizziness, lack of concentration, headaches..?"

Like Rayne beforehand, the answer was presented to him when Paulo wretched all over Dass' boots.

***

When the doctor came looking for Thral he simply glared right at the Trill.

"No, I'm fine. And you probably don't have the right drugs anyway. Leave me be."

By this point Dass was thoroughly pissed off with the Telerite, he had already sent three runners to fetch the man, and now he had to come out and get Thrall himself, holding up what had already been a long day, one which promised to stretch out well into the night. He was tired and feeling nauseous himself, and thoroughly agitated.

It was difficult to say the least to perform under these circumstances. On a starbase or a ship with the right facility, medical equipment and a full compliment of staff to spread the work load it would sill have been a marathon task to see this many people in such a short space of time. Add to that the stress of lack of resources, the knowledge that they were lost, without communications to base camp or the ship, with a team that were getting worse, without enough medicine to last them through the next 48 hours *and* the fact that he was alone, without any support or back up, *and* a patient that seemed to think he was impervious to harm, naive enough to believe that his doctor would be negligent in his preparation for the mission and not pack medicine catering to his allergies was simply. infuriating!

"Mr Thral," Dass said, leaving his bed side manor in the tent he had just left and adopting a much more aggressive tone, "You have two options. Option one is to come with me now so I can assess your state of health. And I suggest that you take a look around you, everyone is suffering with the effects of radiation poisoning, it is only a matter of time before you begin to feel the same if you have not already." he paused.

"Option two;" he continued folding his arms across his chest, "I sign you off duty and have you put under armed guard for disobeying a direct order, being a danger to yourself and those around you. Upon returning to the Galaxy you will be put into the brig and held up for dereliction of duty. That option would look very bad on your record Mr Thrall." he took a step closer to the man his arms now lingering at his side, "This mission is already compromised enough as it is." he said lowering his voice, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation to the numb-nuts before him, "I suggest that you think very hard about the strain that option would put onto your comrades here."

He paused for a moment, signaling for two marines to join them, giving Thrall some, all-be-it little, time to think.

"Nice try doc. I've had many a medic make that threat to me and I've ignored every one of them. You're more then welcome to scan me, but you ain't giving me any drugs without my say so. If you try to forcibly medicate me, mark my word I'll blow your little spotted hide half way back to Romulus. Am I clear?" Thral said firmly. He knew dang well the other marines wouldn't force their sarge' under the hypospray, particularly when he was grumpy.

Dass blinked at him, totally un-phased. "I have no intention of medicating you against your will Mr. Thral." Dass replied flatly, "It is however my duty to keep abreast of everyone's medical conditions, including yours. Now I can either scan you here, go through your medical history, here. Or, if you with for some privacy, we can retire to the tent where we can discuss your condition and possible treatments without causing a scene. Which is it to be Mr. Thral?"

"I said you're free to scan me doc, not talk about my medical history. You should already know what you need to know about that if you were doing your duty, which as I recall also includes respecting the wishes of your patients. If you want to scan me for the record, you're welcome to, but that's all you're getting from me unless you ask nicely."

Dass ignored Thral's last comment, sometimes he really wished he could swap places with some of his patients once in a while. It seemed as if half of them thought that they were doing *him* a favor. This really hammered home the point he had made in his thesis. Flipping out his recorder he scanned Thral where he stood.

"You are suffering with radiation poisoning." he concluded bluntly, no surprise there really. "Without proper medical treatment you will experience the following; sickness, dizziness, dehydration, headaches, fatigue. After prolonged exposure without treatment you will be susceptible to infections, you will become sterile, bleeding of the mouth can occur followed by the skin and internal organs."

He paused and stared at Thral for a moment, "Acute radiation poisoning has a

100% fatality after 7 days. An exposure that high leads to spontaneous symptoms after 5 to 30 minutes. After powerful fatigue and immediate nausea caused by direct activation of chemical receptors in the brain by the irradiation, there is a period of several days of comparative well-being, called the latent or "walking ghost" phase. After that, cell death in the gastric and intestinal tissue, causing massive diarrhea, intestinal bleeding and loss of water, leads to water-electrolyte imbalance. Death sets in with delirium and coma due to breakdown of circulation. Death is currently inevitable; the only treatment that can be offered is pain therapy. I wonder if in those circumstances you would let me treat you."

Dass smiled curtly and produced a hypo spray from his pocket. "This contains an alternative treatment from what the rest of the crew are taking, one that you are not allergic to. Take one dose every six hours, or don't. It's up to you." Dass said flatly tossing the hypo at Thral's feet before walking off back to his current habitat.

***

Branwen was lying outside next to a campfire. She was trying to get some hours of sleep. But not really succeeding. This was still one of the first missions she was leading remark and about everything you could imagine was going wrong. Due to the atmospheric disturbances there was no communication with the base camp for the ship. Navigational control on the vehicles was completely out as well, so they had no idea where they were. And people were getting sicker. So what the hell was she going to do in the morning?

Unable to rest she got up again and walked the camp seeing if anyone else was feeling the same way.

Thral saw the LT sitting by the fire failing miserably at an attempt to sleep. He knew that feeling well. His stomach had been calmed some by good ol' grannie Orug's special remedy which he had in a flask in his rucksack. However, he still wasn't well and was still doing a poor job of concealing it. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good.

The Tellarite plopped down by the fire and looked at her, almost telepathically knowing the problem. "Don't know what to do, do you?"

Branwen blinked. She was not used to subordinates talking this bluntly to her. "Excuse me?" she managed to get out.

"Ma'am, I've been a marine, well, all your life. I've seen that look in many an officers face over the years. We're lost on an alien planet, the team is mysteriously falling ill, we have no communication with base, and you're not sure what to do about it. As your First Sergeant it's my duty to try and help."

It made sense. It still didn't make her happy that she was this transparent, but Branwen was not above asking for help. "So do you have any suggestions, first Sergeant?"

"Several, mainly to try trusting...non technological means to solve this problem since technology appears to be failing us." Thral said as he pulled an old style map and compass from his pack as well as a blade the size of a human gladius which he used to hold the map to the ground. "Something you learn the hard way when you're a Ranger."

Branwen could have kicked herself for not thinking of something like that. There was so much on her mind that she was missing the little things. But that was the reason you had dedicated and experienced NCOs around. "Thank you, first Sergeant. Do you have any idea where we are?" she said looking at the map.

Thral had already marked where they thought they were best he could figure. "Here ma'am, I think. This terrain is pretty tricky to navigate even by older means, very few distinctive landmarks."

Branwen frowned, it didn't look good. "We will have to send out scouts in the morning. And rethink our plan. Safety before everything."

"Signal to Noise"

Characters:
2nd Lt Branwen London
XO Furies and staff psychologist

Pilot Paulo DiMillo
Some Position in Vanguard

Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

Private Amy VanDuren
Marine (Written by Stuart)

khre'Arrain (Lt Cmdr) Vaebn
Romulan Marine (Written by Stuart)

FSgt. Thral
Demolitions Specialist

2nd LT Greg Ward
SFMC Special Forces Lead, USS Galaxy

Private Michael J. Caboose
ARC/Heavy Weapons Expert, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

2nd LT Rayne Sutea
Marine NPC (Written by Cami)

Corporal Michael Laverius Tucker
ARC/Infantry, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

Lt. (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe - Engineer USS Galaxy

Dr. Tricks (Phoenix A Dass) - (Written by Dru)

Mystery NPC's (Written by Ian)

****

Dhanishta came too her head was still pounding slightly. She shifted uncomfortably, her neck sore from the position she was laying in. Sitting up she looked around her trying to establish where she was.

"Ahh, look what we have here." Dass remarked making his way across the tent. In the last few hours several members of the team had got worse. He now had a miniature triage set up. Three of the eight beds he had managed to assemble were now occupied. Thankfully the drugs he had given the other two were now beginning to work, although that just meant they were throwing up less and sleeping more. He had to admit he was relieved; working with the smell of puke lingering all around was certainly not pleasant.

Kneeling down in front of Eshe he reset his tricorder, briefly looking over the copy of her medicinal records on a padd. His well practiced smile lifted his tired features as he shuffled closer to her opening the tricorder.

"Do you mind?" Dhanishta asked flinching at the noise it made. "My head hurts." she explained.

Dass paused closing the device, "I am going to have to scan you." he informed her.

"Isn't there any other way?" Dhani pleaded rubbing her temple to highlight her discomfort.

Dass took a moment to think, this was unusual but he wasn't totally reliant on technology, "So you would prefer the old fashioned way?" he asked raising his eyebrows.

Dhanishta nodded, anything would be better than listening to that sound, or any sound for that matter.

"Very well." he said placing the tricorder down. He couldn't very well refuse that request, even though he was tempted given the time restrictions. But she was a patient in discomfort and it was his job to make her better. "Could you remove your jacket please?"

Dhanishta nodded slightly; shifting on the bed she unzipped her duty jacket. Shivering as the wind outside whipped up shaking the folds of the canvas.

"Any vomiting or dizziness?" Dass asked warming up a stethoscope on the palm of his hand.

Dhanishta shook her head, "No. I did feel sick though, and my head feels like someone is pushing from the inside out." she paused, "What the hell happened?" she asked frowning.

Dass simply smiled at her as he placed the metal disc on to her skin, "Breathe in for me please.. and out. very good." he encouraged as he continued with his examination. "You blacked out." he informed her picking up a torch to look in her ears, "One of the young marines brought you in. Do you remember?"

"No." Dhani replied her face scrunching up as she tried.

"He came out to get you. You were near the perimeter of the camp. He said that you threw up and then collapsed, before you blacked out you said something rather odd."

Dhani shrugged, "I don't remember sorry." she replied.

Dass nodded, "Do you remember being out there at all?"

Dhani simply shrugged.

Dass sighed quietly to himself, "How much have you had to drink today?" he asked as he moved around to look inside her other ear.

Dhanishta frowned as the doctor pulled slightly too hard on her ear lobe, "I er, I have had a couple of ration packs of water." she replied vaguely trying to remember.

"That all?" Dass inquired standing before her. Dhani nodded in response.

"Humm, open wide please." he instructed. Dhanishta obliged and opened her mouth.

"Say 'ahhh'."

"Ahhhhhhhhhh."

Again all Dass did was mumble a 'humm' as he pocketed the small torch. "Lie down for me please and lift up your shirt so I can check your stomach."

Dhanishta again did as she was told, lying down on the camp bed she smiled slightly, this was so much better than a bio bed. No strange noises or pulses making her head go fuzzy. Even though she flinched from the touch of his cold fingertips, still she smiled, glad that he was open enough and willing to throw technology aside in favor of what his patient requested. She looked up at his face and for a moment studied his features. His dark hair curled at the ends into small ringlets, barely noticeable normally, but without access to showers and hair products he was unable to groom himself. Though Dhani preferred this slightly more natural look, made him seem manly. "My mothers name is Dass." Dhani shared unexpectedly

Dass raised an eyebrow as he moved his hands around her stomach, "We could be related then." he offered standing up and pulling her shirt down slightly.

"Unlikely." Dhani replied sitting up, "My mother is a Betazoid." she explained, wondering why on earth she had shared that rather irrelevant piece of information. Maybe she was getting better at the small talk after all.

"Ah that would explain it then." Dass said sitting down on the empty bed behind him with what appeared to be a look or relief.

"Explains what?" Dhani asked putting on her jacket.

"Why your eyes are black." Dass replied smiling, "I knew it had to be something simple. And what is embarrassing is that I did read over your medical record before you came in, and yet failed to retain that information." he smiled softly, "It's been a long day." he tried to excuse himself.

Dhanishta frowned, "My eyes are green." she corrected him defiantly, "Dark green."

Dass sat back for a moment and studied her. After a while he shook his head, "Black." He concluded with a slight grin.

Dhanishta scowled at him as she zipped up her jacket. Taking a deep breath she forced a smile, "So, what's the verdict then?" she asked him.

"Well," Dass began steepling his fingers together, "you are dehydrated for a start. I want to check you out moor thoroughly when we get back to the Galaxy, there is some wheezing in your chest that I think is related to an old injury." He paused knowing full well that his next comment would not go down too well, "I would prefer that you stay here and get some rest."

Dhanishta raised an eyebrow, "And if I don't?" she asked.

"I won't stop you, but I want you to take things easy. Will you do that?"

Dhanishta nodded, "Sure thing."

****

Chitter-twirp! The sound of something metallic echoed as a snap, followed by an acknowledging short burst of chime.

"Three here," The being who had been laying prone on the hillock whispered into his communications device. "Go ahead."

[Three... All is ready on our signal. Has there been any change in our quarry's positions?]

"None. They approached on the vector as anticipated. They've lain down encampment not more than three hundred meters from my location. It looks like they've fallen to the radiation faster than expected." He raised the monocular to his eyes as he lay the communicator down in front of him. Having already activated the night vision on it, he was able to track the movements of the humanoids without difficulty.

[Excellent. We've confiscated the vehicles they'd abandoned. Some interesting technology to be found amongst them. Entirely too trusting these Starfleet types.]

"Or stupid. Things haven't changed much in the last century. Are you ready to implement phase one?"

[We've already encircled their camp. Just give the word.]

"Begin."

"Blitzkrieg"

Characters:
2nd Lt Branwen London
XO Furies and staff psychologist

Pilot Paulo DiMillo
Some Position in Vanguard

Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

Private Amy VanDuren
Marine (Written by Stuart)

khre'Arrain (Lt Cmdr) Vaebn
Romulan Marine (Written by Stuart)

FSgt. Thral
Demolitions Specialist

2nd LT Greg Ward
SFMC Special Forces Lead, USS Galaxy

Private Michael J. Caboose
ARC/Heavy Weapons Expert, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

2nd LT Rayne Sutea
Marine NPC (Written by Cami)

Corporal Michael Laverius Tucker
ARC/Infantry, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

Lt. (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe - Engineer USS Galaxy

Dr. Tricks (Phoenix A Dass) - (Written by Dru)

Mystery NPC's (Written by Ian)

****

Dhanishta walked out of the tent, the canvas folding behind her, fluttering slightly in her wake. Taking a deep breath to try and clear her head she looked around the starlight bathed camp. So far she had done pretty much nothing and felt quite guilty. She was an engineer, she should be doing something, she was not used to being idle. Seeing the campfire flickering she took a step towards it, hopefully someone would have something for her to busy herself with. As her foot connected with the ground once more, she felt a sudden rush all over her body; every nerve ending tingled, almost screamed. She felt her hair rising across her skin. It was almost as if someone had stunned her with a cattle prod. The shock of the sensation routed her to the spot, her eyes widened with a slight panic as she fought to breathe, her scream lost in her throat.

Suddenly a huge noise was heard around the camp. Branwen covered her ears. "What the...." she shouted but could not even hear herself speak. She ran towards the generators but was kicked off her feet by an invisible wall. Something was very wrong here. The lieutenant signaled to the technical guys to do something about it and fast!

Thral jumped as things started to short out. He realized what was going on and quickly pulled the demo pack off his rucksack and started tossing his grenades over the ridge. "Quick, everyone drop your weapons and get rid of your grenades. If the detonators overload, we're all dead."

"Do as he says." Her female voice didn't carry as well as the Sergeant's. "Get rid of anything that might be an explosion hazard."

Paulo didn't think twice and dropped his phaser. He had no idea what the hell was going on. All he knew was that he had finally gotten some shut eye and then there was a very loud noise. "What the hell is going on?" He asked as his phaser hit the ground.

"I don't know." Branwen had to say that too often lately. "Just help me make sure that everybody drops their weapons and other things that can explode. Especially those who are too sick to move." She threw a phaser from one of the terribly sick privates.

Paulo did what he was told and started going through and separating the weapons from the people. He could feel the uncertainty in even the marines. It was getting bad enough that it was starting to give him a headache... or was that the radiation? He didn't know, but right now he had a job to do.

He walked over to the Lt. "LT, we need to find out what is going on. I suggest a team of the least affected by the radiation and a few knives take a scouting trip on the outskirts of the camp."

Branwen hesitated. They had no modern weapons left, no communication devices, and more and more people were falling ill. "I don't like the idea of splitting up. We are very vulnerable right now. I think right now we need all able-bodied personnel to help set up some defense perimeter first."

***

The sensation passed, all-be-it too slowly for Dhanishta's liking, her body lurched forward with the leftover momentum from her previous trajectory and she found herself tumbling to the dirt. Wincing with the sudden rush of pain as her ankle almost did a 360 degree twist, she sat on the dirt rocking backwards and forwards, clutching at her swelling ankle, cursing everything and everyone in every language she knew!

"Are you alright?" she heard the doctor ask panting heavily behind her.

"Yeah." Dhani replied through gritted teeth.

"What's going on?" Dass questioned kneeling down beside her, tricorder in hand.

"I have no idea." Dhani replied turning to face him.

From the corner of her eye she saw it, "Shit, DUCK!" Dhani shouted throwing herself on the doctor as a burst of phaser fire lanced through the air. But it was too late. The blast hit Dhanishta in the centre of her back. She felt her body spasm, heard her own scream cut short as her vision darkened. Her body fell limply over the bewildered doctor.

*****

Vaebn's instincts took over as soon as he heard the commotion. They were being attacked. So his sighting had been real and not some figment of his imagination like the Lieutenant had said upon visiting her. Not that his "warning" would have done any good. It had only been a couple of minutes since he had seen her and these Federation types were always slow to react. His many years in the service had taught him that.

Vaebn pulled out his Disrupter and tossed it towards away. Pulling out his knife, he scanned the area around his location, looking for whoever was attacking them. The darkness, thanks to it being night and the generators grinding to a halt, hampered his vision and he made out the shape of someone too late to move his weapon into a position to strike.

The shape, a mass of raggedy clothes with a couple of arms and legs barreled into him, knocking him to the ground, his knife flying off into the darkness as they collided. The being, Vaebn wouldn't call it Human, Romulan or even Reman, for the dirt and mass of clothing not to mention the darkness prevented him from getting a good look at it, was now on top of him flailing at him with its dirt covered arms. Despite being scant inches from the being, he couldn't make him, her or it out. Flailing back, he managed to push the being off of his body, enabling him to change into a crouched position.

And just like that he was gone. Into the darkness. Like a thief in the night.

Breathing heavily from the sudden strain he had been under, he looked around. His vision lacking, he turned to his ears, listening to the sounds around him. Screams; Running feet; Scuffles; The occasional phaser fire... These were what he heard, and yet they did nothing to help determine who or what their assailants were. Deciding to take matters into his own hands he called out to the attackers.

"mnean mayri h'rau bilire. mnean aeilhh hwi dhat bolaes. vah-udt?" He called out in his native tongue. (OOC: Translation: - For those of you who can't speak Rihannsu - "We come in Peace. We mean you no harm. Who are you?")

He heard some slight changes in the sounds he was hearing but not enough to mean anything. Before he could try again, this time in the Klingon language - they didn't look Klingon, but stranger things had happened before - he saw, or rather heard, another being charging for him.

This time he managed to see his assailant before it attacked. It wasn't one of the beings but rather the private from before at the fireplace. She was being pursued by a couple of the beings. As she neared his position, probably headed that way due to his calling out at the assailants, he called out "Duck" before launching himself at the chasing duo, knocking them cleanly off their feet as Amy VanDuren dived under him.

They quickly rose to their feet and he valiantly faced them, despite the odds against him. Amy turned to help the Romulan but found her view of his fight blocked by a third attacker. Launching herself at him, she flailed away at him.

Trying to catch glimpses of the Romulan as she fought off the being showed a mixed fight. On the one hand he started off so well, taking it both his opponent's, but in a quick turn of events they gained the upper hand and in a double dose of punishment, one stabbed him with a makeshift knife, at least that's what it looked like to Amy, while the other smashed a rock on top of his head, sending him to the ground instantly with a sickening crunch as the rock connected.

She cried out in shock and lost her concentration, allowing the being to force her to the ground and hold her down.

She was helpless to watch as his eyes fluttered slightly and then stopped. A pool of green blood slowly spreading out from the area around the top of his skull.

And Vaebn slipped into the darkness, never to return.

****

"Keep the sentinels back, and move the second phase forward."

The one designated as Lookout Three still had his infra-red monoculars attuned to the campsite, he watched as their instruments failed one by one, and noticed with a touch of satisfaction and pleasure that they were even dismissing their explosive weapons as threatening.

He panned the range device back, capturing the movements of his forces as they clamored down the hillside into the basin where the off-worlders had trapped themselves into.

Phase two had begun in their blitzkrieg. He continued to watch as phaserfire lanced out from various positions.

Glancing behind and down at the transport, his partner had climbed out and beckoned him. 'Three' scrambled back down the slope and into the compartment the other had come out of.

Inside were several devices, a mish-mash thrown together of surveillance equipment. Federation Standard text crawled across the instrument of a sensor console, Reman symbols upon another. The compartment was jammed with a variety of units, which made it impossible for more than one person at a time in the rear section of the vehicle.

"Take the driver position, Yela, it's time to enter the fray."

As soon as he discerned Yela was on board, he twisted in the small section, sliding a switch on a board marked in Romulan glyphs.

Outside, a ripple effect began atop the vehicle, and shimmered downwards, until nothing remained but the sound of its thrumming engine, and then even that was gone.

All that remained were the tread marks as they rolled away from the previous location, the only marks of anything having passed.

"Bad Mojo - Part III"

LAAV 1:

CSMaj. Carl "Pops" Johnson (APC, Matt M.)
Team Leader/Special Ops Commando

Sgt. "Chuckles" Sorak
Forward Scout/Sniper

Cpl. Tokka "Razor" Razza
Heavy Gunner/Field Artilleryman

Pvt. Kelly "Skittles" Keinosayr
Field Technician/Network Specialist

Revik Aglukuck (SPC, Ian D.) Field Advisor, Reman Ascendancy

LAAV 2:

MSgt. Niklaas "Kick" Furji
Top Kick/Grenadier

Sgt. Nak "Clapper" Kapperstein
Radioman/AWACS

Cpl. Johnnie "Nitro" Capalino
Combat Engineer/Demolitions

Cpl. Khrystyne "Flatline" Carlyle
Field Medic/MedEvac Technician

PFC Memphis "Shade" Artus
Pathfinder/Tactical Commando

*****

Stardate 60460.01 (17 June 2383, 2142 hours local)

Unknown location, Cheron

"This stinks, man!"

Dammit, Furji thought. The ride out to Echo Sector--the next scouting area on their search grid--had been acceptably quiet, so far. Only the occasional interruption from either Carl (to give orders) or Nak (to relay such orders), had intruded on Kick's late night ride.

Riding shotgun in Light Armor All-terrain Vehicle 2, Furji spun around to eye Nitro, who was manning the pulse-phaser turret on the LAAV's rear platform. Briefly he looked back and forth between the two passengers in the "kids row" of back seats. Clapper, positioned in the left-rear seat behind Flatline, was busy with his AWACS monitor, scanning for any hostile readings. The Anuban, seated behind Furji in the right-rear position, was staring out the open-air door, hir naturally-enhanced night-vision scanning the passing surroundings. Though Furji wouldn't admit it out loud, Shade was kinda...spooky. It never spoke, even though it had an implanted vocoder to do so with. Kick had heard hir speak only once, during the hellish mission on DS5, six months ago. And what the Anuban had said--and had done--had scared the shit out of the leatherneck Bajoran. His thoughts were interrupted by a flash of motion from Carlyle.

"Hey Nitro...whoops! Too late!" To follow-up the shrill yell, Flatline yanked the LAAV's wheel to the left, shifting the turret-manner off balance. Hearing him curse was morally satisfying to the medic cum driver, and it covered up her low chuckle. She'd been feeling his eyes on her all night, and it needed to stop. Plus, he wasn't strapped into the safety harness, like he should have been. Grinning wildly, she geared-down and rolled over the landslide mess that had showed up after the sudden swerve. Sure, she could have avoided it earlier, but where was the fun in that?

"Sorry, Sarge," she smiled and turned to Furji. "Thought I saw a pothole. Hope those field rations decided to stay put."

The Bajoran Master Sergeant just chuckled and shook his head, secretly proud of Khrystyne for putting Nitro in his place. No one hated the guy--okay, maybe Tokka had mentioned something about using him as a feeding-run dummy--it's just that he was so, well...Nitro.

"Funny, Flat-face!" Capalino shot back while simultaneously pulling the gunner's harness around his back. Stupid bitch, he scowled at her silently as he swung the turret back around to face aft. Though, she's got a nice ass, he shrugged to himself. Too bad she wasn't interested. He could show her how to handle a real shift-stick. He could hear the cow chuckling at him, though. "Oh, shut it, Clapper!" Nitro snapped, staring back over his right shoulder at the Bovan radioman sitting behind Carlyle. It just stared back at him with those glassy jet-black eyes. Freaky.

"Nitro," Clapper responded in his slow, wet, basso rumble. "You're right; even I can smell you." The dry comment drew a chorus of chuckles from the LAAV's occupants--with the exception of Shade, of course--since it was well-known that Bovan's had very poorly-developed olfactory senses. Nitro, realizing that he was digging his own grave on the subject, focused instead on sweeping the receding surroundings for any contacts. I'm tellin' ya, it smells weird, man, he reiterated to himself.

Flatline ignored the Cuban, instead focusing on following the lead truck. Other than the occasional order from the Sarge, and Nitro's general greasiness, the trip through the makeshift trail was pretty uneventful. By now, they had left the comforts of the researcher's encampment on the divider between a coastal plain (with very little flora that had just began to recover from the holocaust that destroyed the world so long ago), and a rocky, almost impassable terrain. The encampment had set up moisture compensators to extract the humidity out of the air, or something like that. Khrystyne hadn't really paid attention to the science geeks--in trying to stay awake, and all. If the Rommie had, however, gone whacko and stripped his face off in chunks and strips...well, then that would have been interesting to watch. But alas, the young Human/Betazoid woman had sleep-faked her way through most of the briefing.

The Reman, though--Revik Agulbook...whatever--was kinda freaky, though. If it weren't for Razza stepping in earlier, she would probably be stiching Furji back together right now. Now, however, after traveling a few hours out of the encampment and away from the colonial population centers, the Reman had spoken very little since his sudden appearance. He had simply passed-off the order packet to Sergeant Major Johnson and then claimed the right-rear seat in back of the first LAAV. Thank the Goddess he's not in my LAAV, she thought. She had to admit it: the alien scared the shit out of her. Nitro just annoyed the fuck out of her. Big difference.

Up in the lead truck, Johnson shook his head as he listened over the open comlink. What in the name of Sweet Mother of Jesus did I do to get stuck with this bunch of rednecks, he asked himself. "Hey, Kick," he said, keying his mic, "you keepin' those two lovebirds separated? Wouldn't want Flatline to get all...twitterpated and drive your bumpy ass off a ridge, accidental-like!"

Swearing--it sounded like Carlyle's--issued from the other end of the radio, followed by Furji's reply, "Naw, Pops. They've kissed and made up. Nitro's playing with his gun now, and Flatline's being a good little driver."

Carl glanced back, catching a stare from Razor, who was manning their turret gun. The Basik clicked his tongue, and ruffled his crest in annoyance. Sorak, being Vulcan, did what all Vulcans did when something odd happened; he quirked one eyebrow high above the other, but otherwise remained silent. The Reman just stared straight ahead. Clearly, he seemed annoyed. Carl turned back around in his seat, sighing heavily. Well, bub, we didn't ask you to come along, either, Carl thought mentally.

The Reman, at first, paid no attention to the contrastingly darker-pigmented humanoid that stared back at him. Finallly, he spoke: "You and your subordinates lack discipline and regimen. Reman shocktroops would never submit themselves to duty in the manner your squad has evidenced themselves as. There is no doubt we have been confirmed as incoming."

Carl just smiled, his big beaver teeth mocking the sneering alien. Truthfully, he could care less what Ghosty in the backseat had to say. He sure as hell hadn’t asked for his "help".

With smooth transition, the Reman's , deep-set eyes transitioned across their sockets to settle on the Master Sergeant. Aglukuck's features did not alter in any sense of the word on what a typical humanoid would understand. His head and body bobbed and swayed with the others as the mobile continued to trundle its way in fits and spurts over the landscape. "They are loud, unfocused on their objectives, and ignorant of the terrain they are passing through. I do not expect to survive this encounter. The forces we Remans and the Romulans have been subjected to over the last four-point-six monthly cycles excel at subterfuge. You bumble and announce yourselves with the skil-lset of untrained recruits. You underestimate the enemy and they will defeat you with relative ease."

"Look, Revik," Johnson snarled, leaning across his seat and thrusting his dark, flat face into the Reman’s angular features, "I sure as hell didn’t ask you to join us. And if there’s something you know that you haven’t told us about, then you are just as dead as we are, and that’s your fault, Ghosty. Now, I don’t give a flyin’ fuck who you work for, but if you’re going to ride with our outfit, then you better as well get used to the fact that I’m in command on this little field trip, and you are to report any motha’ fuckin’ intel you got to me. Got me, mutha-fucka?" Carl tugged hard on his cap, emphasizing the point before turning back around. Truthfully, he didn’t give a damned if Ghosty had anything to say about it.

Skittles, meanwhile, tried to ignore the drama unfolding beside her. Driving by sensors primarily, the terrain they were covering was, for the most part, unused. Earlier in the Cheron yearly cycle, the Romulans and Remans had sent out surveying parties into the rocky plain--which to Kelly was eerily reminiscent of older holovids of early Martian exploration, except much more violent in presentation. Once, there had been long, low flatlands, but now rocks and cliff-sides had crumbled and been spread about as if entire mountains had been eradicated in huge blasts. Navigating through the obstacle course was not as difficult as Skittles had first thought, since the previous explorations had left trail markers behind. It only bothered her where no trail markers were present. She just assumed they'd burned out or been damaged by the natural elements on the planet.

At least there was a cool breeze whipping through the open-air vehicle. With no chance of a sandstorm suddenly appearing in the mostly boulder-strewn landscape, and the climate conditions an unsavory warm, the wind on her bare skin was soothing.

Back in the second LAAV, Nak spoke up. "Master Sergeant, I think I have something here."

Kick turned around again, facing the cow-like Bovan. "What've ya got, Clapper?"

Kapperstein’s brow scrunched together in the dim light of his LCARS field panel. He began to speak, then paused, clearly perplexed by the reading his scanning machine was giving him.

"Flatline," Kick turned to Khrystyne, "stop the truck." Keying his mic, "Pops, Clapper's got something on the AWACS, it looks like these damned rocks are screwin' with the sensors again, so we're gonna stop and have a look." They'd been getting strange ghost-like readings all night, but Nak had attributed it to the exotic metallic ores that composed the surrounding rock formations. Up ahead, Kick could see that LAAV 1 was braking, as well. "Roger, Kick," Johnson’s voice spoke over the commlink. "We're gonna stay and keep you company. Have Clapper feed it to us."

"Roger, Boss." Kick looked at Nak again, who nodded once in understanding. Johnson had requested that the team be fed the data through the Cortical Neural Interface devices implanted in each Marines frontal lobe, thus connecting them as a single unit. Flipping a switch, he sent the sensor stream to the rest of the team.

Up in LAAV 1, Aglukuck had decided to ignore the human commander’s outburst, and instead remain focused and silent on the task at hand, while utilizing the better night-vision inherent to his species. Scanning the cliff-side to the south, his senses were on high alert.

Just before the vehicles halted though, the Reman felt what could only be described as a mild buzzing on the edge of his senses. He'd already become accustomed to the psychic imprint given off by the immediate party--especially the Vulcan--so this sensory tickle was new. It continually shifted from strong to weak, without any recognizable pattern.

Without the benefit of an integrated interface between the others, someone had activated a holographic interface between the jump-seats, allowing him to view a 3D interpretation of an assembled sensor net of data combined from the collective feeds on both vehicles, and enhanced by the visual cues from the Marines as well.

It concerned him somewhat, though, that he bright colors of the interface would offer any agitators an available target, so he absorbed the information as it stood and then discontinued the hologram.

Leaning forward, Aglukuck lowered his voice to a whisper. "Your sensors are interpreting ghosts and trace residuals upon the cliff-face southward and the landscape to the north. We have encountered such problems during reconnaissance of this region previously. Technology does not offer any confirmation. This is why the reports have not included the observations I described to you earlier. I suggest we disembark the vehicles and proceed on foot. It is no longer safe to proceed with and depend on technology; it is no longer reliable. I recommend disengaging all electronics and destroy their power sources."

Carl switched off the data-feed from his TEDD, and stared incredulously at the Reman. Disengage all electronics? Destroy their power sources?! Who in the name of Sam Hell did this guy think he was. Carl’s mind raced with possibilities, all of them dire. Was this a trap, of some kind. Get them all alone out in the Cheron wilderness, then abduct them? Carl frowned...that didn’t make sense. If they had wanted to kidnap the Furies, they had more than ample time--with more man- and gun-power--back at the basecamp.

Staring at the Reman, Carl opened his mouth to speak, but then caught himself. Immediately, the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck literally stood up, as if someone...something had just reached out and touched him, unbeknownst to his regular senses. Quickly, he reactivated his TEDD, while spinning around in his seat to face forward. Before any action could be taken, however, every panel on the dashboards lit up in a varied array of bright light and warning sounds. At exactly the same moment, the Reman clamped both of his hands against the sides of his head and crushed his eyes closed, with only a single sound escaping his lips as he keeled over, unconscious.

Back in LAAV 2, Furji yelped slightly as every indicator lit up, then shorted out in a shower of sparks. Flatline swore loudly, too, as the LAAV’s plasma-electric motivator suddenly died.

"Shut it down! Shut everything down!" Kick yelled, adding, "Take cover!"

At his order, everyone bailed out, and headed for the nearby hill for cover. Looking back, Furji saw that Carl and the rest of LAAV 1’s occupants were doing the same, with Chuckles carrying the seemingly-incapacitated Reman. Shit! Kick exclaimed to himself, then tried opening a StealthCom window to Carl in his TEDD.

No luck...the whole system was offline, probably shorted out by whatever had caused the LAAV’s equipment to go haywire. Luckily, the CNIs had built-in shielding and safety measures, to prevent just such a thing from damaging the brain it was attached to. Even if the complete interface burnt out--which it seemed to have done--the user was, thankfully, not able to be harmed.

Just then, a hand quietly--yet forcefully--tapped him on his right shoulder. Reacting instinctively, he reached back and grabbed it, stopping short when he felt the leathery hide of a Bovan. It was Clapper, silently accounting for himself, per protocol. Kick turned around, his Type IIIa compression rifle slung across his belly.

Around him, the other team members each put a hand toward him, accounting for themselves in the pitch blackness. Clapper, that was one already. Next, he saw Flatline’s hand, followed by Capalino. He waited a moment, expecting Shade’s long, three-fingered hand next...

Nothing.

"Where the fuck is Shade!" he hissed as quietly as he could.

"Dunno, boss," Nitro offered, pointing back over the hill. "Maybe with Pops and the other?"

"Shit," the Bajoran swore. All he knew was that they had just been attacked by...something--an EMP, perhaps--and one of his men was unaccounted for. Motioning silently, he held two finger to his eyes, then pointed to Carlyle and Capalino. Both nodded and then began belly-crawling back up the embankment. Next, Kick pointed to Nak, then made a circling motion with his other hand. Nak nodded once in understanding.

Moving out, Kick peeked his head above, searching for any signs of the rest of Johnson’s team, or for the missing Anuban. As his eyes cleared the top of the embankment, he blinked hard...twice. Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked again, then noticed Nak staring at him. What? the Bovan mouthed silently to him.

Furji shook his head...for a moment--and maybe he was getting crazy--but he could have sworn he some sort of...creatures hovering in mid-air next to the ruined LAAVs.

"S**t Timing"

Primary Characters:

Lt Ella Grey Assistant
Chief of Engineering

Lt (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
engineering officer

Lt Jiiles
engineering officer

*** USS Galaxy ***

They couldn't have picked a worse time to call for O'Shea, Ella Grey thought as she set herself in position in front of Bomb #3, the bomb that she had nick-named Boom-Boom to try and lend some humor to the situation.

It was a bad time to call away Anna not only because Engineering was in a middle of a crisis (which they couldn't tell Starfleet about in case the Romulans were monitoring their transmissions) but if the woman was being sent away for an indefinite period of time it meant that Ella was going to have to play at chief again.

So much for preparing O'Shea, Ella thought with a sigh. But she'd have to deal with all that later. "Position one?"

Nara knelt before the open panel, craning her neck and reaching her hands in. She had stuck a mini-torch on a side within the panel. This one was in a place that was a little difficult to get to, and dark. She imagined the clone cackling and rubbing her hands at the evilness of placing it in such a place in case anyone was smart enough to find it. "How she got this in here..."

Her muttering was interrupted by Ella's call. "I have a feeling this thing will be easier to disarm than get to, but so far, so good." She was able to reach enough to do her work, but it would be tiring on her arms and a strain on her eyes.

"Position two?"

Jiiles mopped up a runaway bead of sweat with the back of his hand as he stared at the abomination before him. ~What a way to die ~ he mulled as he stepped up to the device and began to study it.

"I'm in position ma'am." Jiiles replied over the com as his eyes widened, "Boogie in sight. Awaiting instructions, position two out." he said in a calm voice, a total opposite from how he was feeling on the inside.

"Affirmative." Ella replied. "Devices do not appear to be connected to each other. Disarm at leisure."

Ah, the fun of speaking like a grown-up, Ella thought wryly.

It was Ella's first real bomb disarmament, the Academy simulations not included. She suddenly wished that she had spent more time in that class instead of showing off for Red Squadron. Luckily, they had been able to evacuate some of the people off of the ship for various reasons (helping for the funeral, medical research, guarded with guns shopping) but the Galaxy still had enough people remaining to blow up should she, Jiiles, or Nara fail.

~At leisure? ~ Jiiles questioned, ~This is supposed to be therapeutic?~ "Understood ma'am."

Wiping the sweat off the tip of his nose, scratching an itch on the top of his bald head he took a step forward, hesitating he pulled back. There was so much at stake here. One wrong move and he would lose everything, the lights would go out and that would be it. He would be dead, his friends would be dead. The ship would be in very small pieces.

"What a way to go." He said once more out loud as if the silence would put up a good conversation.

"Honor and Glory." Ella's voice deadpanned over the comm.

Total nothing would devour him if he screwed up now. But he still ran that risk if he did nothing. This bomb was on a clock and he was a Starfleet officer, this was his job; to put his life on the line for the ideals of the Federation and the safety and freedom of its citizens. He took deep breath, this wouldn't be the first time that he had taken that risk, ~Let's just hope its not my last time either.~

Rolling up his sleeves he stepped forward once more, but this time it was with drive commitment and determination.

"Leisure?" Nara muttered again. "Yea, ok." She reached up again and felt around where the bomb was attached to the wall. "I bet it's explosive putty." She sighed as she began trying to get the bomb disarmed as fast and as safely as she could.

After several minutes, her shoulders and neck were growing sore from getting to and seeing the bomb set in it's 'cave.' "Leisure my ass," she muttered before becoming so intent that even when she did mutter, she didn't realize it.

"I'd rather you take it slowly than rush it, Nara." Ella's voice said.

Sighing, Nara replied, "Yes, ma'am. Taking it slow and easy." Though the slow meant her arms and neck were in the uncomfortable position longer, but she'd dealt with worse. She wouldn't let herself be a wimp about this.

"So," Ella said after a few minutes of radio silence while they all were tinkering with their respective death traps. "How about them Dodgers?"

"Eh, layin in the sinkers?" She had no idea what she said. It just came out of her mouth unbidden. Nara shook her head a moment after realizing what she said.

"I have. no idea. what you two birds are talking about." Jiiles replied slowly eyeing up 'his' bomb. "But I would very much prefer some tits and ass right about now." He said trying not to laugh as he moved his hands into the fray, for all he knew this bomb could be touch sensitive. "It's been a long time," Jiiles continued, being far more forward than he ever had in his life, "and if I am gonna die, I'd like to do so with the image of something that would make me smile."

He shuffled closer to the bomb continuously aware of the time restrictions, "So if you two could just pretend to be lesbians for about 20 minutes or so, improvise some; that would be just grand." he said as he contorted himself into a rather undignified position as he strained to get a better look at the control mechanisms of the bomb.

Nara couldn't help but laugh, "Well, don't tell Saul. I'm sure he'd be jealous if I lended such a treat to anyone else before him."

Ella gestured for another officer to hand her a tool before adding that Rex would probably feel the same.

Then she took a deep breath. "Hold on a sec."

They all held their breath as Ella snipped a wire.

"It's done." Ella said. "Disarmed. I'm just going to go puke now."

"If that's your idea of lesbian chat up lines Lieutenant Grey, I am greatly disappointed." Jiiles responded over the com. It had taken him some time, and yoga skills, to get into a position to actually see what he was working on. And now that he could see he wished that he couldn't. He wished that he had never joined Starfleet, never heard of the Federation, and was on Risa with ten Horga'hn statues surrounding him!

"I .er, I got a problem!" Jiiles finally said after a moment, "Anyone else wanna play 'anywhere else but here'?" he added.

"Enola Gay"

Present:

Ensign Artim, Security officer

Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer / Expedition leader

Past :

Commander Regina Mulrave, Executive Officer, Challenger (by Michael)

Lieutenant Commander Audris Schneider, Intelligence liaison (by Oded)

2ndLt Theirry Tremblay (by Michael)

**********Present**********

Artim strode along with the others, but when his Tricorder picked up unusual readings from a compartment marked "Restricted" he just had to investigate.

His was halfway scanning it when his commbadge came to life.

*Bental to Artim *

"Yes Lieutennant", Artim responded lazily

*I need you on the bridge in full protective suit and climbing gear, as fast as you can.*

"Understood, Artim out"

~Great, they got some creepy shaft they want me to go down~, Artim thought to himself as he put his pack down and began to pull the rest of his rad suit out of his pack.

********* 2160 *********

A new day dawned on the starship Challenger.

Though night and day did not exist in space, Raj Kalidas felt early morning goosbumps on his skin. The light was still dimmed as the night shift hadn't officially ended yet, but already the Indian engineer's imagination conjured the first rays of sunlight.

Oh, Sol was so far away this early morning. Its light, if it could be seen, travelled many years to this point of space.

He began ascending the small service stairs on deck 2, leading to the upper waste recycling system. The joke at engineering said that if the Challenger's upper hull was hit, shit is REALLY going to hit the fan. The short Indian engineer snickered at the joke.

He didn't notice that behind him, one of the shadows cast by the dim illumination parted from the wall, and began to follow him.

Raj reached the door that shouldn't have been there, tapped his code, let the scanner scan his retina and sample DNA from his finger. Eventually, the sophisticated security system let him through, and he heavily strode into the Delilah module.

The doors closed behind his newely acquired shadow.

"Guten Morgen Raj."

The engineer's heart tried to escape his body through his throat. He spun sharply on his heels, stumbling. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

"I was never told NOT to enter this module, Raj.", Audris Schneider said, her calm totally opposite of the engineer's anxiety. "In fact, I wasn't told of this module at all."

When Audris leaned over Gianna Crestine's desk, she noticed a schematic display of the Challenger. As its intelligence officer, she knew the ship's silluhette by heart, and could draw it out of memory. When she saw a tiny buldge just above deck 1 which shouldn't have been there, she connected the dots. And now, she was standing inside Delilah, or in Delilah's compartment, or--

"You're g-- going down, Commander. The security cameras..."

"I spy with my little eye three standard security cameras and one volume sensor. All wouldn't pick me up standing so close to the door."

The Indian now visibly shivered. "You're... you're a Romulan, aren't you? A Romulan spy?"

"I wish. That way I would know how Romulans look like."

Audris raised her head, observing the sterile-white walls of the module. It reminded her of hospitals. Clean, spartan, and with the stench of death about them. "Now that I'm here, let me ask you a few questions."

"Actually Audris, I'll be asking the questions" , Regina Mulrave said firmly as she strode through the door. She was here to supervise Raj as he performed a maintenance check, part of regulations. Regulations also required an escort of at least 4 MACO troopers, all who now had their weapons trained on the Intel officer.

"Lieutennant Tremblay, have two of your men secure the exits, we'll deal with the commander."

"Aye mam." Theiry said as he signaled to the others who promptly took up positions.

"I'm glad I finally got your attention.", Audris responded. She slowly turned around to face the executive officer of the Challenger, and found herself standing mere centimeters from the woman. "So, I'm curious - how comes the ship's intelligence liaison isn't notified of an external module attached to the ship?"

"And why would someone who is usually all about telling us what we need to know and where we can't go enter an area that she knows she's not supposed to be in, hmm? Tell me Audris, can't you accept that there's secrets from you?"

"Ah, but that's exactly the point, Commander. I had no way of knowing. No one commanded me NOT to enter."

This was a very untypical thing for the straight-forward Audris to say, but snooping around meddling with things above her clearance wasn't something she did often, either. In fact one could say that today was the most untypical day in Audris Schneider's life.

"Of course", She continued, undaunted, "seeing the security measures which Raj took in order to enter this module should've raised a red flag, on retroperspective, but I suppose I'm too naive. May I speak freely?"

"Yes, you can freely explain why I shouldn't throw you out the nearest airlock, or did someone command you not to tell us about the minefield on Galordon Core!", Theiry blurted out, having lost a close friend on that particular mission.

"Easy Lieutenant" Regina said placing a hand on his shoulder before glaring right back at Audris, "He does have a good point though, why shouldn't I let Theiry toss you out the Airlock?"

"Because that's how the Romulans solve their problems, not us.", Audris suggested. Of course, she had no idea if the Romulans tossed traitors out of airlocks, but right now people were willing to believe anything about the faceless enemies.

"Let's put the cards on the table.", She continued, ignoring the gun pointed at her by the Lieutenant. "So there's a classified project only a handful of the people on this ship are aware of. Usually, that would be fine by me. As an intelligence officer, I'm used to seeing only a small view of the whole picture. It's only reasonable. What is NOT reasonable is that you and the Captain constantly fight over it, and that the overall attitude toward this project is like it is a conspiracy. Already, some of the people involved began to crack.", She gestured at Raj, which was huddled by a small white door leading to the inner section of the module.

Both Regina and Theiry stood hands on their hips glaring at the intel officer as if waiting for her to say something worth responding to.

"This leads me to two possible conclusions, Commander. One of them is that this is some sort of elaborate betrayal plan. In that case, I won't be leaving this room anyway. As for the other... I think HE should know. I think we all should know, by now. I think the crew of the Enola Gay knew what they were carrying, on their way to Japan."

"Noone needs know what we carry, noone is to know what we carry, not even you. Yes, the captain doesn't like the idea that we may have to use this, but we're at war and sometimes extraordinary times require extraordinary weapons. As for you Audris, I could legally shoot you now since we're at war and you've committed a potential act of sabotage, but I'm not going to do that. However, I'm not going to give you the chance to spread your views amongst the crew. Lieutenant Tremblay, restrain the commander and take her to the brig. She is to have no visitors without clearance from myself or the captain, understood?"

"Yes mam" The Frenchman responded excited, "Commander, if you'd so kindly kneel and place your hands on your head, I wouldn't want to have to...hurt you."

"That's all right, Lieutenant.", Audris said softly as she kneeled. Her fingers fluttered on her belt momentarily before interlacing on her head. "Your country didn't hurt anything major since Napoleon's era."

"And you all couldn't get to the World Cup final in your own country...oh wait...you lost to FRANCE" Theirry said with glee as he signaled for the other MACO to search her .

"Remember, Commander.", Audris continued, as the restraints are applied, "The eyes of all our allies and friends are upon us. If we use our... 'power' unecessarily, they'll view us as no better than the savages we were two centuries ago."

In the corner, Raj finally found his voice. "You aren't going to do anything to her... right? It's my fault, I should've been more careful."

"Its not your fault Raj" Regina chimed in as the now restrained Audris was brought to her feet. "The crime is hers. Justice will be done and that is that. Besides, our so called freinds aren't here and our enemies will fear us. We can't depend on aliens forever"

{{OOC: Note - this post contains vital main-plot information}}

"Loose Cannon"

Ensign Artim, Security officer

Lieutenant Saul Bental, Chief Tactical Officer / Expedition leader

**********Present**********

The bridge was crowded by expedition members when Artim pulled himself up the shaft. He was approached by a man wearing a Romulan anti-radiation suit, and when the man got close enough he recognized him as Saul Bental.

"I'll spare you the pleasantries.", The Tactical chief got straight to the point. "It seems that the Challenger was carrying an unrecorded external module, above the bridge and to the rear. We need someone to get in and investigate. I want you to go in, because of your scientific knowledge and experience in hostile environment, and--"

There was no way to soften it. Saul sighed inwardly. Artim IS going to hate his guts. "We can't expand the entry hall with conventional means without risk, so we need someone who can get through."

"Yeah yeah, call the kid to go down the creepy shaft. I got it. Might want to lay off the pastry so you can do this next time" , Artim said as he sealed his suit and hooked up the climbing harness. Once he was ready, he began to go up the shaft into the module

As soon as he vanished out of sight, Chava brought her helmet close to Saul's activating a private channel automatically.

"You're letting him feed you shit, Shaul."

Saul patted her shoulder mindlessly, not considering the multiple layers of protective gear between them. "He just got ordered by someone four centuries younger than him to crawl through a hole. Anyone would vent."

"Wha-- that's what you did to me when we broke into the Gauda gallery back home, didn't you??"

Saul smirked. "Ssshhh, the others don't know that we were naughty children."

Meanwhile, Artim moved into the room, and his suspicions were confirmed.

"No way...no way there were Thalaron weapons on board." Artim said as he kept scanning. An Earth ship would never deploy such a horrible weapon, would they? There was nothing in the historical records about one ever being used. Actually history never recorded one being used ever amongst the major power.

"Artim to Bental" Artim said as he tapped his badge "You best get up here we got a potential problem here"

Back on the bridge, Saul bit his lower lip. Easier said than done.

"Bental to Artim. What's the situation?"

Artim went over to one of the control consoles to confirm his suspicions. Damn he hated being right.

"I'm picking up traces of Thalaron radiation here, there appeared to have been some sort of Thalaron weapon here. However, they're...gone, and they weren't taken that long ago. Control unit shows signs of recent use, like within a month based on the level of dust."

* A month? *, He could hear the Dutchman gasping.

"Tops" Artim added

*Shite. Confirm that no weapons were left, gather as much data as you can, and get out of there.*

"Acknowledged" , Artim said as he hooked up his tricorder to download as much data from the module's computer as he looked at the actual weapons module. As he feared there were holes for 12 weapons and one look down the barrels showed that all but possibly one were removed by a means other then firing. The twelfth tube wasn't conclusive as to how that weapon left... which worried Artim even more.

Once the data download was completed, Artim slid back down the shaft and handed his tricorder to Saul.

"Visual inspection showed that there were 12 missiles in the module and that at least 11 were removed by a means other then firing. 12th is inconclusive. My estimation is that each warhead could kill between 20 and 50 million."

* Roger. *

Artim hastily finished his scan, verifying that no weapons remained in the sterile-white chamber. Once he was done, he squeezed back into the narrow entry shaft, and returned to the bridge where drama unfolded.

"Search them for weapons or transponders."

Saul and several other officers had their phaser rifles aimed at the Romulan driver and Reman guide, while two of them – Running Tree and Eytan – did as Saul ordered.

The Reman seemed to take it with stoic calm, whereas the Romulan was furious.

"… do you think you are doing?! We shall execute you to the last when you get back to camp! Need I mention that you are stranded on this planet without a Starfleet vessel in the vicinity??"

"We were lied to.", Saul said icily, not loosening his grip. "You said that no one explored this ship prior to this expedition."

"And no one did!", The Romulan protested, then swiveled toward the Reman. "If anyone did, it's THEM. And now those savages posses weapons of mass destruction! Surely they're mobilizing right now, intent to irradiate our peaceful research camp! Collaboration, they said. You can't collaborate with a beast."

The Reman opened his mouth to speak, for the first time since Saul sent Artim to the Delilah compartment.

"No Reman has entered this forsaken vessel before today."

"That's enough.", Saul interjected. "Everyone, we'll head back to camp now, on the double. Do NOT mention the weapons on the comm., in case whoever took them is listening. Once we're back, we'll inform Tarin, then find out exactly who think Thalaron weapons are fair game."

The group began to assemble their equipment, and the two non-Federation aliens found themselves escorted back to the hovercraft at gunpoint. It's amazing how people worked efficiently when they were under a threat from one of the least sympathetic weapons introduced to the Milky Way galaxy.

Soon, the hovercraft outside the Challenger woke up to life, and started the journey back toward the encampment at full speed, leaving the husk of the dead ship behind.

“Bedside Matters”

By Commander James Lionel Corgan And Mika Sh'Sonora

James had to admit, Romulus had a beautiful springtime.

Romulus in the spring was like an ancient medieval town, overgrown by the forests and the greenery, but tended meticulously like an archaic druid's grove, or an old earth orchid. Romulan cities tried their best to blend nature with civilization, interspersing groves, parks, grasslands and meadows with the buildings of gray stone that loomed over it. Every building had a fortress like feel to it, the architecture decorated with slits, glassed windows, fake battlements and parapets that had a smooth, modern feel yet hearkened back to days past. Even the cafe where James waited for hours, perfecting his thoughts as well as his letters, was grey synthetic stone with flanking Romulan imperial statues that dated back to the late republic period of one thousand five hundred years ago, marble warriors with pikes and shields and very stern faces. His table was stone, also grey. His seat was stone, but had padding that proved itself surprisingly comfortable.

The streets and roads of Romulus rarely had pavement, except where foot traffic was at it's heaviest where even regenerative landscaping equipment couldn't keep back the trampling of grass into hard packed dirt. He was told by the waiter that there was no need for pavement since shuttles and hover conveyance was commonly used.

The openness that Romulans prized in their urban settings did have a cost. James learned with difficulty that transporters were too essential, as was fast shuttles and hovercarts. Romulus had the most nightmarish urban sprawl he had ever seen, and it was rare to find a large space that wasn't used for food cultivation on the entire planet.

It was still nice though. Lacked colour, but nice. James felt laid back on Romulus, even though his stomach objected to the gravity and the locals gave him looks ranging from curiosity to outright hatred. Such was life as a human, Romulus' favorite scapegoat until the late 2370's. Such were his recent troubles that a little racism and upset stomach couldn't compare, and were therefore ignored.

Such a green planet. So much different than space, his real home. It was a good change for awhile.

If the looks he had from Romulans were strong before, they were outright blatant by the time Mika came back from the local shopping centre. As an Andorian, an enemy for a longer period of time than the entire history of Human/Romulan encounters and physiologically a lot more different than the Human/Romulan comparison, Mika stuck out more and was noticed (thereby glared at) more than James. Her bundles of shopping bags helped to keep her stuck out in the crowd.

When Human and Andorian meet together, and gave each other a quick kiss...

...The nearby Romulans either ignored them, or were too shocked by the display of interspecies integration that was frown upon on their planet.

James and Mika didn't care.

Most certainly James. He was too busy drinking in the sight of his beloved in a new outfit. She being the fashionable of the two, had on a Romulan style dress that was in the planet's favorite colours... gray and green. It was a calf length grey skirt that flowed with her movements, looked thick enough to be warm but didn't bother the ice planet born Mika, and with the gray sleeveless blouse with subtle shades of gray and silver showing as she moved, with jade veins that were almost invisible, Corgan could only think of how dresses were out of fashion among humans as casual wear since the 20th century. Still, the dress did look nice and she wore it with joy. It was a double pronged attack of novelty and exuberance that played well to his weaknesses.

“So...” Mika coyly asked, the last few days of her sour mood a memory, “...how did the visit go?”

Mika knew James was on Romulus for business. A favour for a friend, an illegitimate child and a state funeral were enough to keep anyone busy. The fact that she kept a smile even thought the thought of James former girlfriend were enough to cause world ravaging ragnarok grade rages in her usually placid exterior was a blessing.

“Not bad.” James stayed as neutral as he could.

Mika looked at him curiously. Her smile vanished.”Not bad? That is all?”

James replied, “I did what I came to do, and no one got hurt. Vic's happy. Atole's happy, Nuhir's happy... as far as babies go I suppose, and I'm happy I'm back with you as soon as possible.”

“Oh good!” Mika squealed, delivering James a solid hug that, combined with the shopping bags, had enough love and affection to crush duranium bulwarks. She let go, bags dropping around him, wordlessly expecting James to take his unfair share of the load. He did take it, though his shoulders would regret the decision in a few hour's time if he didn't rest soon. Her shopping was heavy, yet he only took half the load. It baffled him how a woman slightly over five feet with high heels could carry as much as his six foot frame could handle.

He was just happy to have her company after a busy afternoon. His thoughts came back to the meeting with Atole Tekri, the tension between the two, the heart tugging joy of seeing his baby daughter...

...the time where he could feel Tekri's warm breath on his neck, and the memories of what she was like when they made love.

James banished the torrid thoughts. They were an uncomfortable distraction.

He said as apologetically as he would confessing the thoughts from a moment ago, “I would say more, but you know... eyes everywhere.”

“I know.” Mika kissed him on the cheek, “I too am aware of security. I was a member of the Federation Diplomatic Corp. Even though this is now a friendly planet, I still do not have the feeling that we are welcome. There will always be eyes.”

“Oh... I don't know about that.” James said, “I remember from my pre-World War Three history that there were two rival nations on my planet, the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Social Republics. They nearly had a nuclear war multiple times. When the USSR did dissolve in the late 20th century, there was a period of unrest, but it did eventually open to the rest of the world. It was a decade or three that it was still a place that was not easy for foreigners to live, but eventual world economic integration led to it becoming one of the founding nations of the Unified Earth Government, which in turn led to the Federation, and so on and so forth. Romulus will come around. They'll see that the Federation isn't so bad and who knows... maybe they'll ally with us like we do with the Klingons, or like we did during the war. I can see it happening.”

Mika said whistfully, “Humans and your optimism.”

“That and a total lack of survival instinct. It's how we get far.” James quipped.

Mika giggled like sunshine. Any thoughts of Atole eclipsed whenever Mika laughed or showed any happiness. Gloom parted whenever she was happy, and got thicker whenever she was sad. James fed on her emotions, needed them more. It was something he could never do with Atole.

James didn't regret his decision to leave Atole anymore. What he had was better than anything.

“Hey Meeks.” James asked her politely, “It's getting close to evening and the Galaxy won't be back for awhile.” Even with the baggage, James felt lighthearted (and lightheaded!). “Why don't we find a place to stay on this planet? I know a hotel in the capital that is supposed to be extra accommodating to off worlders. What do you say?” He finished, his thoughts were more than just a place to stay for the night.

Mika was his love, and until recently he was neglecting her too much, taking for granted what she offered while caught up in his own world of work and worries. She deserved more from him, James knew, more than he could give. But would she see past obvious utility in his suggestion and accept what he really wanted to offer (and should have offered) months ago?

He was nervous of trying. Nervous of failing. Nervous of her saying no.

Mika paused, “Hmmmm... I accept your offer. Show me the way.” She said, no indication of knowing or seeing what was going on.

That uncertainty was tearing at James (as if he wasn't insecure enough!). Her enigmatic response clawed at him all though the hovertaxi ride to the hotel. Buried in bags, he hadn't been able to get much closer to her than being arm in arm.

“What is wrong?” Mika asked James in the middle of the ride, hinting at worry.

“Nothing.” James reassured her with a skittish smile.

The taxi dropped off the alien couple to a hotel on the outskirts of the capital, a locale known for being more 'Romulan' than usual, with older walls and designs, larger patches of green grassland and wooded areas, and a crystal blue river that ran though the hotel's properties. The rush of water gurgled in the background as dusk birds chirruped their songs. On top of a valley rise, the hotel had a beautiful view of the capital city, its lights beginning to pull stars from the sky and bring them down to Romulan soil.

They checked into their room five minutes later. Exhausted from carrying the bags up flights of stairs (this time he had them all, seemingly lined with latinum bricks), he dropped the bags on the floor, at the foot of the bed. The tiring ordeal didn't leave him enough time to think about what he had done.

Mika went to the balcony to admire the view of the capital. James was still at the bed, dumbfounded as to what to do next.

This was the first time he and Mika had ever been alone together for an extended period time.

Tonight, if they did share the room, was the first time they had been alone for an entire night.

It was the first time they were ever alone for a potentially long time.

The thought occurred to him that it would be the first night they ever...

“What took us so long?” James asked to himself quietly.

“Huh?” Mika squeaked, sidetracked and totally derailed, her face looking severely ambushed.

James said, sitting exhaustedly on the foot of the bed, “You know, what took us so long? Here we are, in a hotel room together. I know it seems presumptuous, but... you know... what took us so long?”

Mika returned from the balcony, a serious look that didn't ponder but already knew what to say. “I wanted to ask you the same question. I thought it was you, dear James. We took so long because you waited, and those months I did not know why. Then I thought it was... ghosts. I felt... neglected.”

“Ghosts?” James questioned.

“Ghosts.” Mika's antennae swayed slowly, almost immobile, her eyes downcast and her lips trembling, “Atole is a ghost. Your secrets are ghosts. Your duties are ghosts. Even your nightmares are ghosts. They all haunt you James. You think I cannot tell? I know you have so many ghosts, and for those months I wanted to know them as I wanted to know you, dear James. They kept you away from me, you kept yourself away from me, and all I wanted to do was get closer to you. But you waited, did not confront your ghosts. So I wait. I was patient until this week.”

James responded as if under confession. Mika knew more about him than he suspected. All the time he knew her, James underestimated her ability to judge others and empathize. His assumptions about keeping his secrets were no longer assumptions but lies. Mika was too smart not to know, “I didn't think you knew about my troubles. The busy schedule's obvious, but how did you know about nightmares?”

“You do not sleep well.” Mika sighed, “You have fatigue in your eyes. You always talk about the missions and jobs you have done on the Galaxy, and nothing from before. You avoid it with me. You try to shield me from it. You tell me of Electra Reece but not Atole Tekri. You do not talk about your friends but you tell me of rivals.”

She stammered in mid sentence, a gateway between tears and hiccups, “You... my dear... have so much guilt. Over Atole. Over me. Over everything. Why will you not let me know about it?”

“I...” James didn't know what to say, but one thing, “...I didn't want to make you upset.”

She shone James a smile that fought past grief. “James... we talked about this before. I am not fragile. I can take it. But you... I worry so much for you. You cannot take all your grief alone. You are strong and brave, but you cannot stay that way forever if you stay alone. James...”

Her arms coiled around his neck. Even with James sitting down, she was barely taller than he. Her forehead pressed against his, her antennae stroking themselves into his locks of blonde hair.

The discomfort of being so personal emotionally was waivered by a warmth in his chest and the jackhammer thuds of his chest. She was now seating herself on his lap, her legs around his back, her eyes half closed and dreamy. She was so close that he couldn't help but feel aroused.

“Meeks...” James gasped softly, “I put you though so much bullsh*t. I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you.”

“Shhh.” Mika pressed a finger to his lips, “You promised to be more open with me. My brave man, I will not let those ghosts stop tonight.”

She slid her finger off his lips to interpose her own on his. What hands weren't enclosed on each other were intertwined together in a vice grip. Mika and James kiss became more urgent, until there was no stopping what was going to happen.

Mika sank into the bed, James following, locked together.

The Romulan dusk settled into night. The stars were pulled from the sky and settled on Romulan Soil.

The night brought its symphony of nocturnal creatures crying, chirping and yipping their calls.

The sun set. The day ended.

Mika and James missed it all.

********

“I waited way too long.” James thought, his mind back to his memo.

He was putting the finishing touch on a couple of his letters, to be delivered tomorrow. Mika, nude under the sheets and sleeping contently, had an arm and her head resting on his lap. His uniform and her clothes were all over the hotel room. Haste didn't facilitate neatness.

James couldn't half believe what had happened, and regretted it having to end. He enjoyed Mika's liveliness, her enthusiasm, her energy that kept it self so bundled up and controlled, let loose and combined with James eagerness and attentiveness. What kept them waiting actually helped, going without for so long left them both hungry for each other.

It had been so long, and never so personal, that James could say with authority that he had nothing like this before than he had with his darling Mika. And as further reward, he had his love curled up to him, her warmth buoying his spirits, satisfied in the afterglow, content to know that she looked content in her sleep.

“...And with that in mind, I hereby write to you a recommendation for entrance into Starfleet Academy, to be opened on the day of your 18th birthday. My love goes out to you always. Commander James Lionel Corgan, USS Galaxy.” He finished, saving the letter and setting the PADD on the nightstand.

Mika stirred, sleepily dragging her arm off his body. She gave him a lazy half smile. In her afterglow, her turquoise skin glistened in the scant light the stars gave, her silhouetted body unabashedly petite yet generous in curvature. Her coarse white hair, cut short at shoulder length and wavy, brushed against his exposed skin.

She was the most beautiful woman this way. He loved not just her body, but the fact that she was so content.

“I thought you had tattoos.” Mika sleepily mumbled.

James said, “That? Most of them faded when I was exposed to vacuum during the Defiant mission. As for the rest... numerous wound regenerations, but the last straw was when I was captured by the Hydrans. Their suspension fluid gave me an allergic reaction. I had a skin rash. Finally, the doctors just did an entire dermal resurfacing on my skin. Felt good, actually. Don't need the tattoos anymore.”

“I didn't like the tattoos.” Mika admitted, “What are you doing?” She asked sweetly.

James stroked her hair lovingly, “Making a birthday present for Nuhir. I know it's early and i'll have to revise it over the years, but I thought it might be appropriate that I get it done before we get back to the ship.”

Mika murmured, “I heard you talking about something else too. It was sadder.”

“Oh... I'm sorry baby.” James crooned apologetically, “Did I keep you awake with that?”

“Oh... no.” Mika buried her head into his arms, “But I was curious. Was it another letter?”

“That?” James blushed, “It was. It was for the family of Mr. Savar. It was... an apology for my role in what... happened to him.”

“Tell me.” Mika yawned, “I want to know.”

“Well.” James at first shied away, but remembered his promise, “It was... when Atole and I were first together.” He waited for the recoil of Mika's disgust with anything involving his former lover, or at least a punch to the ribs or a pinch to his nipple. But when it didn't come, James felt relieved. “I have done some questionable things, but that was the first time I was so close to betraying my Federation... and for a woman. I look at that, and I think... how f**king stupid I was then. I compromised so much of my ethics and endangered my oath as a Starfleet officer for her.”

“You must have loved her.” Mika said.

“It wasn't what I'd call an ideal love.” James confessed, “I did love Atole for a time, but it wasn't good. What brought us together was lust and danger, and that is not a good foundation for a relationship. I would have ended up betraying my ship and my mates, and losing her later. We wanted each other too much, and once that is past, then what? There would be nothing. We would have fought, I would have damned her for making me betray my ship for a sexual relationship, and I would have nothing.”

Mika frowned. She got out of the bed, totally nude in the starlight. James loved to look at her, how she turned slightly paler around her midriff, how she had a shock of white hair below, how her nipples were a dark navy shade, how her face and antennae showed happiness and sadness in a range James was incapable of. “So, what does this have to do with Savar?” She asked.

James responded, “Without Savar telling me what I told you, I would have never known until it was too late, so you can say that without him, there would be no us. And still I failed him... I could have prevented what happened to him if I realized sooner what he told me. And I never had the chance to let my pride go and say he was right.”

Mika said, “Then I am happy thanks to Savar. I wish he knew how thankful I am.”

“Yeah...” James shifted in his bed, shucking off the sheets to let the night air cool his skin, “...he was an arrogant prick, but a smarter man than I was. All I can say is sorry to his family. Maybe it will set that ghost aside.”

“Maybe.” Mika said, on her way to the bathroom. She activated the lights and set the sonic shower. He could see her in the light now, saw how much paler she looked in it, loved how her alien features gave her an fairylike quality. Mika, his love, who others thought was far from perfect, with her fragility and wounded spirit, was better than anything.

Better than Rebecca, smart and analytical, but lacking any humanity.

Better than Lexa, brilliant and inviting, though skittish and scared.

Better than Atole, who's cunning and youth was trumped by her naivety.

Mika was better than anything.

Mika glanced back at James, “But I am glad to have you anyways. Will you be ready for another when I am done with the sonic shower?”

James shrugged, “I'm ready now."

“James!” Mika piped over the din of a starting sonic shower, “If you do not stop I will not have the will to restrain myself by continuing to be coy!”

“Oh yeah...” James teased, “Maybe I should cut the pretense and come in there with you!”

“No!” Mika delightedly squealed, “I smell sweaty!”

“Ah good.” James jested, “Then we're on equal footing. I'm coming for you...”

"Furious Angels"

Characters:
2nd Lt Branwen London
XO Furies and staff psychologist

Pilot Paulo DiMillo
Some Position in Vanguard

Cora Dobryin
Chief Intelligence Officer

Private Amy VanDuren
Marine (Written by Stuart)

khre'Arrain (Lt Cmdr) Vaebn
Romulan Marine (Written by Stuart)

FSgt. Thral
Demolitions Specialist

2nd LT Greg Ward
SFMC Special Forces Lead, USS Galaxy

Private Michael J. Caboose
ARC/Heavy Weapons Expert, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

2nd LT Rayne Sutea
Marine NPC (Written by Cami)

Corporal Michael Laverius Tucker
ARC/Infantry, USS Galaxy
--ONPC (Written by Wil)

Lt. (Jg) Dhanishta Eshe - Engineer USS Galaxy

Dr. Tricks (Phoenix A Dass) - (Written by Dru)

Mystery NPC's (Written by Ian)

*** Cheron ***

Thral had done this so many times that he could have been sleeping and then been in battle a moment later.  There was only one problem; he didn't have a phaser that worked right now.  That's why he brought the blade, which he promptly grabbed up and stormed at the oncoming adversaries.  With phasers they might have had a chance here, but even to the special forces hardened, used to being outnumbered, Thral, he realized that this was a losing battle. Didn't mean he couldn't try and take a couple of these...whatever they were down with him.

The Tellarite swung the weapon at the chest of the first enemy target he came to.  It ended up going a bit higher and ended up in the being's throat. Thral quickly removed the blade, now covered in crimson blood.  So it wasn't the Romulans or Klingons, well that's a start.  Another swing connected with a stomach of another whatever, but he didn't go down and that earned Thral a rifle butt to the head.  Thral hit the dirt with a thud, dazed but not knocked out.  Before he could try and stand there was a hard boot on his chest and two weapons in his face.  Another had kicked away his blade. Great, it seemed he was to be a captive.

***

Paulo really had no idea what was going on.  One second he was sleeping, the next explosions, then after that things started attacking.  It was like ones worst nightmare.  To top it off, his phaser was useless and he had little hand-to-hand combat.  He was practically useless right now, so instead he decided to go hide and keep out of the way of the marines.

But, apparently his hiding spot wasn't the best.  He felt the butt of a weapon at the back of his head, then the cold dirt on his face as he fell forward.

***

Branwen did her best in the dark.  She was fully trained in hand-to-hand and normally was quite good at it, yet lack of sleep, nervous and increasing weakness slowed her down.  She was shouting orders, trying to organize her people into a defense position.  But before she could establish it completely she was knocked down from behind and was unconscious before she hit the ground.

So much for a decent night's sleep, Cora was helping defend the camp the best she could. Grateful for her martial arts training though wishing she had more real training in unarmed combat. Quickly looking over in Rayne's direction, the marine tech was holding her own quite well.

***

Ward and the ARCs that were not suffering from the effects of what ever was making them sick looked around after dropping their standard issue weapons and quickly drew their combat knives which didn't require any kind of power sources.

"Allllllright!!! TIME TO GO OLD SCHOOL!!!" shouted Tucker as he drew both of his knives. Tucker, a long time student of blade styles of four worlds, looked more than ready for a long and blood fight.

"Just don't do anything stupid Tucker." Ward growled as he looked around the camp and heard the sounds of combat. Greg turned to Caboose and said in a calm and even voice that sent a chill down Tucker's back because it meant it was time to get serious. "Raven, ensure safety of group commander." to which the Hoffmanite simply nodded and headed towards where London was at a dead run.

"Snake, I do believe that we're in for a serious fight." Tucker said, his mind clicking over to "serious mode" if you will as he stood to the back and left of the older marine with both of his knives at the ready.

"I know Mantis, I know. Focus though, because if these people want a fight then by the prophets will give them one." Greg said as he could make out a couple of forms charging towards the two of them.

***

Pushing Eshe from atop him Dass called out to anyone that could hear him. In the last five minutes alone the decibel had risen.  Just moments before the camp had been calm, tranquil, filled with groggy people suffering in a proud silence.  Now, as the wind whipped up, so did the sound of phasers and other energy based weapons, the clash of mettle against flesh echoed through the stillness off the dark sky above as thunderous footsteps vibrated the dry earth.

“LIEUTENANT.” Dass screamed out once more, minding to duck dodge and weave as the bolts split the landscape, singeing the ground by his feet.  Dragging Eshe to the safest spot he could find, he began to asses her.

“ANYONE!” Dass pleaded against the commotion, trying to keep look out as he scanned the lifeless woman before him.  He felt a slight chill as a shadow loomed over him from behind.  ~There not Starfleet standard issue army boots!~ was the last thing that went through his mind as he glanced over his shoulder at the ground behind him.

***  

Amy sat there crying. She didn't know why she was. He was a Romulan for goodness sake. A damned Romulan. Though he had tried to save her life. And had paid the price.   And the bastards had left him lying there near the edge of the encampment.   Having been herded towards the center of what was left of their camp, she sat along with the majority of the Marines and awaited whatever was next.   The sun was starting to rise, the blackness of the sky was starting to turn a lighter shade of black as the sun prepared to crest the hill. In the dim light, Amy could make out a little more of her captors. Though their faces were covered in shawls or makeshift wraps, she could make out what looked like human features to the closest. She couldn't be sure, but straining as she was, they definitely looked human. But how could that be? The Romulans had said that no one had been here for a long long time.   Spying Private Waldron sitting by the LT, she tried to get the woman's attention. Finally managing to do so, she passed on a message for the LT using Sign Language. "I think they are human."   When Grace nodded back in acknowledgement. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees.

"Aren't you getting tired of this, yet?"

The brawny arm across Keldan's neck was cutting off his windpipe, so he couldn't immediately respond. Grabbing the restricting arm, Keldan managed to pull it off his neck far enough to utter a colorful, albeit brief, summation of his feelings on the matter. Apparently whoever it was didn't like his smartass remark because the grip suddenly tightened even more.

He wasn't exactly sure what was going on. The last thing he remembered was blacking out after the transporter sequence had ended. The memory of the pain in his chest and limbs sent a shiver up his spine. Now he was in a dark room that could have been anything from a symphony hall or a prison cell and someone had immobilized him from behind and was trying to choke him to death. If he didn't do something soon, the next time he fell unconscious he might not wake up again.

"I don't want to hurt you, I just want you to hear me out."

Keldan grabbed at the restricting again arm with his free hand, prying it just loose enough to reply. "Why should I?" When there was no immediate reply, Keldan remained wondering what his attacker planned on doing, and he calmed himself to mentally regroup. It came as no small shock, however, when the arm choking him relaxed.

Since Keldan didn't particularly take kindly to being jumped from behind, he chose not to miss what might be his only chance at a reprisal. He spun in place, slamming his head into his opponent's face with an exceedingly pleasant crunch. As his opponent reeled, he strong-armed his left palm directly into his attacker's chest to give him a little distance. The poor light in the room kept his right roundhouse invisible until it connected solidly with his opponent's head. But the man recovered more quickly than Keldan anticipated, managing to grab onto the sleeve of his uniform and dragging him down to the floor as he fell backward from the force of the blow.

Keldan landed on top of his opponent, and he wasted no time in pressing his advantage. He grabbed his attacker by the shoulders and held him to the ground, even as the man's legs squirmed helplessly on the floor.

"Going to kill me, Keldan? Now that would be a pretty stupid thing to do, don't you think?"

The calm voice hinted of some hidden mirth and Keldan had to force himself to be calm. Now that he could hear the voice clearly, there was something eerily familiar about it. Grabbing at the fabric of his clothes, he pulled the man back up so that one of the few shafts of light penetrating the room's darkness would fall across his face. There was no way he could have been prepared for what he saw.

"Surprise."

Keldan stared at the man before him. At first, he thought he was looking at his deceased father. The hair and ears were right, and there was just about the same amount of grey in his beard as he remembered the last time he'd seen him; just before he'd been killed. But that had been years ago; his father would certainly look much older by now. But then, in a rather stark moment of enlightenment, he realized the truth. He was looking at himself, albeit a slightly older version of himself.

"Sweet Gods," Keldan uttered and released his older self. There was a soft thunk as the man's head hit the floor again.

"Thanks. Now, would you mind getting the hell off me? We've got a lot to discuss and precious little time left if any of us are to be saved."

"Timestorm - Part 6"

Ensign Keldan, Operations Officer

- - - - -

The overhead lights began flickering, and Keldan recognized the area as one of the Galaxy's transporter rooms. It had seen better days. One of the programming access conduits looked like it had exploded recently, and the operations console was nowhere to be seen...only a mangled pile of debris that had been pushed into a corner.

Keldan offered his older self a hand in getting up off the floor, and stared as he walked out of the transporter chamber.

Sensing that he wasn't being followed, the older man turned back. "Coming?"

"What happened to McDowell? What did you do with him? I saw the other transporter beam, but he isn't here. Is he dead?"

Older Keldan paused for a second, looking thoughtful. "Unfortunately, transporting you here has severely drained our power supplies. There was no way to materialize Mr. McDowell simultaneously with you; life support is already failing on this deck. However, his transporter pattern was shunted to a makeshift console on Deck 12. We'll rematerialize him as soon as we get main power up to full strength again. Now, come. I'll start explaining what you need to know on the way to Operations."

Keldan moved to join the older man, who walked briskly out of the transporter room and took an immediate left turn.

"This *is* the Galaxy, is it not? I take it Operations has been moved from it's previous location, otherwise we would have turned right."

"You catch on fast. Operations was totally destroyed about two years ago during an attack by two Decerix class warbirds."

"The Federation is at war with the Romulans?"

"Not exactly. I think the Romulans would consider it 'housekeeping.' We call it 'survival.'"

Keldan blanched.

"The stardate is 51608.23. At least we think it is. Our main computer has been damaged several times and there are no Federation marker buoys left in the beta quadrant with which to synchronize. In any event, you are now about ten years from where you were just a few minutes ago. I wish I could say that the future is a kinder, happier place."

He didn't need to say anything at all. They walked through charred corridors lined with rubble and blown conduits. He couldn't be certain, but at one point he was fairly certain they passed the scorched remains of an engineering officer.

"There are very few Federation ships left. The last we saw was the Dennison, and that was over three months ago. I think the only reason we've survived this long is we managed to salvage and modify a cloaking device off a destroyed Romulan cruiser. The Romulans have been looking for us for weeks; it has actually been quite entertaining watching them stumble over each other trying to find us."

"And where are we located, exactly?"

"We are currently deep in Romulan space, about two light years from ch'Rihan. We are by no means safe, but it was necessary in order to execute this operation."

"And what is that operation, exactly?"

"A good question, and precisely the reason why you are here." They turned the corner and approached what must be the new Operations center of the ship. While it still looked as though a bomb had gone off in it, it was the first place aboard this Galaxy where there were other people working. Up until that point the ship had had all the warm presence of a tomb. Keldan looked at some of the battle-hardened faces, not recognizing any of them. But he did note a couple of Klingons and at least one Cardassian before they vanished out of sight, tending to their duties.

Keldan was led to the back to what looked like a makeshift office. Being ordered to sit, he looked up at his older self, noticing the pips at his neck. "Commander?"

The older Keldan smiled. "Yeah, well don't get too exited about it, Mr. Ambition. Becoming Commander was mostly by process of elimination. Now shut up and listen. I'm about to break about a dozen Federation regulations, but seeing how there isn't anyone left to court martial me and send me to prison for it, it doesn't really matter, now does it? Besides, there are worse things. In any event, I'd like to have your full, undivided attention."

"Timestorm - Part 7"

Ensign Keldan, Operations Officer
with Commander Keldan, Chief of Operations

- - - - -

Keldan sat down on the computer console, addressing his younger self.

"In two days from the time that we beamed you away from your Galaxy, a major crisis is going to develop on Romulus. A high member of the Romulan-Vulcan reunification movement by the name of T'Vek is going to address a full session of the Romulan Senate. In addition, several esteemed diplomats, including Ambassador Spock, will be in attendance. We have no information about the motive for T'Vek's actions, but he will wind up taking all those in attendance hostage for several days, with threats that he will detonate an anti-matter explosive device that he presumably managed to smuggle into the Senate chambers."

"We are not sure what happened next. We think a Romulan strike team sent in to nullify the situation prompted T'Vek to detonate the device. The entire city of Ki Baratan was incinerated. It made the massacre of the Senate by Shinzon a few years earlier look like a poorly executed dress rehearsal in mediocrity."

"But it gets better. A few days later, it is discovered T'Vek wasn't actually Romulan at all. He was an undercover Vulcan operative sent in to steer Ambassador Spock's negotiations toward a more militaristic accord. Whatever the actual truth was we may never know. What we do know is that there were immediate calls to arms to extract retribution on those responsible...and in the eyes of most Romulans, that was the Federation and more specifically, Vulcan. The Romulans have long had revenge as one of their primary motivators. They went from a destitute people wracked by political upheaval to a battle hungry shark in a space of time the Federation Council vastly underestimated."

"So why not just send a team back to before the incident and stop it?"

"Two reasons, actually. The first is that individuals from our time cannot exist in yours because of the method of transport used. We are using a phase discriminator in tandem with a subspace transporter. The generated chronoton field can warp an individual, an object, or a transmission through both time and space. But for some reason, the subspace inverter has marked living matter native to our timeframe with a specific chronometric pattern. The pattern won't hold its cohesion when we try to beam it into the past. We lost Chief Engineer Grey while trying to get the transporter operational. We found it was necessary to bring someone from your timeframe forward and then send them back. We did successfully beam Commander McDowell about a year into the future and managed to retrieve him with no ill effects. But what he saw wasn't pretty."

Keldan let this information sink in. "You said there were two reasons."

"Yes, I did. Computer, connect this terminal to the main viewer."

Keldan didn't understand what he was seeing at first. It looked like a twin planetary system which he guessed must have been Romulus and Remus. Each planet was rimmed in a nimbus of red energy which looked suspiciously like fire. Massive electrical discharges seemed to be spreading out from the pair in wild, frenzied arcs.

"What is that?"

"It's a timestorm." He shook his head at Keldan's inquisitive look. "I don't know. It doesn't coincide with any time-travel phenomena on record. But it started after the first time we used the chrono-transporter and has continued to expand since then. Science thinks that it is a result of our tampering with the timeline. Our scans indicate that the area inside the red nimbus is in a state of extreme chronometric flux. History is being re-written. Violently, it would seem."

As if in response to his words, the red glow intensified in brightness, much like a nova. There was sudden flash of sparks as the display overloaded and went dark.

"What happened?"

The weathered features of the older Keldan creased. "Hard to say for certain, but I'd say I just signed the death warrants of everyone aboard this ship, not to mention half the Milky Way. By telling you what I just told you, you now know what will happen if you use the chronometric teleporter, and obviously you're smart enough not to make the same mistake should it come to that. All the events of the last ten years and every single thing that those events affected are being unwoven and will be destroyed. But *your* timeline still has a chance." The elder Keldan got up. "Do not worry. This is what those of us left agreed upon. Burton, Dallas, McDowell, Corran, and myself. The vote was unanimous. We knew this would be the likely outcome if we continued to use the device, but we knew the sacrifice would be worth it." He let those words sit for a moment, knowing it was a lot for the younger Talarian to take in. "I know this is a lot, but we don't have much time. In about five minutes I expect what is left of the Galaxy will be ripped apart by the timestorm shockwave. We have to get you back to your own time before then."

"How far back in the timeline can you send us?" Keldan worried at the thought that two days might not be enough time to find Ambassador Spock or stop the conference, especially without any outside help.

The older Keldan shook his head. "The connection we have created between this time and yours is tenuous. To attempt an earlier point of entry would mean breaking our current link and the risk of losing it. We are out of time and we cannot take the chance."

Keldan rose, following his counterpart out the door, his thoughts becoming a bit muddled. "What is it exactly you need us to do?"

"Stop the Senatorial address. Find Ambassador Spock and tell him of T'Vek's treachery. Save Ki Baratan. We have coordinates on Romulus that we believe were still being used by the unification movement, but that is all. The rest will be up to you."

Silence reigned as the pair made their way back to the transporter room. Even the warning klaxons of the red alert were silent. When they reached the transporter room, Keldan was not surprised to see McDowell standing on the teleport pad. An older version of McDowell stood back, ready to operate the controls. Keldan gave his younger counterpart a look that plainly said "do you believe this?"

The older Keldan scratched at his collar a moment, considering the pair now standing on the transporter pads. "We have enough power left to transport both of you. But there is something you must have, first. Here." The older Keldan fished a small item out of his pocket, handing it to his younger self. "Take this. It was given to Captain Henderson during the evacuation of Vulcan by Perrin, the widow of Ambassador Sarek and stepmother of Ambassador Spock, as a token of thanks. If you find Spock, give it to him. He will recognize it as his father's and it will give you leverage in helping him see the truth, however illogical it may seem." He pressed something small into Keldan's hand and moved back off the transporter pad.

"Good luck, to both of you."

"A Night at the Opera"

Captain Vergh, IKS Darchak
Mervaan, Reman NPC
Ensign Robert Mathieson, Phd.

Starfleet Mobile Hospital, Planet Cheron

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

Paperwork, it was said, was the oil that kept the mighty Starfleet machine working. It tracked and allocated the vast resources required to operate a fleet that served hundreds of species over thousands of worlds, and allowed for the exploration of thousands more.

Huddled over a pile of padds and files, Mathieson genuinely wished this "oil" was flammable, and that he had a mini-torch available. Even if the it was only a metaphor, the old doctor was sorely tempted to put flame to plastic and torch the pile that was before him, knowing that the fires would also consume what was left of his career. He had finished the reports and had generated enough 'paperwork' to choke a full division of marines, but knew full well his efforts would please no-one.

Nobody likes "reasons unknown" recorded for a medical investigation.

For the unpteenth time that evening, he raised a plastic container of tepid water to his lips in the ongoing effort of keeping re hydrated in Cheron's merciless heat. He nearly choked when the deep rumbling voice behind him boomed out a familiar passage from the Kotar Saga.

'ach Sov vetlh joH'a' ghajtaH cher mob vaD ha'tur ghaH 'Iv ghaH dunar: joH'a' DichDaq Qoy ghorgh jIH ja' Daq ghaH.

Without looking at the singer, Mathieson grinned at the verse. "Not bad, Kol. Not bad at all, son. When you've had your day barkin' orders at quiverin' ensigns an' the like, you could make a go of it as an opera star."

The deep voice sounded amused. "Kol couldn't hit that last deep note if his life depended on it, doctor." The short Englishman turned to look at one of the largest Klingons he had ever seen in his life. The newcomer was about half a foot shorter than Kol, Galaxy's current First Officer, but was broader in girth, and easily fifty pounds heavier - all of it lean muscle. The Klingon's smile was a rat's nest of crooked dental work, but seemed genuine as he gave Mathieson a good natured slug on the shoulder that jarred the human's teeth. "I am Vergh, Captain of the Darchak and Protectorate of the Reman population here, Doctor Mathieson. I believe you have a report for me?"

Wiping a hand over his bald pate, Mathieson looked up at the Klingon captain's crooked smile. "Er, yeah. Give me a mo' t' polish it off, and it's all yours." He turned quickly to finish the master file but stopped to look at Vergh once more. "'Ere, 'ow did you get past Security?", he asked,

Vergh simply crossed his thick arms and widened his toothy smile. "With my amazing skills of tact and diplomacy, naturally. The Federation and the Klingon Empire are allies after all, Doctor - why would you need protection from your friends? Now, that report..."

"Right... right... half a mo', an' it'll be as right as rain." The shortish Englishman returned to his paperwork, trying to hide the discomfort of having a hulking Klingon warrior hovering over him. A few minutes of compiling and he was done and downloaded the data to a padd after sending copies to his superiors and the Romulan Authorities. He offered the small computer to Vergh who swiped it greedily from his hand.

"Lookin' for somethin' in particular, Capt'n?", Mathieson asked, trying to peer past Verg's bulky arm. The Klingon said nothing, muttiring to himself as he scrolled through the pages of report. Finding what he was looking for, he bellowed a yell of primal triumph that echoed throughout the hospital. "HAH! Let them choke on this, human! Let it fester in their gullets!"

As jubulant as Vergh was, Mathieson found it quite easy not to join him in his exhuberance. "Shhhh! This's a bleedin' 'ospital, not a bar room! Keep it down!" The difference in size between the Klingon and Human seemed quite comical, but Vergh managed to calm his celebratory mood. "My apologies, Doctor. But this is some welcome, overdue tidings. Mervaan - come, this will quell your misgivings!"

From the ward a tall, gaunt Reman appeared and took the padd from Vergh's ham-sized hands. Mervaan was a calm contrast to the Klingon's active presence. Silently, quickly, he reviewed the data on the report, barely moving as Vergh paced with joyful impatience. When the Reman was done, he returned the padd to the Klingon, and a smile slowly spread across his pale features. "And you have *my* apologies, my friend - I should not have doubted the innocence of your crew."

Seeing the confusion on Mathieson's face, Vergh made the neccessary introductions. "Mervaan, this is Doctor Mathieson, the Starfleet leech assigned here. Doctor, this is Mervaan - one of the more important leaders of the Remans here on Cheron."

"Doctor", Mervaan said simply in way of greeting, and offered his open palm to the short Human.

"Delighted, I'm sure." Mathieson shook the Reman's hand, shocked by how cold the flesh was. "How're yer people farin', Mister Mervaan. Anythin' we can 'elp with?"

"No, Doctor. The unbiased nature of your treatments here have not gone unnoticed", Mervaan answered calmly. "Our thanks for the way you have looked after our wounded, but for what ails some of us I'm uncertain you are able to be of assistance."

The last comment piqued the Englishman's curiosity. "Well, mate. We won' know 'till ye tell me. Wot're the symptoms an' who 're the wounded?"

Mervaan hasitated in replying - if he had doubts of Starfleet's medical facilities in general or Mathieson's in particular, he gave to clue, he just gave the short Human a long, penetrating stare before offering an answer. "Some of our people are 'gifted' with powers of the mind far more developed than even the most disciplined Vulcan adept. Their powers of telepathy are formidable - and yet, something here on Cheron has affected them deeply." The Reman lowered his stern voice to a quiet whisper. "Whatever they've been exposed to, it's affected them very traumatically."

"'Ow so?"

"Many are catatonic", Mervaan continued quietly. "Others are awake, but paralyzed with fear of something unknown. They will not speak of it, other than to say that 'they are coming'. They repeat those words until they fall asleep from fatigue."

Vergh too lowered his voice to a deep, rumbling whisper. "My crew have scanned this barren rock with both portable units and scanners aboard the Darchak - there's nothing unusual other than ambient radiation from the planet's ancient nuclear war."

Looking at his guests, Mathieson found it difficult to restrain his temper. "An' just 'ow long 'as this been goin' on fer?"

Vergh shrugged. "Weeks. Months. Does it matter?"

"You bet yer ever lovin' 'A' it does!", Mathison growled quietly. "We've been 'ere for bleedin' weeks! Why didn't you come t' me with this crap earlier?"

The Klingon, clearly riled, was about to answer when Mervaan placed a pale hand on the captain's broad shoulder. "Because you came with the Rihannsu, Doctor Mathieson, and the vein of distrust delves deep in the thin soil of cooperation."

The Doctor shook his head as he went to assemble some supplies and equipment. "So's pride, mate. I don' give a rat's ass 'bout th' reasons - all I know's that ye've got injured folk who've suffered needlessly fer days. Ye could've asked!"

While Vergh struggled to control his temper, Mervaan remained icily calm. "You are Human - your people possess to telepathic adepts", he protested.

"Mervaan, I've been practicin' medicine on a starship since before you were a gleam in th' milkman's eye!" Seeing the confused looks, Mathieson quietly explained his logic. "Th' Federation's got a lot 'o different folks servin' - many o' them 're telepaths, and pokin' round space fer forty years on an explorer? Well, ye pick up a few things 'ere an' there. I knew ye had a Reman population 'ere, and I brought over some equipment and drugs that'll help telepathic trauma. May not eliminate it, but dollars t' donuts they'll 'elp tings in th' right direction."

The Reman was cautiously content, and Vergh quickly overcame his agitation and cracked a wolfish grin. "I told you he would be most helpful, Mervaan." His companion was about to agree when he noticed that the two of them were alone. Pack in hand, hat on bald head, Mathieson was already headed for the Reman quarter.

"Inquiring Aunts Want To Know, Part 1"

Principle Characters
Flight Officer Angelienia
Lt. Commander Rexa Idrani-Krieghoff
Lt. Commander Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

For the ten thousandth time (it was more than that, really, but she'd stopped counting about then) Angelienia wished that she knew what was wrong with Victor. Whatever it was, the changes within him had been reflected outside him in the way he lived... and the space he lived in.

Like Victor, his quarters hadn't always been the way they were now; she knew that for a fact. When she'd been inside them Before - lacking a definitive point in time to indicate and say 'this is when and where something happened to Victor' so she just thought of it as 'Before' and 'After' with the capitalization - they'd been completely different. Victor had had many plants then, making the room a small-scale jungle with the smell of exotic flowers and pollens, and there had been pictures of him with and without his family on the walls and on his desk. He'd had small items placed around the rooms then, things that he'd been given or collected, things that were markers for connections that he had to other people and places. There had always been music - well, background noise, anyway - Before as well; constantly playing recordings of what she assumed were the sounds and noises of jungles and other wilderness terrains.

Now... After, there was nothing.

The plants were gone. The pictures and small objects were packed away somewhere. The music was silent. He didn't even turn the lights on much any more, not unless she was here to check on a dancing costume or to try and get him to come out of the darkness and do something. The rooms were empty now; barren in a way that was almost physically painful to her. She wanted them to be full of life, wanted *him* to be full of life, wanted so desperately for him to let her show him that he didn't have to sit in a dark room and look at the stars all night, every night, any more.

The dancing was helping; she could see small changes in him since they'd started to dance together all those months ago, changes that meant he was getting better. His body language wasn't so stiff and controlled, his words were less clipped, more natural... and he'd stopped calling her 'Flight Officer' all the time. He wasn't using her name - not yet - but she'd seen him start to say it twice now... it was only a matter of time. He let her into his rooms now, too, even after all the things she'd said and done, even after that night she'd... the night she'd almost lost him because she hadn't understood, hadn't made the effort to really *see* who he was and what he needed, hadn't looked past what she wanted from him... or thought she'd wanted. He trusted her to check his messages, to come into his barren, empty world and see things that weren't meant for anyone but him.

And he'd told her she didn't have permission to die while he was gone.

She paused in the middle of the room and let herself smile, let herself hope. He'd said she didn't have permission to die. That meant he wanted her here when he returned, that he was trying to reach her too, in his own way, even as she reached out to him. If only....

With a sigh she moved to his desk and touched the LCARS controls to bring up his message queue. Maybe this would be the day there would be something there, the message that would clear him of complicity in installing an illegally-modified lung in his chest, and blow the cloud hovering over him away. Maybe today would be the...

The LCARS panel made an odd noise as she called up his message queue, something that she wasn't used to hearing, and, as she looked down to see what had happened, the wall screen clicked on, displaying a pair of Andorian women in Starfleet uniform who began to speak alternatingly as soon as the screen lit up:

"Ha! We..."

"...caught you, Heinrich!"

"Did you really..."

"...think that you could..."

"...keep hiding..."

"...from us?"

Angelienia blinked. "Ummmmmm..."

"Oh dear," the taller Andorian said, leaning closer to her screen, as if it would let her see Angelienia more clearly. "How...

"...embarrassing," the shorter continued without a pause. "We're dreadfully..."

"...sorry. We thought that you were..."

"...our Heinrich. He's been..."

"...very naughty and hasn't returned..."

"...any of our calls for..."

"...so many months now."

Angelienia looked at the two women blankly for a moment. What were they talking about? Who... Oh. Of course. There was only one pair of people that they *could* be. "You're Victor's Aunts, aren't you?" she said slowly. Apparently all the stories about them were truer than she'd given them credit.

"Yes," the shorter woman nodded. "I'm Ar'resh and this," she indicated the woman beside her, "is Rexa."

"I'm sorry, but Victor's... well, he's not here right now," the Ktarian offered. "He took some leave time and went somewhere with my commanding officer. They're doing something... unofficial, I think." Since that was literally as much as she knew, Angelienia hoped it would be enough for the two women.

Rexa sighed. "Well, this is..."

"...frustrating," Ar'resh finished. "We went to..."

"...a great deal of trouble to..."

"...set this up, and now..."

"...it's all been for nothing," Rexa frowned, her antennae drooping slightly.

If nothing else, Angelienia understood how frustrating it was to reach out to Victor and have him not be there. "I'm very sorry. If you'd like, I'll be glad to tell him you called... or to not tell him if you'd rather surprise him later, once he gets back?"

Rexa's antennae perked up. "Oh, that would be..."

"...very nice of you! You..."

"...really wouldn't mind?"

"No," Angelienia assured them, "I wouldn't mind at all." Why was everyone so afraid of them, anyway, she wondered. They seemed like nice people, so cheerful and concerned about Victor. A little odd, maybe, but then who wasn't? And that thing they did where they traded off speaking in the middle of sentences - that was fascinating. How well did you have to know someone to be able to do that? Would she and Victor ever be able to do it? "I'll even make sure to message you when he gets back so you'll know when to start lurking again if that will help?"

"Well then," Ar'resh nodded, "that's..."

"...settled. We'll just reset everything..."

"...and wait for your message! Thank..."

"...you so very, very much!"

The two women smiled engagingly in thanks, and the shorter one waved cheerily as the screen blanked out.

That hadn't been so bad, Angelienia decided. Maybe all of the rest of the things she'd heard about them was just talk, like the talk about Victor? That must be it. They were just a sweet pair of women - very attractive and not a little ditzy, but just a sweet pair of women that were worried about Victor. Everyone was just exaggerating about them....

The screen blinked back on abruptly, displaying the two Andorian women again, both still smiling. "We're sorry," Ar'resh began, "but we..."

"...got in a rush and almost forgot..."

"...to ask you something important!"

The two women leaned closer to the screen, tiny frowns creasing the azure skin between their white eyebrows.

"Who are you?"

"Why are you in our Heinrich's quarters?"

"Are you a spy?"

"How did you get his door code to get in?"

"Why are you reading his mail?"

"Are you a Romulan operative?"

"How did you get his private comm security code?"

"Are you an Obsidian Order operative?"

"Where is his Ella?"

"What have you done to his room?"

"Why are you disguised as a Marine pilot?"

"Where are all his things?"

"Are you a Changeling?"

"What happened to his plants?"

"Why hasn't he returned our calls?"

"Are you one of those Chamelioids the Klingons keep having problems with?"

"Why did he disconnect in the middle of a call to his mother and never call back?

"Who are you?"

"Why aren't you answering us?"

"Is that really your forehead, or just a prosthetic appliance?"

"Are you deaf?"

"Why did he miss the family reunion again this year?"

"Is there something wrong with you?"

"Why don't you say something?"

"Ummmmm...." Angelienia repeated, her thoughts reeling. Somewhere after the third rapid-fire question, she'd lost track of what the two women were actually saying and had begun to simply swap her gaze from one to the other as they spoke like an observer at a Zero-G Handball game, the words flowing over and past her.

"Well?"

"Speak up!"

"Say something!"

"And not that silly 'Ummm' thing again!"

"Use real words!"

"In context!"

"Go on!"

"We're waiting!"

"Say something!"

"Anything!"

"But with real words!"

Angelienia blinked, looked back and forth between the two women one last time, and tried to speak again. "I... can't."

"You can't?"

"You can't what?"

"You can't speak to us?"

"Is there a cortex bomb in your head preventing it?" Rexa suggested.

"Telepathic influence?" Ar'resh countered.

"One of those parasites from Ceti Alpha IV?"

"Someone off-screen with a weapon trained on you?"

"A cultural or religious vow of silence?"

"Do we not have the correct Security Clearance?"

"Is this one of those Temporal Security things again?"

"That's it, isn't it?"

"You're from the future and we caught you trying to fix something!"

"Will you change our timeline if you speak to us?"

"Can you tell us who will win the next Aldebaran Star Regatta?"

"And how much we can safely bet on them without causing a temporal discontinuity?"

"Ummm... no," Angelienia tried to break in. "I don't..."

Ar'resh sighed. "Oh how sad, it would..."

"...have been nice to be..."

"...wealthy enough to have hundreds..."

"...of handsome young men chasing after...

"...us all the time, trying to seduce us..."

"...into marrying them so they could be kept...

"...men, and parading themselves around..."

"...in those tiny little swimsuits that are all..."

"...the rage on Risa this year, flexing their muscles and..."

"...showing off for us," Rexa finished with a sigh.

"Inquiring Aunts Want To Know, Part 2"

Principle Characters
Flight Officer Angelienia
Lt. Commander Rexa Idrani-Krieghoff
Lt. Commander Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

In the first coherent thought that she'd had since the two Andorians had started to fire questions at her, Angelienia observed, given how attractive the two women were, they really didn't need wealth of any sort whatsoever to have legions of young men competing for their attention.

Ar'resh blinked. "Oh!"

"Well... thank you," Rexa said with a twitch of her right antenna. "But..."

"...don't think you can distract us..."

"...from your nefarious infiltration..."

"...of our Heinrich's quarters and..."

"...privacy by simply complimenting us..."

"...on our appearance! No matter how true..."

"...the compliment, we're not so vain as to..."

"...fall for that!"

"Really!"

"But thank you again!"

The dawning realization that she'd actually uttered the thought aloud instead of retaining it in the privacy of her own mind made Angelienia blush. "I... Stop, please..." she whispered as, without warning, the absurdity of the moment began to overcome her.

"Stop what?"

"When?"

"Where?"

"Why?"

"Who?"

"Talking," Angelienia gasped as she started to giggle. They weren't the terrors everyone said they were - at least not in the sense that most people used the word 'terror' - but she understood why people might think that of them. They were so... overwhelming. "I can't," she got out between giggles, "get a word in because you're talking too fast."

"Oh," Ar'resh said, leaning back slightly. "We're sorry..."

"...for that," Rexa continued. "Should we talk slower?"

"Is there something..."

"...wrong with your hearing? If so..."

"...we'll be glad to repeat..."

"...everything for you!" Rexa wiggled her fingers. "We've learned..."

"...sign language now if that will help."

"No, No," Angelienia gasped, leaning back against Victor's desk and letting herself laugh. "No sign language; just talking is fine." Even the knowledge of why they'd likely learned it - and their earlier reference to 'his Ella' - didn't dim her sudden burst of good humor. "Just stick to one question at a time, please."

Rexa peered closer again. "Are you all right? Sometimes sudden..."

"...bursts of laughter for no apparent reason..."

"...are a sign of extreme mental stress..."

"...and an impending nervous breakdown."

The laughter burst out of her at that comment, and Angelienia let it come, reveling in the relief that it brought with it. "You don't understand," she finally got out after a moment, "I've been trying to reach him for so long, and it's been so lonely, and now you're here and I realize... I've got someone to talk to!"

The Andorians shared a glance. "You've been trying..."

"...to reach him?" Ar'resh finished asking. "For so..."

"...long? How long is 'so long?"

"And where is his Ella?"

"And just who are you, again?"

Angelienia let her last chuckle out with a sigh and hooked a hip over the corner of the desk, settling down comfortably. "My name is Angelienia, I'm really a pilot in the Vanguard squadron aboard the Galaxy and not any of those other things you asked about, and I've been... well... 'dating' I guess is the word... Victor since the Diparthu Incident last year."

The Andorian women looked at each other again, frowning. "What happened to..."

"...Ella?" Ar'resh asked, her voice quieter. "We thought that they were..."

"...serious about each other."

For a second, Angelienia debated saying something catty, but the relief filling her made that impossible even if she'd decided that was what she wanted to do. "They broke up..." she thought a moment, "a year ago, I guess. Right around the time we were at Mirusa IV. And before you ask, no, I don't know why." The Ktarian paused a moment, and then finished gently, "Personally, I think there was an argument about something but that's only a guess; I've never asked either of them."

"Didn't they try to..."

"...work past the problem?"

Of all the conversations Angelienia wanted to have with Victor's aunts, this was not the one - but it was the one they needed, so.... "I'm not sure. It seemed very sudden to most people, almost literally like one day things were fine and the next day they weren't." Angelienia rubbed her palms against the tops of her thighs, focusing on the feel of her flight suit's fabric and not the worry that by talking about this she would somehow undo things and lose Victor again. "I know that something happened," she continued, "when she was shot down during the build-up to the fight in the Havras system and shipwrecked for so long; I don't know what that was, either, but I think maybe it was part of it. Something happened on that long assignment for Intelligence that Victor was on right after that, the one where he left with a Klingon woman. I don't know what that was, either, but he was... different... when he came back. More so, even, than he'd been in a long time. Maybe... maybe they just grew apart. Maybe it wasn't an argument, maybe something else happened, I just don't know." She took a breath and let it out in a sigh. "I didn't want to know."

"Because you wanted to be with..."

"...our Heinrich, instead," Rexa observed penetratingly.

"Yes," Angelienia acknowledged. "Because I wanted to be with him instead."

"And now you are?" Ar'resh asked.

"Yes," Angelienia answered, the smile that always seemed to be on her face when she thought of Victor's arms around her slipping there again. "We're together... not the way I want us to be, but... as much as he can be." She looked up at the screen. "I didn't sabotage his relationship with her, though. I... I thought about it, yes, but I didn't do it. I couldn't, not if I wanted to be with him. He'd never forgive something like that, and I knew he'd find out eventually. So I just waited until..."

"Until they weren't..."

"...together, and then you..."

"...caught him," Ar'resh said slowly.

"No." The Ktarian woman shook her head. "You can't catch Victor; he always knows when he's being stalked. I almost lost him because I did some stupid things back when I expected him to be like everyone else, back before I really understood. He isn't like everyone else; you have to just walk up to him and be honest, to offer him everything, and let him decide when he takes each step, when he accepts each part of you." She sighed again and straightened a bit. "If he doesn't move as quickly as you'd like, then you have to be patient, to wait for him. You can't rush him either." She nodded to the two Andorians on the screen. "He's worth waiting for - you two know that."

Both women's left antenna twitched a little, and they seemed to relax slightly. "Of course he is," Rexa nodded. "But..."

"...what do you mean 'trying to reach him for so long?' You just said..."

"...that you'd been dating for almost a year now..."

"...didn't you? How can you be dating and not..."

"...be able to reach him in all that time?"

"Because..." Angelienia frowned for a second before making it vanish, not wanting to appear unattractive to Victor's family. "Because there's something wrong with him." The relief at having someone to talk to, someone that cared for Victor, that was a part of his family, was overwhelming and the words started to rush out of her. "It's been happening for a long time now, slowly, but after Mirusa IV and the Diparthu Incident it's been so much worse. He's all cold and distant, like he's withdrawn from everyone around him. He's always had trouble with people, you know that, you'd have to, but now it's worse. He...the thing inside him, the one that scares people, its closer to the surface now a lot of the time. I think... I think that maybe the only time it isn't there is when we're together."

She paused for a breath and let images of the way Victor was when they danced, when he let himself go and they moved with the music as one, fill her head. "He's different then, when we're together, more like he used to be, more like I want him to be again. But it's taking so long, and I'm so worried about him. What will happen if something happens to me? He'll be all alone again and there won't be anyone to reach out to him, not the way he needs. What will happen if something happens to him on a mission and I'm not there to reach out and keep him from falling back into himself again?" She stopped for a moment and shook her head. "And now I'm doing it to you, aren't I? I'm talking so fast that you can't answer me."

"No, you're fine, Angelienia. We can..."

"...call you Angelienia, can't we?"

"Call..." Angelienia suddenly smiled, a warm expression that lit up her face. "Call me Angeli - that's what family would say."

Two white eyebrows rose questioningly. "You want us to call you..."

"...by your family diminutive? Like we..."

"...were part of your family?" Rexa asked.

"Of course I do," Angelienia assured them. "We all love Victor, and that makes us a family - his family. I just wish...." She looked down and sighed. "I just wish he would understand that," she finished softly.

Bothe women smiled at her. "All right, then..."

"...we'll call you 'Angeli,' then. But..."

"Angeli..." Rexa asked. "What do you mean..."

"...he doesn't understand that?"

"That he doesn't understand that we're... oh, I see," Angelienia nodded. "He doesn't understand because he doesn't think like everyone else. To him, family are the people you love, the people you care about - and the people you make love to. Everyone else is either an opponent; someone he talks to - which is what I think his idea of a friend is, someone that can talk to him without screaming and fleeing the room; a shipmate to be protected; or just sort of... there, waiting to see what category they'll fall into."

"Well..." Rexa began, "we always knew he was..."

"...not like other people, because his Uncle..."

"...Bernhard, our husband, was like him..."

"...in so many ways, but we've never heard..."

"...an explanation like the one you..."

"...just gave us...."

The two women stopped abruptly and looked at each other, eyes going wide. "Wait, did you just..."

"...say that our Heinrich..."

"...doesn't think that you're family?"

"Yes," Angelienia nodded.

"Then that means that he..."

"...and you aren't lovers? That..."

"...the two of you don't have sex..."

"...all the time until you're exhausted..."

"...and can't move except to..."

"...fall asleep and dream of what..."

"...you'll do to each other when you..."

"...wake up in the morning? No hot tubs..."

"...and games of 'find the soap? No...'

"...walks on the beach and getting sand..."

"...in all sorts of places you shouldn't..."

"...because you were making love in..."

"... the surf? No drizzling Romulan chocolate..."

"...on each other and licking...."

Angelienia shook her head, interrupting the two before she learned something else that she wasn't sure she wanted to know about their personal lives, no matter how interesting it might be to try with Victor. "No, none of that."

"But you've been dating Heinrich for..."

"...a year now!" Rexa protested. "What are the..."

"...two of you doing? What *have*..."

"...the two you been doing for so..."

"...long, if not that, Angeli?"

"We dance," the Ktarian answered.

"But you said that the two of you..."

"...weren't lovers," Rexa frowned.

"Everyone says that when I tell them," Angelienia corrected. "But it's the truth - we dance every night. To music. All kinds formal dances with names like 'Viennese Waltz' and 'Tango.'"

"You just... dance?"

"Nothing else?"

"Just dance to music?"

"Every night?"

"For a year?"

"Inquiring Aunts Want To Know, Part 3"

Principle Characters
Flight Officer Angelienia
Lt. Commander Rexa Idrani-Krieghoff
Lt. Commander Ar'resh Idrani-Krieghoff

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters

"Every night we've both been aboard for a year," Angelienia nodded. "There were a few weeks after our last mission where he didn't show up no matter how long I waited, but... he was getting over that. Right before he left, he'd asked about us trying new dances, and I'd started making new costumes for us to wear, so I know he was over whatever it was that had been bothering him."

Rexa stared blankly from the screen. "You danced."

"Every night."

"For a year."

"Just danced."

"With your clothes on."

"To music."

"No sex."

"No kissing."

"Just dancing."

"With your clothes on."

"Well..." Angelienia began.

"You did something else?" Rexa asked eagerly.

"We've started to eat dinner together after dancing," the pilot offered.

"Dinner."

"You eat dinner."

"Just dinner."

"No dessert?"

"Not if you mean Victor was my dessert," Angelienia said regretfully. "Or that I was his. We just ate dinner, and I talked to him."

"When did this start?" Ar'resh wanted to know.

"Our Heinrich was never a big..."

"...dancer, no matter how well endowed..."

"...he might be in other ways."

Angelienia felt her cheeks turning pink. Maybe they *were* the terrors that everyone said, after all. "After the Diparthu Incident. Victor started reserving holosuite time every night, and I wanted to... get closer... to him, so I checked to see what the programs he was running were - and they were dances. Formal dance programs of all kind, mostly human dances. Dances I'd never heard of before. So I studied one that he'd gone through a lot, made myself a costume, and waited for him to request it again and... well, I got someone to give me the codes and just joined in without asking."

"And he wasn't mad?" Rexa questioned.

"No, not really." Angelienia thought a moment. "I think... I think that he was lonely, and that having someone else there was better than dancing with holograms. Even someone that had made the mistakes I had with him earlier."

"That was you, then. You were the..."

"...one that Ella kept referring to as..."

Ar'resh paused, "as a...."

"I know what she called me," Angelienia said softly. "It's all right. Many of the names were even true then. But that was Before, and this is now. I'm not who I was then."

The Andorians nodded. "All right, but you seem like..."

"...a healthy young woman. You're..."

'...attractive, slim, athletic, and unless you have..."

"...a set of those tacky implants, you've..."

"...a wonderful figure that anyone would be..."

"...proud of. Why isn't our Heinrich all over..."

"...you every night until you beg him to stop

"...the way he was with Ella?" Rexa wanted to know.

"Because I'm not family yet," Angelienia explained, suppressing a shiver at the thought of what having Victor do just that to her would be like. "And he believes you only do that with family." She shook her head slightly. "Anyway I... I'm not so sure that they were... family."

"No?"

"Why not?"

"You know Victor as well as anyone does, better than most," the Ktarian said. "Do you really think that anyone who loved him, who was his lover in every sense of the word, would ever let him go? Or that he would leave them?"

The two women were silent for a moment before Ar'resh said, simply, "No."

"I think that she wanted that with Victor," Angelienia admitted. "I know she even spent the night with him on occasion. But I don't think it happened. Bad timing, some kind of misunderstanding, whatever the reason, I can't believe they were ever lovers. If they had been, then I wouldn't be... with him."

The Aunts blinked and looked at each other. "If that's right," Rexa began, "then..."

"...maybe all of the others weren't..."

"...his lovers, either, like we thought..."

"...they were. Not the lady Marine..."

"...or the Klingon girl..."

"...or even that poor Bajoran girl," Ar'resh sighed.

The 'lady Marine' was easy - she must have been Gunny Goldstein - but the other two, the 'Klingon girl' and the 'poor Bajoran girl' were mysteries to Angelienia. Mysteries, she decided, that she didn't want to investigate. One ghost between her and Victor was enough, two if you counted the Gunny - whom Angelienia considered a creditable threat but doubted had ever done anything with Victor outside the Aunts' imaginations - but four was far, far too many. She didn't want to know their stories or the stories of any of the women before them. The only story she was interested in was the one that she and Victor were writing now.

"Is there anything else you need to know?" she finally asked the two Andorians, now fallen silent.

"Just this, Angeli," Rexa asked with a quirked antenna. "Do..."

"...you really care for..."

"...our Heinrich? Or is this some..."

"...weird stalking thing brought on..."

"...by your lust for him and the famous..."

"...Krieghoff sex drive and the pleasure that..."

"...they can give you?"

The answer was easy, easier than she'd ever thought it would be - especially when she realized that she'd already said the words to the two women earlier and hadn't realized it. "I love him," she said with a smile of self-discovery. "I want to *make* love to him of course, but that's a part of loving a man, especially one like Victor. I ache for him to hold me in that way sometimes... but I'm waiting for him, waiting for the time and the place and moment when he realizes that's what he wants, because then it'll be real, we'll be real. I'll wait for him if it takes another year, or another ten years if that's what it takes. He's worth waiting for, just like he's worth loving." She smiled and let the words flow out of her again. "I love him."

"She sounds like we did..." Ar'resh sighed with a smile, "back when we were courting Bernhard doesn't she?"

Rexa nodded. "Yes, she does." She looked down from the screen at Angelienia. "She smiles like we did, too. We wish..."

"...you good luck, Angeli, you and..."

"...our Heinrich too. Take good care of him..."

"...and welcome to the family."

"When Darkness Falls" Part II
(Brevet) Lieutenant Teyri "Rockstar" Jen (PC, Becky W.) Vanguard 5/Sqn. XO
Lieutenant "Fuzzball" Kettch (PCC, Pat W.) Vanguard 9
Plt Niki "Pebbles" Reeleese (NPC, Ian D.) Vanguard 12

Appearances by:
Plt Xiaz "Zee" Padma Vanguard 6
FOfc Ember "Orphan" Lansky Vanguard 10
Plt Ayden "Tater" O'Connor Vanguard 7
Plt "Thundercat" K'Rem Vanguard 14

***
Romulan/Reman Settlement
Cheron
***

The seven craft broke through the outer atmosphere of the desolate planet, its cloud cover still tainted rust with sand and radiation from centuries past. Niki switched over her controls and stabilizers to atmospheric mode as Teyri panned the order across the network.

She didn't know the XO that well, and in fact never flew with her in anything other than the odd training maneuver, so she hadn't yet assessed her as yet. There'd been the scuttlebutt that she told Corran off on an irregular basis. If there was even an ounce of truth to the rumors, then she was going to like her. A lot. In fact, Teyri was already on the female Kowe's better side by a hair for the reason being that she was a female, and in command. The male species tended to be to judgmental and disastrous. Females were more shrewd and tactful.

If Rex never came back from his latest whore-run, the squadron was already in better hands.

Kettch noted the flying of his fellow Kowe, and, not for the first time, refrained from commenting on her piloting. It was technically fine, sure, and as the Squadron Trainer, he probably should give her some advice.

But what niki's flying lacked - as he and Corran and Teyri had discussed when she'd been moved to the reserve roster - was what her flying lacked. She was by the book, predicatable. There was no art, no passion to the movements of her craft, and that was something every truly good fighter pilot needed. Insipration - though some would say insanity - separated the quick from the dead.

Instead, he focused on the switchover to atmospheric fight, easing back the ship's artificial gravity slowly until it was nonexistant. Kettch always preferred to fly like that within a gravity field - nothing gave him his bearings better than FEELING the way the ship moved, something you just couldn't do in space.

Niki felt the onset of exhilaration at the break through the atmosphere, but tucked it away for later perusing. It'd been a long time since she made planetfall in a fighter, and she wasn't going to let anything ruin it. By the book, straight and true. Not even her ego or personal feelings was going to ruin this one. And especially not Kettch. No way, nu-uh.

There was a ping in Jen's ear from her helmet comm, then new coordinates began downloading to her terminal. She began speaking to her flight, knowing that the voice activation would automatically send it out to them. "Okay, guys, new coordinates. This is where we're going. It's right on the perimeter of the camp, where the guards were last heard from." She pushed a series of buttons, and the new information was sent over to each one of the fighters flying along with her. "We're almost there. Not that anyone is complaining about the extra cockpit time, am I right?"

"I never do, dear girl." Kettch replied first. Though his people were an arboreal race, Kettch had never really liked being on the ground. He supposed he was the opposite of an agoraphobic - he wanted to be up, as far up as was kowely possible.

It didn't take long to reach the assigned coordinates, since from their altitude, the visual representation of a giant plume of smoke rising into the air from a solitary location three KM's out from Leto's position gave it away.

The formation circled once around the designated landing area and Jen looked it over, taking in all the information that she could. The place where they were meant to land was free and clear of obstructions - at least at the moment - but not so the rest of it. It looked as though someone had stepped on the home of an ant colony. There was confusion as people ran this way and that. As they came in for a landing, Jen could see various people standing around shouting into mics or just the air. From the looks of the others doing the grunt work, they were getting conflicting orders every couple of minutes or so.

They landed on the outside of the perimeter. Jen jumped down from her cockpit as soon as she feasibly could, stretching her legs and back surreptitiously as she waited for the rest of her group to do the same.

It was hot here. That was the first thing that came to mind. Hot and windy. The wind picked up dirt particles and flung them this way and that, generally having the presence of mind to fling it right were it would do the most good - in Jen's eyes. She squinted a little bit, but refused to get her helmet from her fighter and retreat behind the safety of the transparisteel.

Kettch immediately started doing a tactical survey of the encampment. There were four equidistant forcefield generators, arranged in a lyerd eggshell pattern that left no gaps - not even the generators themselves.

It was a good setup.

When Niki cracked the cockpit canopy, the first thing she felt was grit hit her eyeteeth. She'd never been on a world so polar opposite her own, even though she'd been on a few worlds during her career. Just nothing like this one.

Spitting out the dust, and trembling against the uncomfortable feeling of it congealing in her fur, she donned her goggles and clamored out of the fighter, pulling an electronics and engineering survival kit with her in the process.

While the others were doing their own thing, checking out the surroundings, the Kowe was awed by the enormous forceshield at a point far distant that glittered lavender with particle impacts. Panning her gaze back around to her forefront, she counted out a dozen or more enormous ten meter 'poles' jutting out from equally enormous foundations that held them in place. All of them had been deactivated.

She couldn't see more than a few meters past the perimeter, as dust devils and wind gusts churned up sand to the point of almost utter obscurity.

Further down the chain of perimeter attenuators for the force-shield, just at the point of opacity, there were several beings encircling one of the foundations, working feverishly against the dust storm.

"I bet we're going to stripping our rides of sand and dust motes for the next three weeks once we get back."

"What?!" Someone nearby yelled in Niki's general direction; the wind was really whipping around. She couldn't tell who it was.

"Nothing!"

A Romulan approached the group as they stood there observing. Taking one look at his apparel, Jen came to the decision that this just might be one of the diplomats they had been dispatched to pick up. Besides the fact that he wasn't dressed in the military uniform, the clothing he was wearing was of finer weave then others around him. As he came closer, she could also see his profession reflected in his bearing. He walked with his back straight, proud, although no more so then any other Romulan that Jen had come across. He wore a small sneer on his face, but that, too, was characteristic of his race when confronted with those of other races.

She couldn't have said exactly what it was, but something about the way that he walked, the way he dressed, the way that he ignored everything going on around him, but at the same time observed all... It was everything and nothing about him that told Jen 'diplomat'.

All of this crossed through her head as the Romulan approached. She gave him a small bow, almost just an inclination of her head. He returned the gesture, then moved in closer to be heard better.

"Greetings to you," he said, looking around curiously at those arrayed in front of him. Jen bit back a smile when she saw him stop on Kettch momentarily. There was a slight tightening around his eyes, but that was all that betrayed his reaction.

"Greetings, sir. I'm Lieutenant Teyri Jen, Executive Officer of the Vanguard Squadron. We were sent down here to help out with something?"

"Yes, so I am led to understand. I am Sub-Director Sular, representative of Director Leto's staff. As you can see, things here are very...chaotic." He waved his hand, indicating behind them and to one side. "Part of our perimeter shield has been shut down, from a pair of attenuators overloading. As it has been explained to me, something overloaded one, which overloaded another, and another, until a chain reaction took out over a hundred meters of out shield. We also lost all communications with the colony, as our arrays went down as well." He gave a barely perceptible sigh, and Jen chuckled.

"Of course you did. It never rains, but it pours, right?" The Romulan looked at her inquiringly. "Ah, never mind."

"This is not the first time this has occurred. Since the Klingons have their presence known, the acts of sabotage have increased tenfold."

"How do you know it's sabotage?" Nike trundled forward, causing the Romulan's eyes to flitter in disdain quickly, but just long enough to know it was there. "The dust gets into everything. It's ground out the electronics with hardly an effort."

"It has happened before, if you had been listening. The equipment is very well-maintained. Each attenuator is meticulously attended to daily to remove any dust particles."

"Still, it only takes on mote."

Sular sighed, even in the gusts, it could be heard as a whisper on the wind. "And also disable all electronics within a hundred meters of the epicenter? I hardly believe this gods-forsaken dirt could do all that at once, and repeat it several times."

"Confessional" (The Rihannsu Tangent)

Lt. (JG) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment

**** Ki Dirguse Farming Plantation, ch'Rihan ****

As much as it was a relief to finally be out of the small shuttle, Steven was finding himself a tight ball of nervousness as they made their way to what looked like the main housing unit. He had no idea what to expect, or what he should really say to the woman. But he resigned himself to needing to get it off his chest.

The view before him was quite spectacular, rolling meadows of crops as far as the eye could see in all directions. The few workers he could see were working away in the fields or on farming vehicles parked in what looked like a maintenance shed, off to one side.

Two large buildings faced him. They differed greatly. The one to his left looked brand new, with a beautiful design, materials and a nice garden growing out front. While the other looked old and worn, as if it had been standing there for a hundred years. An old woman sat on a rickety old rocking chair out front of the old building, knitting away at something. Could this be the woman he was here to meet? Could she be the mother of the fallen soldier? Without a description or image to go by, he was going to have to ask.

Before he could take another step, a little Rihannsu girl, no more than 2 or 3 years old, ran out from behind a fence, running away from another child. Looking back at the second child, she did not see the newcomers and ran straight into Jonas' leg, to end up sitting on her behind on the ground. Looking up at the obstruction, she saw Steven and freaked, thinking he was the monster that her mothers' bedtime stories were about; The monster that would catch and eat her if she didn't do her chores. She screamed, drawing the attention of the nearby Farm workers.

"Easy child, I come in peace." He called out in her native tongue, hoping to ease her mind.

Nara looked about with the same suspicious glare she held for these people and everything about them. She looked down at the child, hearing Jonas' words, but letting them flow into the wind without so much as trying to remember what little of the language she learned at the Academy.

The child backpedaled on all fours, her eyes never leaving Steven's form. She didn't stop until one of the farmhands stood between, pitchfork in hand, threatening Steven.

"We come in peace." He said to the man. Not sure if he had heard him, Steven said it again. "We come in peace." He held his hands up in a non threatening gesture.

Nara did no such thing, but looked at the man firmly.

The man prodded the fork forwards towards the duo.

Before the man could do anything, a voice called out in Rihannsu to the man. Steven struggled to make out what was being said between the man with the pitchfork and the woman, who had come to see what the commotion was about, as he didn't know that much Rihannsu and the Universal Translator was having trouble with the variation in the Rihannsu dialect spoken in this neck of the woods. Several times they each spoke, back and forth, before the man lowered the pitchfork and with a snarl, he turned back towards the shed.

"Please forgive him. He is very protective of the younglings." She said in Federation Standard, after seeing that they were not Rihannsu.

Steven nodded. "There is nothing to forgive. I would do exactly the same if I was in his position."

Nara just eyed the woman, trying to figure out if she was a threat. Maybe she was being paranoid and completely irrational. Maybe she rather be safe than sorry.

"Please excuse my rudeness. I am Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas, and this is Lieutenant Naranda Roswell. We are from the USS Galaxy, currently in orbit. I come seeking someone, whom I've been told lives and works here."

The woman nodded. "I am Valiea." She replied.

Steven's eyes widened. Was this the woman? Was this Valiea Kemdra? Was this the soldier's mother? "Valiea Kemdra?" He asked.

She nodded. "That is my name. How is it that you know my name?"

"You are the person I am seeking." He replied.

Her eye widened. "Why would a human want to come all this way just to seek me out?"

"It is a personal matter." Steven replied. "Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?"

She cocked her head slightly, thinking. "Very well. This way." She motioned towards the shabby building with the old woman in the rocking chair.

Steven turned to Nara. ~Will you be alright for a little while?~

Nara nodded.

Steven nodded back and followed Valiea towards the building.

****

"A burden like this is something that a mother shouldn't have to bare." He paused. Placing a hand gently upon her shoulder, to reassure her, he continued. "Parents shouldn't outlive their offspring. But, I am not sorry that I killed your son.... Wait...." He stopped seeing her look up at him venomously. "Please... Please hear me out first. I know that didn't sound right, but you need to let me finish. Please."

She motioned with her hand to continue.

"As I said, I'm not sorry I killed him, for it was a different time back then. Our two people's were at war; a long and horrible war. And during war people die. It was a struggle for survival on that damned planet. Me versus him. Plain and simple. I battled for my survival, and that of my comrades. As did your son. I am deeply sorry for your loss. I am sorry for what you went through in learning of his death."

Steven sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand in his. "I don't know what the Rihannsu Military told you but he fought bravely, fiercely. And in his dying breath, his thoughts were of you."

Steven released her hand and opened up his rucksack. Digging deep within, he pulled out a knife. The deadly weapon he now held was a sight to behold. The intricate carvings in the ivory handle were, Steven believed, of Romulan design and mythology. The blade gleamed in the pale light that filtered into the small room that made up Valiea's bedroom. The name etched at the base of the blade spelled out the name of the fallen Romulan soldier.

"He handed me this as he lay there. He said, if the time presented itself, that he wished that I would give this to you. As a way of remembering his great sacrifice for the, he hoped, greater good of the Rihannsu Empire." He presented the knife to Valiea. "And so I give what rightfully belongs to you back to you."

The tears came in a flood as she sat there, holding the knife in her trembling hands.

Steven stifled a tear. "I'll be outside. Should you want to talk more" He said quietly.

3681