"A Captivating Audience"

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)

***Compound***

With a groan Bran opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. Her head was pounding like madness, and she was feeling sick. "What the..." she muttered, "Where am I?"

Paulo awoke with a stir. He had a pounding headache and all he wanted to do was turn all his senses off. He looked around and found dozens of others around him, then remembered what happened. They had been attacked, he hid, then a sharp pain to the back of his head. He looked around for Cora before finally crawling over to her and starting to wake her. "Cora," he said. He really didn't care about protocol at the moment. He just wanted to make sure she was all right.

A noticeable groan came from Paulo's left. Cora struggled to bring herself to full consciousness. "Where are we?" Her voice sounded far weaker than usual.

"Still at the camp," Paulo said. As she had been waking he had taken the time to take a peak around to see what they where dealing with. "And under heavy guard."

By now Branwen had come to her feet. She soon noticed that she was free to move, up to a point. Most of her people seemed to be gathered in a circle in the middle of the camp. Hooded figures were watching them. She took a deep breath.

"Doc, are you here?"

Dass stirred as the abbreviation of his vocation was uttered. He moved slightly, rolling on to his side. Before replying he checked the back of his head for blood. Luckily there was none; just a rising tender lump. "Yu, wadda yu wan?" he slurred trying to focus on the ground beside him.

"Look after the men." Branwen said. "If you are up to it." She moved on to the next person she wanted to talk to.

Dass opened an eye and looked in the general direction that her voice had come from. What a cheek! Where was the concern for his wellbeing? Ah but of course he was a doctor - they can't get hurt! He shook his head at yet another stereo type and slowly sat up. There was no point in answering the woman; she wasn't sticking around to hear it any ways. Biting back several rather snooty replies he started to assess his own situation, the first time that he had put himself first during this whole excursion.

"First Sergeant, let's do a roll call, to see who is here and in what state." Too many people were on the ground and not moving. "After that senior officers to me, and we figure out a way to get out of here." she finished in a whisper.

Having been both a captor and, at least briefly once before, a captive he knew what the Lieutenant wanted, while practical, wasn't really a good idea.

He whispered back to Bran, "Ma'am, as much as that would be a good idea, your average guard doesn't like their prisoners talking, though I'll try and do so visually the best I can."

After looking around from his sitting position, not standing like a good little captive, Thral nudged the LT and whispered, "I don't see our pointy eared friend, same with Rayne. And as for your other request...not advisable yet...they seem to be waiting for something, otherwise we should at least be blindfolded or being moved by this point."

"Let's hope they escaped." Branwen whispered back. She did not want to think about the other possibility, Rayne was a friend. "I acknowledge your advice, first Sergeant. But I want to be prepared." Casually she made sure she came closer to some of the other officers without actually talking yet. Most of the people on the ground were quietly talking to each other now, and it didn't seem to bother the guards at this point.

Caboose looked at the assembled group while rubbing the back of his head. Apparently some of the attackers had some kind of heavy stun weapon that could take down a Klingon ambassador after an all night bender across the quadrant. "Um, lieutenant London?" Caboose said in the softest whisper that his deep voice can provide, "I don't see lieutenant Ward anywhere but most of the arcs are here though. Except for Ward, Waldron and Grif anywhere." he finished.

"That's good, thank you." She whispered back while she checked his head as a diversion. "Yes you should definitely see the Doc, private." she finished a little louder.

Now that some people got away they could hopefully set up some kind of rescue. And they needed to be ready to respond when that happened.

Dhanishta was still unconscious when Dass finally came across her. He had done as the lieutenant requested, slowly going from one team member to the other assessing their health. Not much he could do about it though, not without access to his medical kit. "I need a neural stimulator." Dass said aloud to himself. Standing up he crossed the line up, headed in the direction of his tent.

Before Dass could take ten steps, he was knocked backwards without warning. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled as if charged with electricity. Pushing a hand outward in front of him, it became more of a struggle the harder he pushed, until he was again thrown back.

From out of the darkness of the tent, a form emerged, and as it drew closer to Dass, the Doctor felt himself being pushed backwards towards the other captives.

"Go back to your pen, infidel. No excuses." And as if to emphasize the point, his fingers crackles as they were thrown outward. Dass was immediately thrown on his ass in the dirt behind.

***outside the camp***

2nd Lieutenant Rayne Sutea had been lucky. By some miracle and a clear sign of her training she'd managed to escape, very worried about the members of the team who had ended up as prisoners.

Greg Ward watched from his vantage point when he heard a gentle beep in his right ear at which point he reached up and activated the hands free comm. "Snake, go." he said quietly.

"Snake, Wolf. I have movement less than six feet to your left. Looks like the shadow managed to escape." the normally quiet voice of Grace Waldron who was the sniper and scout for the ARCs was quieter than normal which meant he had to strain to hear her.

"Roger that, keep me covered." Greg said as he gently slid out from his hiding place, favoring his right side which had a hastily done bandage. "Sutea?" he asked in a questioning tone.

****

Standing off in a cordoned section of the former Starfleeters campsite, the captors had assembled a makeshift command tent out of their gear and scattered parts.

Trundling up alongside the tent came the vehicle that had previously been cloaked during the raid, but made sure it became visible as it drove by the captives.

The hiss of decompression emitted itself into the cool night air, and the gull-wing door raised itself on oiled hinges, letting the one previously introduced as 'Lookout 3' out.

The lecterns that gave a semblance of light in the remote area flickered, casting ominous shadows against the rocky terrain, broken only by the dust kicked up by black boots against pebbles and rocks when they scattered at his passing.

Entering the tent through a stack of crates, half his face was momentarily lit up by a sliver of light as he passed by a gap in the stacks. Dark eyes glittered against an equally dark face, separated only by the whites behind his left eye.

And then the light was gone.

"Report." He strode into the command center, sliding off his headscarf to lay it on one of the crates.

"We've captured most of them alive, with little injury. At least four are unaccounted for, but search parties are currently scanning for them."

'Three' nodded in assent, perusing the map laid out before him. "They'll not likely survive the night. And if they do, without their radioactive medication, the planet will reclaim them. They are of little consequence."

He sucked in his breath, looking up and around the table at the four beings facing him.

"Have you determined who their leader is?"

"We believe so. A woman. She has been trying to disguise her leadership by

surrounding herself with a regular group and playing down her decision-making by allowing others to be independent."

"And we don't know this for fact?" His tone showed displeasure at the lack of efficiency on the part of the subordinate.

The other shifted his feet almost imperceptibly. "No, sir."

'Three' burned his hardened gaze into the other's eyes, knowing they were there by the shine of his whites.

"Then it's time you relearned how. Bring me to this 'group'."

"Down in a Hole"

Cpl. Khrystyne 'Flatline' Carlysle
Field Medic/MedEvac Technician

Sgt. "Chuckles" Sorak
Forward Scout/Sniper

PFC Memphis "Shade" Artus
Pathfinder/Tactical Commando

Revik Aglukuck
Field Advisor, Reman Ascendancy

Mystery NPC's

In the midst of bailing out of the LAAV's after the system shortage amongst the two vehicles, Khrystyne 'Flatline' Carlyle was assailed with a cacophony of voices through her headpiece; Pops was relaying orders, Furji was cursing, Nitro was being typically greasy in his cross-talk chatter.

But Khrystyne had enough training and experience with this crew to be able to pick out that which applied to her skillset better than the others, and it was here that she knew about the Reman's condition.

Still, having only skimmed light material on their biology while on board the D'Decius in transit - and even most of that had to be run through translator matrices as most of the known references were in Rihannsu - she fought hard to remember the basics as she pinpointed the Vulcan bio-sign on her HUD.

She felt a presence to her left as she half ran, half crouched her way across the rock-strewn landscape. Distracted at the moment as her hands went for the phaser rifle dangling off her shoulder mount, her foot slipped into a crevice and twisted itself harshly. She didn't fall or cry out though, as a strong arm encircled her torso, and she looked up into the face of the Anuban - Shade.

"Dammit, Shade, you just about gave me a heart attack! Give me some warning next time, would you?"

Shade remained silent while she slung an arm around his broad shoulders.

It was then that her HUD broke down into static, and shut off completely, and not just the Anuban went silent.

There wasn't time to stop and check out the problems, for she knew without confirming it that it was a symptom of the same effect that had forced them out of their LAAV's.

Shade kept on course, and after what felt like hours instead of moments, she was released, where she fell to the ground. A pinpoint of light danced a several meters distant and coming straight towards them. She reacted by raising her rifle and peering down the scope at the incoming. As it reached ten feet, she lit up the flashlight at the end, hoping to dazzle whatever was coming at them before she shot it.

It was 'Chuckles', the Vulcan sniper. And he was carrying the Reman in a fireman's carry.

Dousing the light, she rasped out a whisper out to him, knowing he'd hear with that sharp Vulcan hearing of his, exulting when he dropped the Reman down beside her.

Her fears lost in the night with the others, she set to work on scanning him for injury while Sorak brought her up to speed.

"The others are arrayed along the perimeter, as far as I can determine. The Master Sergeant and I became separated when our CNI's became disabled and I have been unable to locate him. We cannot stay here. There are lifeforms approaching our position." He settled himself into a crevice on Carlysle's other side, settling his sniper rifle into a niche while she performed her medical skills on the Reman.

She shook her head, even though no one could see it in the darkness. Shade had disappeared yet again.

"I can't work on him here, Sergeant. I need light. As far as I can tell, I think he had a telepathic overload. But I've no clue how to read these guys."

"Would a contained unit, such as a bunker, or outpost, suffice?"

"Is that a joke, Chuckles? No... I suppose not. You know it would do!"

"I was able to take detailed sensor scans earlier," He slung the rifle around his arm, picking up the Reman effortlessly. Shade magically re-appeared out of nowhere, mimicking the Vulcan in hauling Flatline up and over his shoulder. "There is a series of units carved into the cliff-side not one kilometer north of here. We will relocate at that position. Let's move. Now."

****

Eight Minutes Later

There were several nondescript decrepit buildings built into the base of the cliff. Looking up, there were what appeared to be observation-type windows jutting out from the cliff-face, and because of the dark of night, it wasn't possible to count out just how many there were.

It didn't take much effort to open the door to what appeared to be the largest building from what they could see, and once inside, they were able to barricade it back up. The room they had entered was devoid of anything but a broken wooden chair resting in a corner, covered in dust.

Sorak took out a tricorder, and scanned the interior of the building.

"The electronics work again?" Khrystyne hadn't thought to activate her CNI while continuing to examine Aglukuck, so it was a slight surprise when Sorak's tricorder was working.

"For the same reason your scanner works I assume, Corporal. They had not been active when the systems in the vehicles were disabled. Any device that had not been active at the moment the electromagnetic pulse was launched against us was unaffected."

She stopped to look at her scanner, forgetting that it was working as well. She'd not been in any real frontline conflict, with the exception of the explosion in the hangar bay several months ago. When the Jem'Hadar pacifists were beamed up from Tru'Haran after they'd been caught in a crossfire between two rival extremist groups.

"As far as I know, none of the research group or the representatives sent here have EMP tech. Then again, I'm a lowly corporal. I'm on a need-to-know basis."

"You are correct on both counts, Corporal. That leaves us with an unknown lifeform capable of launching electronic diffusion means." He shut down the tricorder and shone his beacon across the room. There was an opening that led further into the darkness.

"I recommend we proceed further into the compound. There are several isolated units and corridors. There are materials within that will assist in strengthening our position until assistance arrives."

"You're in command, Sergeant. Just get me somewhere where I can tend to the Revik."

****

Twelve Minutes Later

They'd delved deep into the labyrinth of corridors, exploring rooms as they went with little depth; they only entered each to verify no surprises, and anything that might help them in the long run.

Khrystyne had taken leave of Shade's help in moving about; after repairing the tissues with her handy regenerator, it had been reduced to a dull ache, but manageable. While staying barely cognizant of the surroundings (leaving it up to the Anuban and Vulcan to deal with that), she bumped into Shade, who'd stopped suddenly. She followed the path of his beacon as it traced the floor.

There were footprints. Humanoid footprints. They were fresh, and they were coming *from* the direction they were going.

Chuckles gave a hand-signal, moving them all into the closest room, where he broke out his tricorder and immediately began scanning.

Khrystyne, meanwhile, helped move the Reman onto a counter-top that may have been an island preparation table at one time. The moment the Reman was lain down, his head propped up upon a gear-pack, he began moaning, his voice raising in tone and pitch.

Sorak shot Carlysle a glare that told her to sedate the Reman before he gave away their position. The Vulcan closed the tricorder and moved alongside the Revik, sizing him up with a length-wise glance.

"I don't know enough about his biology, Sergeant. What constitutes a sedative for us might be poison to him. I can't be sure."

Sorak, his features in the dim light of Flatline's beacon that was lying on the counter behind them, reached up to the Reman's neck and squeezed at two points between shoulder-blades. Aglukuck did not go silent.

The Vulcan glanced to the female, then removed his phaser and pointed it at the Revik.

"No!" Khrystyne interjected herself between them. "That could kill him in his state!"

"If he does not cease his audibles, we will all be put in jeopardy. My scans were inconclusive."

"Then meld with him, Sorak. Bring him out of it. He's of more use to us coherent than dead."

The Vulcan looked at the woman with abject horror in his eyes for a fleeting moment, before he suppressed the emotions that had almost come to the surface. He held his phaser at offensive posture for several long seconds before dropping it to his side. Aglukuck mewled.

"What you propose is no safer than administering an unknown medical element into his bloodstream, with the exception that I am also at risk. I could fall into the same catatonic state as he is currently residing under."

"Then I'll shoot him myself, and bring you out of it. I'm familiar with your biology, Sergeant."

"Shade, run reconnaissance of the perimeter. You have three-point-two minutes before I can no longer retrieve myself without any lingering effects of the meld. Report within that timespan if any danger is inherent."

The Anuban acknowledged with a snap of his safety releasing. Khrystyne moved to take up position at the doorway while Sorak performed his talents.

The Vulcan purposefully took steps around the 'island', rubbing his fingers together against the bridge of his nose. After half a minute, he stopped at the Reman's head. Leaning over Aglukuck, he placed a hand on each side of the alien's head, probing for telepathic points.

Immediately upon uttering the words, 'My mind to your mind...', Sorak was greeted with a dazzle of color not unlike a strobe light. It was powerful, an onslaught of emotion... it made him wince.

Voices clamored, all trying to rise their own over the din. Anger, pain, resentment... it was a rising tide, threatening to overwhelm him. This must have been what took the Reman away from them. Sorak added his strength to the Revik's, and found his own wanting in comparison to the once-repressed aliens. His (Sorak's) telepathic abilities were but a pebble in a pond, he found.

The Vulcan stretched thin his telepathic tether, and swam out into the ocean of emotion and chaos searching for the Revik's mind.

****

Shade himself was quite busy. After having left the Sergeant's side, the time limit allotted to him to determine danger had long passed. The Anuban had followed the trail of footprints down into a sub-basement three levels down, meeting no resistance along the way.

He followed the steps down a long hallway with no doors save one at the end. Prepping his tricorder on silent running, he scanned the room beyond, and detected no life-forms present.

He reached down, turned the handle, and slipped inside.

****

Khrystyne was worried about Sorak. The Vulcan was now slumped over the Reman, sweat dripping off his brow in rivulets, pooling on the other's clothing. Every thirty seconds or so, the Sergeant would open his mouth is a sharp intake of breath, then clamp it shut, showing his teeth as they clenched.

His heart-rate was up, blood pressure skyrocketing, and his occipital lobes were super-active. She couldn't allow it to go on much longer.

She glanced back out the door, trying to forget about Sorak. The silence and darkness beyond was beginning to get to her. She kept thinking about the monsters her parents told her were in closets, and boogeymen.

****

Sorak saw faces bobbing in the waves as he searched for the Revik. He tried calling out to him as images both black and white drifted by. As his mind registered the colors on the faces, the entire ocean changed. Divided right down the middle boundary he was floating along was a split in color that kept coalescing back and forth, black on the right, white on the left, then black on the left, white on the right. Sorak treaded lightly in the water that had lost the spectrum of color in favor of the non-colors.

Then, in the distance, Sorak saw a lone face, its skull gleaming white against the dark sockets for eyes.

The water grew still, the black and white still flashing back and forth even as a small hillock grew up between them. Sorak swam around one side of it, picking up speed as he saw to his other side, the water drop down into a concave cavity the Vulcan had no desire to see if there was a bottom to.

He came around the giant flashing hillock that had risen on the separator line, and saw Aglukuck swimming towards him. The Reman was lifted up on another rising section of the placid water that stretched for several meters lengthwise. The two of them met; Aglukuck grasped the Vulcan's arm and pulled on him, sending them both out of the thickening pulp that was once water. They floated upwards and out, then tumbled backwards down the surface that had risen perpendicular to the 'ground', where Sorak and Aglukuck had both landed.

They looked up, still holding onto one another for resilience against the tide, and into a giant face, still trading the black and white back and forth.

****

Shade, upon entering the room, was caught off-guard by the sight of tiers of stasis chambers lining behind the walls of the corridors that he had passed on his way to the source of the footprints. The doorway itself led into a lobby of sorts, with control panels still active.

On inspecting the chambers with more detail using his eyes and scanner, he found most of the units were empty. Some were not, though its inhabitants were not waking anytime soon.

"Yes, I was surprised at finding these, too. I had thought my people were all dead."

Shade reacted to the voice by raising his phaser rifle before he had even turned around, but it hardly mattered. The being standing before him simply raised a hand and the weapon left the Anuban's hands and landing firmly in the other's.

Shade dove at the being, but was caught by the man and held in place with sheer strength. Shade looked into the face, black on the right, white on the left and pushed harder at the diminutive man, but his consciousness was rent away when the alien sent an electrical shock through him.

"We're going to have to kill him, Bele. And the others upstairs, too. I told you this peaceful revolution wouldn't work! More of them came!"

Bele dropped the Anuban to the floor, brushing off his hands even as he turned to face the newcomer.

"Lokai, how many times have we gone over this? Killing them would only bring more of them here. Causing dissension amongst them only turns them on each other. I would think you would have learned that after all this time."

"I've only learned this method isn't working! They're getting too close, and we're only going to end up losing everything."

Bele looked over Lokai, marveling at how his kind - black on the left, white on the right - managed to have survived as long as they had. They were pure emotion, violent, tactless, whereas Bele's race was the opposite.

"Just send the others to take the other three into custody." He took hold of Lokai's shoulder as they walked back out into the corridor. Others of their kind gathered up the Anuban behind the two. "You are right about one thing, Lokai. We need to try a different tactic to end this once and for all."

“Countdown Begins”

Primary Characters;

Lt Ella Grey
Assistant Chief of Engineering

Lt (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell
engineering officer

Lt Jiiles
engineering officer (written by Dru – as always!)

*** USS Galaxy ***

Jiiles tried to smile as he stared into the ‘eyes’ of death, “It’s a touch sensitive chemical based bomb, hooked up to the environmental systems and… I’ve just set it off!” he replied finding it harder to breathe as a near hysterical panic threatened to take him over.

"WHAT!?" Nara jerked back, banging her head against the panel as she shouted, "DAMN!" Rubbing her head, she took a deep breath, "Force field. We need a force field! Beam him out of there!" Panic apparently was contagious.

“NO, NO, NO!!” Jiiles screamed back. “You beam me out of here and it will blow!” he tried not to shake too much as he began to explain the dilemma he was in, “This is hooked up to a motion detector. I have tripped it, by simply being here!” the agitation was clear in his voice as he didn’t stop shouting once! “My clock has gone from 20 minutes to 5, and the pressure gage, at least that’s what I think they are, has been activated. I have 5 minutes to deactivate this thing and I don’t even know where the control panel is…!!” He had to remind himself to breath - slowly, getting all wound up was not going to solve anything.

"Then find it." Ella said.

“That’s easy for you to say.” Jiiles almost screamed back, “Every time I move this thing, does stuff!” he replied staring at the mass of interconnected tubes that began hissing as their contents started being sucked out.

"You heard me." The engineer officer said, her voice, as always, sounding as warm as a machine. "Find the control panel. Disarm the bomb. Do it now!"

Nara's mind raced. Her bomb still had more than five minutes, "Just breathe and think, Jiiles. Five minutes is a pretty long time. So Saia tells me." she was taking Ella's hint and staying calm.

“Oh yeah Nara that’s great, words of wisdom form a five year old is really gonna get me out of this alive!” Jiiles snorted back.

Shaking slightly with anger and fear, he began to look around the contraption once more. He had to admit it was quite elaborate. It had been situated in the center of a cylinder workstation that ascended to the ceiling of the room. He had to access through a panel at the base of the unit and pretty much climb into it, and now of course he was inside it, with no easy way to get out in a hurry if needed. He supposed that it was a good thing that he could stand to his full height, instead of being hunched up during this agonizing time. But as he navigated his way up the cylinder, making sure not to crush the millions of data chips, isoliner chips and other sensitive operational equipment inside the work station, he had inadvertently tripped the motion detector; one that he would have seen if he had been looking where he was going instead of concentrating on where he was putting his feet!

The bomb itself was a piece of work, an art form in a way. Right now, if he could, Jiiles would wring that bloody woman’s neck! At least, from what he could see, this ‘bomb’ wasn’t the type that would go boom and destroy the ship, like they had originally thought. It was defiantly more sinister than that.

From the position that he had ended up in when he rather abruptly came to a stop in his advancement up the cylinder, as the countdown clock suddenly jumped from 20 to 5 minutes remaining before ‘bye-bye’ time, he could see several tubes of what he assumed to be chemicals (based solely on the bio chemical warning hazard label that remained in tact on the side of the tube!). From his assessment of the situation, the motion detector had triggered an element that was now heating up one of the tubes of pink fluid. Said hot tube was also now burning his left arm as it rested against it; cursing loudly Jiiles’ line of vision trailed over to the other tube; positioned slightly higher up and to the right of the first; this tube contained blue ‘stuff’. In the middle was a round gold fish bowl – a reaction chamber – which both tubes were connected to, and that in turn was connected to the ventilation system. To his left the pink fluid bubbled, and to his right the blue liquid was being sucked out of its container into a pipette, and was now slowly dripping, droplet by droplet, into the steam filled gold fish bowl. Annotated across the fishless bowl was a message written in what looked like deep crimson lipstick, (and he sure as hell wasn’t going to rub his finger along it to check!) which read ‘Die you bastards, die’.

“Cheery!” Jiiles commented dryly feeling his body turning numb as a fear induced paralysis temporarily took over.

~^~ “Four minutes remaining.” ~^~ the computer chimed in tonelessly.

“I can’t move!” Jiiles’ voice trembled over the comm. line in a near whisper, sounding very much like he was about to cry!

“Yes you can.” Ella said. She was once glad of her implant. It made it easier to hide panic, terror, and other non useful emotions.

Jiiles just whimpered over the com. in response, a slight sniffle evident through the silent static.

Nara furrowed her brows unable to think of anything, "You're obviously moving your lips so it's not that sensitive. Try to use your tricorder to form a link and disarm it that way." After a moment, she added, "What about if we beam there?"

"Shuffling the Cards"

Lieutenant Saul Bental

Chief Tactical Officer, USS Galaxy

With unauthorized cameo appearance by Lieutenant Tarin Iniara

The Hovercraft entered a long vale, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. The ridges towered over it, tall veined crags of brown and purple rock, undefeated by countless years of erosion. Once, perhaps a river flowed in the hovercraft's path; Now, it was barren like the souls of the planet's original inhabitants.

Saul was standing in the driver's cabin, hands resting firm on the controls as he scouted the ground ahead. He didn't push the hovercraft to full speed, and maintained regular driving profile. The rest of the team, seated behind, also didn't appear to be in any state of emergency. Only a careful observer would notice that two figures were now missing.

In fact, they were tied up and placed in the driver's cabin, out of sight of those who must be watching them right now from the cliffs.

Saul took a gamble. He assumed that whoever stole the weapons did not suspect that the expedition knew of their existence. Otherwise, the enemy would've stormed the Challenger while the team was inside, and butcher them. Saul also assumed that the enemy would assign men to overlook the Challenger and ensure that the secret is not exposed, and he had no reason to believe that this stalking would cease once the team heads back to base.

So he decided to sacrifice immediate combat readiness for leading their unknown assailants to believe that nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Hey, driver. 24 Queen Juliana boulevard, please."

Saul smirked, but his smirk vanished as he turned to look at Chava. "Take that rifle off."

"This?", She removed the strap, watching it disdainfully. "Ah, I can probably use it better than you. What, you don't think I have the right to protect myself if anything happens?"

"You're not a…"

"Sshhh.", She hissed, mocking him. "We don't want everyone to find out our LITTLE SECRET, right? That I'm not really your assistant our agent, but your mistress of L-O-V-E …"

"You've been sitting next to 8-Ball, haven't you?"

"At least you have ONE fine officer in that fleet of yours! Ah, come on.", she nudged him. "I'm the one who was brought against her will to an alien planet where some evil enemy got their hands on weapons that will make me glow at night. Why are you the moody one?"

"Because history repeats itself. And I'm sick of it.", Saul shrugged, his eyes back on the path ahead. "You'd think people would learn."

"What do you mean?"

Saul smiled against his better judgment. Back when they were young, he always shared historical stories with Chava, which was otherwise a street kid whose knowledge of history was confined to the gossip in the newspanels which broadcast the news on the streets of Napoli.

"Most of the people here know of the battle of Cheron, but I don't think many of them read the entire file about Cheron. And the file says that on the twenty-third century, the USS Enterprise encountered two Cheron natives. The final two left."

"I thought you said that the people of Cheron were extinct."

"Well, I suppose they are. The two of them belonged to the two main sub-species of Cheronites. I think their facial colors were inverted, or something along those lines. Anyway, they didn't stop fighting, and eventually the Enterprise simply dumped the two of them on Cheron, to continue their fight to the last person standing – practically."

"You think they're still alive?", Chava asked, her curiosity aroused by the story.

"No. I don't know what their life span is, but after one of them finally killed the other, I doubt there was enough food to keep him going. Or fresh drinking water, or whatever nutrients he required."

"I would settle for half of Cheron and let the other guy have the other half.", She grinned. "And of course I'd take the better half. No Cheronite could outbargain someone from Utrecht III. Hey – maybe their ghosts are hunting us!"

"Don't be ridiculous." Saul stirred the hovercraft to evade a boulder bobbing from the dry riverbed.

"So who did it?"

"I'd put my money on the Corrilians. I think they're looking forward to exploit their masters' weakness after all those years, and if they can do it and frame the Reman ascendancy for the attacks, they might just destabilize the Romulans enough to break free of their grip. That's what I would do if I were them."

"So why are we holding the Reman and the Romulan all tied up?", She inquired, sticking her thumb toward the two mentioned people. The Romulan shifted, trying to express his wrath.

"Because, Chava, this might be one of those rare occasions when I'm wrong."

* * * 2160 * * *

"What are you doing here, sir?"

If you would've told Audris Schneider that several hours before her death she would be locked in a Starfleet brig, she'd tell you that she had better things to do than breaking the law or die.

If you'd tell her just several minutes ago that the Captain of the Challenger would come to visit her, she'd tell you that he has better things to do as well.

"I came when the Commander reported me of your deeds.", The elder man said, waving at his security escort to leave them. The man was the stereotype of a navy Commodore, with his snow-white mustache and nearly bald scalp. A network of wrinkles and dense silver brows framed two tiny eyes which seemed to be made of steel.

"Sir, I don't want to stall you, especially not now when battle could commence at any moment."

"I used my judgment, Commander."

Audris brought herself to a sitting position on the bunk. She tried to nap, but knowing that she might never wake up caused sleep to wander away. Thus, she simply stared at the ceiling when the door opened.

"I'd like to take this opportunity and apologize, sir. I don't know what got into me, and I realize I violated every reasonable protocol. If anyone should understand why classification and secrecy is required, it should be the intelli-"

"You did the right thing."

That came out of nowhere. "What? But I-"

"You head what I said, Commander. Given what you knew, your actions are understandable, even if they were a little more obvious than what I would expect."

"Well, you were pretty obvious yourself, sir. You could easily have made me abandon the issue, if you'd have reacted a little differently. Perhaps…"

Perhaps you wanted me to follow the trail, she thought, but could not let the words leave her tongue. Perhaps you wanted me to know.

With newly gathered courage, she spoke up. "But sir, if you think I did the right thing, why did you keep Delilah secret, At this point of time?"

He sat next to her. "You know, commander, after this mission I'm due to retire. I think that the Challenger was given this… this responsibility because they knew didn't want a Captain who would later proceed to other missions to carry out this one."

She frowned. "Then you don't need to answer to anybody, sir. What would they do? Deny you your pension?"

The Captain smiled weakly, not providing an answer.

"Sir.", Audris continued, "Mularve seems intent on using the weapon. I think that if we use it, our fragile relations with the Tellarites, the Andorians and even the Vulcan could be damaged without repair. They'll think we're the same as we were during the 20th. Century, brutal savages without the maturity to know when to use power. Definitely not the kind of people you'd want to ally yourself with."

The Captain seemed more relaxed than she has seen him in months. "You're getting near."

"… and that's why they'd assign a Captain on the brink of retirement to carry Delilah.", She concluded with sudden enlightenment. It was so obvious. Command wanted someone who owed nothing to no one, who grew too old to be swayed by subjective opinions. Who had a sense of judgment brought forth only by age and experience.

"Thank goodness. Now I can sleep quietly."

"I'm afraid I have to cut your sleep short, Commander.", The Captain stood up. "I'm using my authority to temporarily return you to duty. You will man the battle bridge during the battle, and be returned to the holding cell once we're done. I need this ship to be at optimum state, and that could only be achieved if I can have my best officers manning the battle stations."

"Sir…" Audris was speechless. This meant that if anything happened to the bridge, she would be in command of the Challenger. And although she prayed that nothing would happen to the dear man standing net to her… "Thank you sir."

"Report to the battle bridge in fifteen minutes.", He ordered.

"Yes sir. And… sir?"

"Yes Commander?"

Audris pushed herself off the bunk bed, and brushed back her hair. "I trust it, sir."

The faintest hint of a smile emerged behind the silvery mustache.

* * * Present time, central Romulan encampment * * *

"Welcome back, Saul.", Iniara greeted as the Tactical chief marched into her makeshift office in the central compound. "Had an interesting trip?"

Saul withdrew a customized intelligence tricorder from his belt, and scanned the room. He located two nano-bugs, and overloaded them with a short burst of focused EMP. Then, he presented her with a PADD.

"Quite."

Iniara took a look at the PADD. It presented the imagery taken by Artim, of the empty Delilah module.

"These.", Saul pointed at one of the empty weapon holds, "were full until a month ago. A month ago, Iniara."

"I see.", Tarin put down the PADD on the table. She already had several problems on her hand, but someone just shuffled all the cards, and now it was a totally different game.

"Things That Go Bump in the Night, Part 1"

Ensign Robert Mathieson, Phd.
Mervaan, Reman NPC

Reman Quarter, Planet Cheron

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

Hundreds of feet below the menacing glare of Cheron's sun, Mathieson considered that the Remans were far more intelligent than they looked. The bulk of the Reman settlers had occupied what they speculated was part of the planet's ancient rapid transit system - a vast, hundred-foot diameter conduit that faded into a Stygian blackness due north and south. The massive tunnel had been compromised by an ancient nuclear war and tens of thousands of years of erosion, but despite the stalactites, stalagmites and sedimentary pools, the corridor was cool and comfortable, and considerably less radioactive than the surface.

Following Mervaan, Galaxy's oldest physician could feel the stares of the Remans from the thick shadows, highlighted only by the occasional flickering lantern. His Reman guide mentioned that although the cavern was comfortable and ideal for their purposes, maintaining an effective power grid proved to be next to impossible. Interruptions in voltage and current were constant, especially towards the extreme borders of the Reman settlement, and because of the cultural friction on the surface no engineers could be spared for the problem. The news didn't worry Mathieson much - he'd worked in the dark before.

After an hour's hike, the two finally entered the antechamber where the Reman telepaths were being kept. Fourteen beds each occupied a malnourished, gaunt humanoid writhing in psychic agony, attended by a couple of lay healers of the Reman priesthood. Mathieson set up a portable worklight and went immediately to work.

The first order of business while scanning the patients was the asking of questions. The where's and when's only showed that the symptoms started as soon as the Remans arrived on Cheron, and that they seemed to be random. The scans showed a different picture - the telepaths Psilosynine levels were the highest Mathieson had ever seen in a humanoid - Betazoids included. The Reman brain was simply unequipped to handle that level of the chemical - each telepath was reliving the nightmares of their comrades in frightening, hallucinogenic detail.

Judging that their physiologies would take the drugs, Mathieson quickly administered a Psilosynine inhibitor, a generic antiphsychotic and a very small dose of Lexorin, a neurotransmitter inhibitor. He was pleased when each patient sank into a dreamless, tranquil slumber.

It had taken two hours of analysis and experimentation before the telepaths were properly sedated, and Mervaan hadn't moved a muscle in that time, arms crossed keeping a close eye on the human physician. His expression remained coldly impassive, hut his words hinted otherwise. "Your treatment seems to be working, Doctor Mathieson - I'm impressed."

Fishing out a bottle of water, the Englishman shook his head. "Ye shouldn't be - it's a bleedin' band-aid. It'll give 'em six hours rest, maybe a bit more - an' I've got t'be carefull with th' Lexorin. Powerfly addictive, an' bad side effects if used too often. We've got t' find what's causin' the problem."

Marvaan nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, the only way of tracing a telepathic attack is with a telepath. Those you see here are all we have, and I would not choose to press them in their condition."

"Nor I, lad. Nor I." Mathieson took a long swig at the bottle, and then looked at his resting patients. "We'll have t' do this the old fashioned way."

The Reman gave a Vulcanesque raise to his right eyebrow. "We, human?"

The doctor nodded, placing the remaining water in his field kit. "S' right. We. They're my patients now lad, an' I'll do be best for 'em come 'hell an high water. Twiddlin' me thumbs an' waitin' fer 'em t' wake up in agony's not my idea o' good medicine."

There was considerable hesitation in Marvaan's reply as he cautiously considered the Starfleet physician's offer. "Hmmmm... very well doctor. What do you suggest?"

Mathieson's usually stony expression split into a lopsided grin. "We go back t' the friggin basics, my son." He rose and began detailing his suggestion to the Reman leader. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that there may be hell to pay for not reporting to his occupied superiors for this little jaunt, but it didn't really worry him much.

He'd been knee deep in shit before.

"Information Raid"

Principle Characters
Major Corran Rex
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff

****

Planetary Police Precinct 13

Victor supposed that things might have gone worse. He wasn't exactly certain how that might have happened - perhaps a division of unreconstructed Jem'Hadar troops choosing this location as the opening point for an invasion, or a vacationing Fleet Marine battalion with time - and too much of the local alcoholic beverages - on their hands starting a riot here would do it. An appearance by something like the crystalline Entity that had scoured planets clean before being killed several years back, or better yet, one of those neutronium-plated planet killers that Admiral Kirk had fought a century or more ago - now that would be worse. Or perhaps a Q might have appeared to 'make things interesting' out of whatever sense of cosmic boredom and ennui that prompted them to play games with people's lives. He considered that for a moment while one of the local planetary police emptied a power cell's worth of hand disruptor fire into the reinforced shift leader's desk Victor had sought cover behind. Yes, he decided, having a Q show up would pretty much be the top of the list for how things could get worse.

'Worse' was, however, a somewhat relative term.

Another burst of hand disruptor fire slammed into the desk, skating it into him with bruising force, as a series of shadows flickered along the wall betrayed movement of several individuals trying to flank him through the briefing room past his feet and to the right. Outside the building, the whine of a siren drew nearer as the second wave of reinforcements began to arrive, and somewhere towards the back of the Precinct House, the unmistakable start-up hum of a heavy disruptor rifle - one of the reconfigured Klingon models that several Cardassian armament firms had been making and marketing for the last few years from the distinct, crystalline chime of the firing chamber preheating - sounded in a momentary lull in the shouts of the attacking officers and the screams of the prisoners from their cells.

The Major was off to his left, pinned down in the room where he'd been accessing the financial records they'd needed to see who had bribed the police to ignore his symbiote's friend's murder. The walls there were even more reinforced than the desk Victor was using as cover - until they brought up light disruptor artillery or explosives, the Major would be safe there, but he wasn't going to be stepping out into the hallway any time soon with the withering crossfire the locals were sending down the hallway from two sides.

Victor glanced down at his wrist and noted that the device he'd failed to return to Intelligence after his last undercover mission - a scan jammer - appeared to be working properly, wrapping him in a signal that distorted and altered his image on scanners and other electronic recording devices. He'd passed the devices to the Major as they secured a place to store their unneeded gear, and after the Trill had examined them, laughing oddly after doing so, he'd kept one and returned the other to Victor for use in the data theft. Victor wasn't sure what the image that the scanners were recording was - the one glimpse his overlay he'd had on a screen as he walked by had appeared to be some kind of purple, bottom-heavy bipedal saurian that looked like nothing so much as a life-sized Gorn plush-toy - but it had seemed to amuse the Major as much as the overlay image the distorter the Trill was using was programmed with: something that looked like a very large Orion woman, past her prime and certainly a few hundred kilos overweight... with very little covering her.. extra weight.

******

Okay, so their entry hadn't exactly gone as planned.

Corran could admit that. The scan overlays had worked perfectly, of course. The visual image the "peace officers" saw in real-time on their monitors would be them. Nothing too unassuming. They badges they'd even acquired for access, IDing them as undercover members of the local vice squad - were even legit. The recordings, when reviewed later, would provide no clues to their real identities.

Unfortunately, Corran's contact had been quite wrong when he said the badge's owners weren't from anywhere near this precinct. They'd gotten as far as the records room, when the officer working their desk had IDed them as impostors.

Which had been very, very easy for her, because the officer who Corran's badge had claimed he was, had been, in fact, her husband.

Corran had barely managed to yell out "Plan B!" before he crashed his way into the records room. Victor had merely given a brief nod, and then took aim with his disruptor at every single visible camera – and most of the concealed ones, he was pretty sure.

Yeah, that had gotten their attention.

******

The rushing shadows started to round the corner, and Victor absently shot the first two men to appear in the feet, knocking them down and shattering their bones in their legs to the mid calf as the energy of the disruptor bolts carried up their legs. The others behind them stopped and yanked the wounded men back, retreating back down the hall under cover of the wounded men's screams and some ill-aimed disruptor fire.

With a frown, Victor examined the stolen disruptor he held. It shouldn't have done that much damage on the setting he had it on, unless... ah. The former owner had modified it to increase the power output, effectively raising the power output of each step on the output dial to that of the step above it. He checked the connections, paused to fire twice down the hall that led to the Major's position to keep the officers there from getting any ideas, and decided that he couldn't switch it back without tools and time he didn't have. Besides, truth be known, he was growing less and less concerned with the well-being of the dirty cops that seemed to make up the entirety of this precinct, if not the whole planetary law enforcement profession.

******

Getting into the supposedly secure system had been child's play. And, Corran reflected, for once it was Corran's skills with a computer, and not the myriad experience of any of Rex's forty-one past lives that had been required. It gave the Trill a comforting feeling. For all the grief his bonding with Rex had cost him, it was gratifying to know that, in some way, he was contributing to the symbiont's legacy.

Presuming, of course, he and Victor made it out of here in order FOR Rex to have a next host.

Still, true to the form of bad cops the galaxy over, they proved to be very sloppy criminals. They kept records of everything, sloppily masked as crime scene and incident reports to the vice squad. "Reported" bribes for "undercover" officers "mistakenly" reported as transferred to evidentiary accounts.

The trail was so, so easy.

The fire from the next room reminded Corran that he needed to work faster. Then, he found it. A matching pattern of payments - one on the day the Ferengi was killed by the sniper, the next, the day of Bakett's framing and subsequent murder by an "undercover officer."

The sniper's name was an anagram of the officer's - or vice versa, actually. It seemed there might have been some good cops on Mosanalea, after all, because Corran was able to match the sniper's name to a list of local known Orion Syndicate employees.

And their boss.

Julian Ganz.

That was who'd ordered the Ferengi and Bakett's death. Corran's eyes narrowed as he thought of the Orion crimelord, remembering a time Vorrin and Bakket had double-crossed him.

And his promise for revenge.

******

Victor settled back down as more disruptor fire chipped away at the desk, only realizing that he wasn't *doing* anything after almost a minute's worth of incoming fire. He was just lying there. That was puzzling. Why wasn't he doing something? Shooting back? Making a plan? Asking Rex for suggestions? Something? He considered that for three more incoming disruptor blasts before he found the answer.

He was waiting. Waiting just like he'd done in that bar on Cross' World in the Trigun System almost a year ago. Waiting for the Attendant to come bursting in and back him up. Waiting for someone else to back him up and be there to help. Waiting for… something that wasn't going to come. He frowned. That was stupid. The Attendant wasn't coming. Even if she did, she'd be more likely to help the people shooting at him than save him. No one was coming. He was going to have to get himself and the Major out of this without any outside help.

Victor keyed his comlink. =/\="Had enough fun yet?"=/\=

Corran finished implanting a few random viruses to muck with the police station's systems. "I've got it." he replied, and pressed an locator on his belt that would bring their hoverbikes to outside the nearest wall, marinating a hundred-meter distance until he activated the remote again.

=/\="Then it sounds like we need to leave. Do you have a plan, or shall we use mine?"=/\= Victor fired a few more shots down the Major's corridor to keep the police there from getting any ideas, saw the disruptor was running low on charge and smiled ferally as he overrode the safety interlock and set it to overload, then did the same to the three other weapons he'd confiscated from the officers that had been in the room when Plan B went into effect.

"Let's blow this joint." Corran replied from behind Victor, drawing his own weapon - liberated from the officer who'd ID'd them when he'd run past her - and he set about laying down covering fire for the Security officer.

The disruptor in Victor's hands began to wind up.

"Funny you should say that," Victor replied as he began to toss the weapons into different parts of the room, their warning signals muffled and lost in the din of the weapons fire directed towards the room containing the two men. At the pilot's look he replied, "No. they're not enough to bring the building down – it's too heavily reinforced, you can tell because they haven't bothered to try and cut through the walls, floor, or ceiling to get a shot at us. They will, however, make a total mess of this floor, the stairs, and the lift shafts." He shifted position slightly. "We've got about 45 seconds to start moving, though. Front or back?"

"How's that wall over there look?"

"Victor nodded. "Probably easier that way." He reached down and drew his compressed tetryon beam pistol for the first time in the fight, reached into his belt and produced a Type 1 phaser older than the two of them – minus, of course, the Symbiote – together, and thumbed the two weapons on. "Do you want to count to three, or should we just go?"

"On three." Corran started, and they began to count together. "Wait!" he said, stopping Victor from throwing the weapon.

"On three," the Trill asked by way of clarification, "Or right after three?"

He wasn't sure, but he thought that might be the closest thing to annoyed he'd ever seen Kreighoff. "Rex. My finger is the only thing keeping this disruptor from exploding."

"Right." Corran replied. "On three then."

"1."

"2."

"3!"

Victor tossed the makeshift grenade right at the wall, and a second later, Corran thumbed the activation for the hoverbikes, which would now be outside. The pair dashed through the debris, mounted their bikes, and left speedily from the scene of the crime in a dizzying escape.

It had been so quick, the local constabulary hadn't even had the chance to get a pursuit on them.

As the pulled their bikes into the prearranged garage, however, they found that they hadn't gotten away completely clean.

A squad of Starfleet Security Tactical Operatives, armored up and phasers ready, had all their weapons pointed at them.

"Shit." Corran muttered, and thudded his head against his bike's wind-shield.

"I'll say." came the voice of a grizzled-looking Grazerite. "Gentlemen, I'm Captain Nikolo. And you two are in a WHOLE lot of trouble."

"Changing Direction"

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

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

Shuttle Pythagoras, en route for Romulus

Staring blankly out of the forward viewports of the shuttle, the craft's single occupant couldn't help but reflect that he would never truly tire of watching the stars streak by as the little shuttle flew through subspace, travelling at speeds which would have been incomprehensible to anyone, had they not been so used to hearing the terms that described them, and feeling the gentle shudder of the deckplates as the craft in which they flew leaped from the confines of sublight into a much more incredible velocity. He had always felt that such an image was relaxing, but this was one that was quite used to staring out into space, watching nothing, yet seeing stars nonetheless.

The man smiled. Most officers likely didn't think of stars as they travelled through this part of the Galaxy. They were more likely to be worried that they were entering space occupied by beings who had, for decades, been hostile to the Federation and their allies. That tension had lessened of late, but nonetheless, anyone that remembered how things had been before this time would never be able to see this territory without somehow wondering if a Warbird wasn't cloaked off their port side, watching them as he was now watching the stars rush past.

And yet, the place to which he was returning wasn't one that made him look reluctantly past the next star to imagine what might be hiding there. Here he was, travelling through what had once been considered dangerous territory, and he wasn't the least bit perturbed. Not unusual for him, that was true, but nonetheless, it wasn't exactly what you'd consider normal behaviour.

At least, not unless you knew the shuttle's destination.

The occupant would have been quite content to wait for the ship he was headed for to arrive at a Starbase before he made his rendezvous with the large vessel. It wasn't that he was happy to remain away, but given the nature of the mission the crew was on, he didn't think it would be particularly helpful to have him drop in right now. And yet, Starfleet had suggested that the ship wasn't due to return to Federation space for quite some time, and he wanted to get back to doing his job - well, his new one, at any rate. He wasn't going back in the same capacity that he'd left in, that was for sure.

Miramon sighed softly and leaned back in his chair, his thoughts elsewhere, since he was alone and wasn't exactly able to do anything while his shuttle was at warp. A discarded PADD containing a few chapters of Vulcan philosophy sat on the console beside him, along with an empty mug that had earlier been filled with hot Jumja Tea sat beside it, although that had quickly been drained while the Bajoran had been reading. He'd often found respite in the words of those ancient thinkers of a world that was not his own. But, today, he didn't find any comfort in them. He was too restless, too much existing in anticipation of returning to a ship that had, for the past few years at least, become home.

His smile broadened at that thought. For some reason, he never could seem to settle down. He'd left Bajor, lived on a merchant freighter, returned briefly to Bajor, gone to Starfleet Academy, then been assigned to the Valdemar and, finally, to the Galaxy - his destination. He'd served aboard her for two years now - a relatively brief time, given his age - but, nonetheless, that was home. It was a good feeling to be able to return to it.

He'd left before the ship had gone anywhere near Romulan space. Not due to a transfer or reassignment, nor because he simply wished to get away. Instead, he'd encountered something of what Saul had called a 'midlife crisis'. In his younger days, he'd enjoyed the thrill he got from piloting - from recklessly directing a ship at speed, pushing it through motions that would be physically impossible for any of the beings that inhabited it. Even returning to Bajor and then going to the Academy hadn't dampened his enthusiasm for that, and thus, he had taken to piloting much larger craft than the small shuttles or the Bajoran freighter he had been used to prior to his life with Starfleet.

But that enthusiasm had lessened over time - maybe because of the fact that, as Chief Navigation Officer, his responsibilities lay more in command and paperwork than the simple joy of flight. He'd seen to duty rosters, crew evaluations, briefings, simulations, certifications and the rest of the work that came with the job. But, in the end, he couldn't find joy in that. He hadn't felt content with that. And so, he'd sat down. He'd thought about it. Then he made a decision.

And so, the months spent away from the ship. He'd gone back the Academy on Earth, doing postgraduate work in order to change the focus of his career. No longer the impulsive, independent pilot. Now he had to be the responsible, patient counsellor. That was something he could do, he was certain. He'd enjoyed the training, at any rate - although, because he was already a commissioned officer, the training didn't take so long. It took 4 years to graduate from the Academy, but that was with training in everything you needed to be an officer - to switch a department, you simply needed to take some time to retrain. And an intensive course was perfect to that end, so he'd taken time away from the Galaxy and was now returning.

His right hand ran across the smooth surface of the control console. Perhaps not completely gone, that impetuous pilot, he thought. He could still fly a starship, and a shuttle was never a problem. They couldn't take that away from him, no matter how much retraining they gave him. It was also, he reflected, why they'd let him borrow a shuttle instead of throwing him onto the nearest transport bound for Romulan space. And, this way, he could gather his thoughts.

His grey-blue eyes flicked over to the computer's chronometer. He had about twenty minutes before the shuttle came out of warp. Good. He swung his chair to one side, turning it on it's axis so he could stand up. His legs felt like jelly, but he felt strength returning to them quickly enough. He really ought to have learned never to sit idly for too long. He gave a soft chuckle at the thought, then headed towards the back of the small craft, taking his cup with him. He approached the replicator and placed the mug back onto it, watching as the panel lit up and the cup disappeared with a gentle noise and the slight flare of light, the result of matter converting into energy.

"Iced Tea, Raspberry flavoured, cold."

The replicator made the same noise, this time presenting him with a tall glass of nice, cold Iced Tea - the other beverage he drank religiously. The Jumja Tea had helped him relax, but the cold temperature and the sharp taste would refresh him, help him wake a little from his calmed state, so he wouldn't be half-asleep when he disengaged the warp engines and allowed the craft to slip once more into sublight.

Another noise disturbed his musing momentarily, and he turned around and looked down towards the floor. The noise came again, and he grinned in amusement. It was, predictably, his cat, Ziggy. He could have left her aboard the Galaxy when he had gone back to the Academy, but he hadn't known he would be assigned back to the ship again - they did, after all, have plenty of good counselling staff. But he hadn't known that at the time, so the cat had gone with him then, and was with him now, sitting in her little travel case, staring out at him with those ginger, distinctly feline eyes.

"We'll be there soon. Go back to sleep, cat," he said, half-jokingly, although he doubted the little creature could comprehend a word of it.

The Bajoran shook his head, then turned back to head to the control section of the ship. He sat down, taking a sip of the cool liquid, enjoying the sensation of it on his tongue, a moment before it ran down his throat, sharpening his senses through the simple feel of it. He wasn't going to go back to his reading, though. He'd soon be at his destination.

It wasn't long before the ship's sensors registered the Galaxy on his screens. The vessel hadn't changed much since last he'd been aboard, by the looks of things, although he'd have chance to ascertain any differences as soon as he was aboard. He turned in his chair, reading various screens, preparing to bring the ship to a full stop. That didn't take a great deal of effort, but even so, he enjoyed a opportunity to be mindful of such technical actions for a moment. Not as though he'd really needed to do any of that at the Academy - most of the work he'd done there had been ascertaining problems and working out ways to resolve them. And nothing quite as tangible as engineering, at that rate. No, those were more a matter of the mind and the soul, and such things were never quite as simple as this.

Not that he wanted simplicity. If he had, he'd have stayed on Bajor and have raised a family by now.

The sensors beeped at him once more, reminding him of where the ship was now. His smile vanished quickly, leaving his expression calm and focused, his energies entirely pushed into what he was doing. His hands danced nimbly across the lights of the control console, performing functions as quickly as he instructed it to do so. There was a slight shudder as the ship's inertial dampeners dialled themselves down and the ship's warp field dissipated, slowing it down from faster-than-light to speeds far slower in comparison.

And there, in the viewports in front of him, lit softly against the background of space, was the ship. Of course, it was set against the backdrop of the Romulan homeworld, but such a detail was irrelevant to him for the moment. He knew the Galaxy would have picked his ship up long before it dropped out of warp, so they knew somebody was coming and would be well prepared. His smile returned as he directed the shuttle towards the far larger craft that wheeled through the stars. His left hand shot outward, tapping against another control on a different panel, activating the communications system.

"Galaxy, this is Shuttle Pythagoras. Requesting permission to dock," he said, his voice clear and eager.

He waited for a heartbeat before the reply came through, a familiar enough voice to one that had served on the bridge for the past two years of his life and, thus, was also familiar with most of the others that did the same.

"Permission to land in Docking Bay 2 granted, Pythagoras."

"Roger that, Galaxy. I'll bring her in manually, if you don't object."

"Understood. Galaxy out."

The Bajoran smiled. It liked like everything was just as he remembered. Now all he had to do was bring the ship aboard and see if the same was true in other regards, too. It was, he thought, an exciting prospect.

"For Want of a Brain"

Lieutenant Tarin Iniara
Ensign Robert Mathieson

It was late into the evening by the time Iniara made it to the medical ward. Far later than she had planned. But with all the things that had been popping up, it wasn't surprising that Mathieson and his dead Rihannsu had been pushed to the bottom of the pile. Still, she felt guilty for having to do it. Something nagged at the back of her mind, telling her to place the doctor's concerns higher on her list. Iniara hoped it was only an elevated level of paranoia that was making her feel this way; but whatever the feeling was, it had certainly quickened her step.

Ducking through the door of the makeshift facility Iniara took a moment to look around the dimly lit room in which she found herself. Shadows covered most of the walls, partially concealing various crates and pieces of equipment, but other than that the room was empty.

"Doctor Mathieson?" Iniara's voice sounded unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"Right 'ere, Lieutenant", came the quick, echoing reply.

Startled, Iniara spun towards the sound of the voice, catching sight of the doctor just as he appeared behind and to the right of her. Irritation flared up in her mind as she realized the man had caught her off-guard; that wasn't supposed to happen to telepaths. Shrugging it off she gave him a quick smile. "Sorry to take so long. What have you got?"

Mathieson wiped a hand over his bald pate. "Bad news - yer not gonna like it, I'm afraid. 'Course, good news seldom comes from th' morgue." He walked over to a stasis unit and activated the shutdown cycle - as the plastic cover receded and the CO2 dispersed, the pale form of a Romulan male slowly appeared. "In perfect health, other than e's got no brain t' speak of." He pointed the other units and catalogued the other victims. "'At one's got no blood cells, an' that one's got no nervous system. I've done every friggin' test known t' Medical an' made up a few of me own, an' all I can say's that they're dead. I can tell ye why 'cause of wot's missin, but I can't even imagine the 'how'".

He went to the CMO's desk and fished out a padd. "'E'res the complete forensic report, as well as the scans I made at one o' th' accident scenes. There's nothin'. They were in perfect health one second, the next second they were dead on th' ground." He gave Iniara the padd and made to close the stasis unit. "Thought ye'd want t'see th' results first", he grumbled. "I got Vergh an' Leto crawlin over me shoulder fer th' results so each can blame th' other."

Iniara supressed a sigh as she took the padd. Such childish behavior from otherwise rational adults...it was a wonder that modern civilization had made it this far. Handling their disputes had been like trying to keep order on a playground. Eventually she was going to have to put away the nice words and start knocking some heads around.

"No outward signs of trauma or, um...exit wounds," she mused to herself, skimming the report. A moment later she stopped and looked back at Mathieson. "Okay. Before we go any further, tell me a transporter can't be modified to do this."

"Nope - not a chance", the Doctor replied as the stasis unit hissed shut. "Nor any o' th' more refined surgical instruments. The bloke missin' his brain? Maybe in about ten years, an' the instrument would occupy a small room. The ones with the blood and nervous system shot t' hell? I couldn't even dream of wot'd be required fer such precision. Nothin' wi' our technology, or the Romulans, and certainly not the Klingons."

Parched from the heat, he procured two bottles of drinking water from stores and offered Iniara one of them. "I *do* know that th' deaths weren't by chance, but that's all I know", the Englishman said before taking a long drink. "Ah, better. Anyways, wot I don't know about this would fill volumes, but I'm workin on some more tests an' th' like. This business is a pile o' pony, an' that's a fact!"

Iniara gratefully accepted the water, then leaned against a nearby table in thought. "Pile of pony," she echoed, letting the words roll around in her mouth. "That means...something is crap. Baloney, right?"

"At's the polite word fer it", Mathieson grinned. "It's knee deep in steamin' baloney."

"I think I know you from somewhere..." Iniara closed her eyes, trying to focus on the sound of his voice, the patterns of thought he gave off, trying to place one or both of them. When she opened her eyes again after several seconds her gaze seemed much more piercing, almost critical. "Deep Space Nine."

The doctor's grin cracked to a full smile. "Good memory there, lass. There were enough 've us there, so can't blame ye fer forgettin' th' face - 'course, lots dont forget th' accent. An' few ferget carrot-top 1st lieutenants in th' militia - howd'ye get in Starfleet?"

"My sister convinced me, actually. Thought it would be good for me to get away from Bajor, see the universe and all that." She shrugged. "Guess it worked. Although I never expected to run into someone from that long ago."

"You're a unique individual, Doctor. And of all the Starfleet doctors I met in my years aboard the station, you were one of two who didn't piss me off in under five minutes. I suppose that's why the memory stuck with me."

That drew a short haugh from the old man. "Heh, well - it usually takes a little more'n five, t'be honest - and the day's not over yet. So, ye've seen enough o' these poor blokes? Some've got families that've been pretty damn patient, all told."

"Yeah." Iniara exhaled, handing the padd back to Mathieson. "Yeah, go ahead and release the bodies to their families if you have no further use for them. I'll see if I can't convince Vergh and Leto that it's not the other who's responsible. Now to figure out who actually *is* responsible..."

The doctor took the padd, nodding. "Yeh? Well, good luck wi' Vergh an' Leto. If anythin's gonna get ye topped t' lieutenant commander, it'll be settlin' their hash. I'll put these blokes where they belong, an' poke around a bit more. If I find anythin' worth mentionin' I'll let ye know, pronto-like."

"Excellent. Keep up the good work and all that." She smiled, heading for the door. "And...good to see you again."

"Waiting to Join, Part One"
By Ensign Regenna Holmes
Operations Officer
USS Galaxy

Location: Starbase 343, Lounge

The brunette in the black pants and grey top sat quietly in the corner of the active crew lounge. In one hand she held a cup filled to the brim with steaming vanilla chai tea from which she sipped thoughtfully. In the other hand she held a PADD which she read with brow furrowed. Her lips occasionally seemed to form words though no sounds emerged from her voice box. Her brown eyes scanned over the data and then again and once more. After finishing her beverage, she returned the empty cup to the table beside her chair and hunched over the information in her hand. A few minutes passed in this manner until suddenly the young officer abruptly lifted her head up in startlement and her eyes scanned the lounge as her body shrank back into the chair in an alarm response.

On the far side of the room her eyes spotted two people embracing, their arms wrapped around each other, their lips locked in a passionate hold. She shuddered and placed her hands over her ears, her fingertips rubbing her temples.

~ Stop, stop, stop. Walls, walls, walls. Close it down. Brick it up. Come on! Close it off! ~

Her thoughts were chaotic and held a note of terror as she attempted to block out the emotions from the strangers. Finally, unsuccessful, she rose from her seat and hurried into the corridor, putting distance between herself and the catalyst for this newest crisis. She entered a turbolift and after it rose several floors she sank against the wall in relief. It was gone. The impassioned emotions were no longer overwhelming her scanty control and abysmal shielding.

As the turbolift arrived at the designated floor, Regenna stepped out and began down the corridor to her temporary quarters. She was waiting for the USS Galaxy to arrive so she could report on board as their newest Operations officer. She had been here for two weeks so far and there was no sign of the famous ship. Just as she reached the door to the spartan room, her communicator squeaked.

[Ensign Holmes, please gather your things and report to 'Commander Rochester's office.]

"A-Ac-Ackn-nowledged," stammered the young woman. She grimaced in distaste at the after-effects of her recent problem and opened the door to her room. She went to the closet and got her bags, filling them with the clothing, mostly uniforms, that were in the drawers nearby. As Regenna turned to go to the main room, she realized she needed to change. She re-opened the larger bag and grabbed a pair of black uniform trousers, a gold under-shirt, and the dark uniform top. From the smaller bag she opened a small box and removed a single golden pip. She placed her dirty clothes in the cleaner and dressed in her uniform.

As Regenna pulled on her boots she looked around the room. Once shod, she picked up several PADDs that were lying on the various tables. She turned them off and put them in the smaller bag. She then took fours empty cups and placed them in the replicator and pressed the recycle button. After one last glance around the room, she hoisted the bags onto her shoulders and left, heading to the turbolift.

"The Slavers" Part IV

Lt. JG Nieca Rey'ol
Abductee

Cpl. Falkor Vox
Abductee

*****

Stardate 60407.11 (29 May 2383, 1422 hours relative)

Unknown location, IHV Thunder of Victory

Slavery.

It was a concept that had once destroyed Cait. An innocent civilization built on philosophy and the arts, Caitians were a peaceful race that prided themselves on the utopia they had created. But all that came to an end when the newly-founded Federation began its exploration of the Lynx Constellation.

The Caitians seemed like some sort of dream: doe-eyed and innocent felinoids that welcomed the aliens with open arms. They were a gorgeous race that was willing to grow along with the Federation. But word soon spread between the planets of the sleek and provocative Caitians--a race of beautiful creatures that fed into animalistic desire and fantasy. That was when slave trade began on Cait.

At first, it was outside races--those who sought out the rare and unusual for sale. But shortly after, the ugly face of greed appeared; Caitians began to sell their own kind for wealth and profit. Morality and gluttony soon butted heads on Cait and civil war transpired. Only after the ashes had settled did Cait find peace once again. Forever scarred by slavery, every Caitian raised on their homeworld would rather face death than enslavement.

Nieca was one of those Caitians.

Hatred twisted her stomach as she listened to the Kzin's bark and shout at one another while they rapped the halls of the Hydran ship. But an even deeper anger chewed at her insides; the anger she felt for the situation she was placed in. Fighting would be a stupid choice--considering her current companion--compounded by the lack of good weapons and a poor education on Hydran spacecraft. Today, Nieca would have to flee, and that infuriated her.

"Lets move, Marine!" she snarled at the creature behind her. "There are chutes that pass the escape pods around the corner." Rey'ol prayed the beast wouldn't slow her down.

The caniloid stopped in his tracks, heavy breath panting as he watched Rey'ol's fleeing figure through squinted eyes. The Hydran's emergency lighting helped a bit--the longer red wavelengths didn't blind him as much. Closing his eyes, he threw his head back, loudly inhaling a lungfull of air.

"Stop," he growled, opening his eyes and extending his claws.

She winced at his voice--he was so noisey and akward. Between his heavy pants and booming growls, it wouldn't take much for their enemies to find them. "What?"

"Listen," he said, lowering his voice. He shook his head twice, then cocked both large ears forward, indicating down the darker of the two corridors they were faced with. "They removed my CNI, cat, but I can still...smell them." He indicated the darker tunnel with a motion of his head.

She wrapped a hand around his muzzle to stifle his heavy breathing. Neica stood perfectly still and listened towards the darkness. That's the problem with these Hydrans, she thought. No heart...no lungs...only crude blood pressure and spirricles.

"I can't hear them," Nieca whispered. "Are you sure it isn't just the blood from that dead one in the lab you're smelling?"

Falkor reached up to her hands, still wrapped around his muzzle. Carefully, his twice-sized fingers peeled hers away from the tender flesh of his nose. A few drops of blood seeped through the broken skin where her claws had dug in. Wiping the top of his snout with one hand, his brow shot up, and an ear cocked backwards. "That one isn't dead, Tabbycat," he informed simply.

"You didn't answer my question, Marine."

The Lupin growled, then turned toward the darkened tunnel. Stepping forward, he moved into the shadows, his red eyes irising open as soon as he was out of the painful light. "You are a superior, Lieutenant," he said, turning his head over his shoulder. His tail curled slightly as he turned back and set paw on the corridor's threshold, the indirect lighting setting his eyes aglow from the blackened corridor. "But, you are no Marine." With that, he disappeared into the blackness.

Nieca merely rolled her eyes in annoyance at his tenacity. "Which is exactly why I will get blamed for your stupidity and death." Taking in a deep breath she composed herself and foucsed on their situation. Saddling up to the wall of the corridor, she followed several feet behind the Lupin.

"Stop breathing," he huffed. "Your...breath smells of old cigarettes. It is...distracting. Stand there, I will scout ahead and return." Before she could protest, he was gone.

Nieca pinned her ears against her head before she crouched down in the dark, she wanted to mention his consumption of carrion and how it affected his breath, but she had to bite her tounge and wait for the slobbering dog to come back.

*****

War Bridge, Kzinti Battlecruiser Longclaw

Kull slouched in his comanding chair, which allowed him to rest his clumsy hand across his full and well-rounded pot belly. "Report, Sayr!" He barked through his oversized canines.

The female weapon officer turned to Kull. "My Lord, their ship is disabled, main drive has been destroyed. They will not escape. Our boarding parties stand ready, on your order, Lord Kull."

Smack!

"Destrroy any Hyrrdan surrivorrs that we cannot exploit, and trransferr theirr computerr database--" Kull swallowed heavily. "Leave theirr ship as nothing more then an empty shell, as a reminder to theirr foul kind."

Sayr paused momentarily, then swiftly strode in front of Kull. Kneeling before him, with her head down and ears laid back submissively, she spoke. "My Lord, I wish your leave. To let the blood of their treacherous commander, as a token for what they did to our comrades, and..." she paused, pushing back the well of emotion still tugging at her heart, "to avenge my One."

"The death of your One is a source of intense emotion for you." A small smile caused his black gums to curl. "Because of this you could become carless yet...at the same time, you will be savage and brutal." Kull raised a massive clawed hand to his shoulder, which he began to scratch lazily. "I will grrant you perrmission to trravel to the ship, but do not kill those who might be useful to ourr trrade."

Sayre bowed lower, while at the same time surpressing a low growl of annoyance. She knew better, however, than to defy Kull. "Yes, my Lord," she instead replied. Standing again, she motioned to two of the other guards near the war bridge's entrances. "Success, my Lord," was all that she said as she disappeared around the corner, to the transport room.

*****

Lower decks, IHV Thunder of Victory

Several minutes had passed and Nieca still continued to crouch in the darkness. The Caitian was going to give the beast five more minutes, then she would leave without him.

"Tabbycat," a low growl issued from the darkened corridor he had disappeared into. "There is a safe way. Follow, now." With that, he disappeared again into the blackness.

Her tail skipped in annoyance at his demanding tone, but Nieca knew when to pick a fight and when to swallow her pride. Standing quickly, the Caitian began to silenting stalk the Lupine.

Vox did his best to put her out of his mind. Of course, he would have already been off the ship and either dead or escaped if it weren't for the...cat. With her smell and heavy breathing, the Hydrans were apt to hear her and capture them, anyway. The thought of either injuring her or killing her outright had occured to him as a tactical strategy, but he had quickly discarded it. She was a superior officer, and he was responsible for her safety, just as much as--or even more than--his own.

"This way, cat," he whispered, hunching low on all fours as they passed an open, yet unlighted intersection. Luckily for him, most of the lighting was either damaged and not functioning, or very dim, allowing him to actually see. Quickly, he moved his head from side to side, his ultra-night vision scanning in shades of shadows and red, while his sensitive nose searched for both smells and heat.

As Vox hunched and loomed through the darkness Nieca moved with a more silent grace that could only be achived from the natural agility her people held. "There is no need to speak--I could follow you with only half of my senses."

As she started to move past him and into the intersection, he shot his arm out, blocking her way. Ignoring her furious glare, he perked his ears. "Do you hear that, Rey'ol?" he asked very quietly, indicating an ear toward the opposite corridor.

Her ears went flat back against her head "Those aren't the sounds of Hydrans...damn! We're so close to the dock." She made a fist and scanned the area. "I don't think you can fit through the ventilation system."

Though she probably couldn't see it in the darkness, he gave her an "of course not" glare. This Lieutenant might be good at pushing buttons on a computer console, but Vox was convinced she would get them both killed. Still...she could prove useful, if the time came. "What do you suggest, Lieutenant," he hissed.

She began to count with her fingers using the pad of her thumb to keep her place. "We cannot go around or through them, and you cannot go over. So, we shall go under." Nieca's hands slid across the walls until she discovered a promising panel. "Think you can rip this off the wall?"

For the first time since they had met, Vox actually smiled. "I thought you'd never ask, Tabbycat," he churred in amusement, while switching out his razor-sharp foreclaws. Curling his massive hands around the spot where Rey'ol had indicated, he sunk his claws in, the metal protesting loudly as with one swift yank, he pulled the entire length of covering free from its riveted mounts.

She winced at the sound of tearring metal and knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the Slavers arrived. Nieca peered down into maintenance tubing Vox had exposed. But the tubing was missing a key feature for the fleet officers--a ladder.

Down the far corridor, the sound of the Kzinti growls and snarls suddenly grew louder, approaching fast at the cacophany of noise generated by removing the panel. "Wonderful, cat. You've discovered a hole," Vox growled angrily as he set the wrecked covering aside and began retracting his claws. Then again, on second thought, he re-extended them--he'd probably be needing them soon, now that they'd broadcast their exact position.

"No...it's our way out." She crouched behind him before jumping up to wrap her arms around his neck. "If my caculations are correct, your arms are long enough to reach both sides of the walls. And if my calculations are correct once more...you should be strong enough to lower us to the next floor."

Falkor did his best not to gag as her feline smells nearly overpowered his senses. He realized that she was right, however--they didn't have much choice. The heat of her small body, nestled so close to his, had an odd effect, however. Instead of getting more angry with her, he relaxed a little. "Do not let go, Neica," he whispered over his shoulder. Grunting as she wrapped her tiny arms tighter around his thick, sinewy neck, he swung both feet into the recess. "As my last CO would have said, 'down the rabbit hole'," he commented, then jumped with his feline payload, down the swallowing hole of blackness.

"Coming Aboard"

Lieutenant Miramon Terrik, Counsellor

Set immediately after "Changing Direction"

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

Shuttlebay 2, USS Galaxy, in orbit of Romulus

It took absolutely no time at all for the shuttle Pythagoras to pass through the forcefield that protected the bay from the cold vacuum of space, the small craft flying smoothly into position above the deck, then settling down from the vertical position, the only sound heard as it did so being the hum of the engines as they powered down. As he had intended, the Bajoran pilot aboard had brought the ship in manually - even disdaining to use the computer consoles, but switching over to the manual control stick - the only real way to fly, in his personal opinion. And he'd never had opportunity to use that aboard the Galaxy, so it was nice to have the chance to do so with a shuttle.

Within moments of the small craft touching down on the deck, the sealed door to the rear of the craft descended, allowing him to step off the shuttle. He'd grabbed the case containing his clothes and a few personal effects, slinging it over his left shoulder, while in his right hand he had the travel container that held his cat, the small creature mildly complaining about the motion with a serious of soft 'miaows'. The Bajoran grinned. Trust him to get a cat that hated travelling, or seemed to, at the very least.

There were only a few people in the shuttlebay - nobody had come to meet him, but judging by what he knew of the Galaxy's mission here, that was hardly surprising. The thought didn't rankle at all - he actually preferred it this way. It gave him opportunity to surprise people later on. There were a few technicians around, some of whom were glancing at the shuttle, as though it was yet another item to be added to their momentous 'to-do lists'. He stepped away from the craft and looked back - it was possible their expressions were suggestive of the fact that he'd parked the shuttle incorrectly, but it certainly didn't look like he had. Maybe they were just being too fussy. Such was always a possibility with engineers - he'd never met one that wasn't either crazy, or a definite perfectionist.

Shaking his head at the thought, Miramon headed out of the shuttlebay, pausing but a moment to allow the large double-doors of the hangar to open with a very familiar tone, stopping, then closing again once he'd stepped through and started making his way into the ship proper. His blue-grey eyes carefully scanned the corridors as he walked through them, comparing them to what he remembered from the last time he was here, seeing if he could envision any changes that might have been made in his absence. But, inevitably, it was more likely that he'd been the one to change over the past few months - one thing he'd learned about serving on the Galaxy that everything was relatively dependable aboard ship, even if it never stayed that way beyond the bulkheads for long.

The last time he'd walked down this corridor, his uniform had been the black and red of a command officer - in his case, from Helm/Navigation. Now he was wearing the teal of the science division - since Counsellors were technically members of the medical corps. He'd been told that, on some starships, counsellors were allowed to go on duty out of uniform, since that was designed to make others feel as though they were simply talking informally to a qualified specialist, rather than to somebody that might very well have been a superior officer. Miramon wasn't quite sure he'd feel comfortable with that, personally, since he was far too used to wearing a uniform these days. Still, since Bajor had joined the Federation, they'd made an exception to uniform regulations regarding the traditional earcuff, hence why he tended now to wear one on duty.

Now he was aboard, he really needed to stow his things in his quarters before he could realistically report for duty - counsellors might have enjoyed keeping things informal, but he doubted that Commander Dallas would appreciate him reporting in while carrying a small suitcase and a cat. Of course, his quarters had been changed - he'd moved from the Senior Officer's Quarters on Deck 5, moving down to Deck 9, standard crew quarters. But since he wasn't an Ensign, he fortunately didn't have to share with anybody, so he had plenty of space. And, or so he mused, his new place was a lot closer to Ten Forward. Always a bonus, as far as he was concerned.

It only took a few minutes to find the new room. He'd traversed several decks with the turbolift, then a brisk walk and a quick consultation with the ship's computer had led him right to it. He tapped the control panel beside the door that would open it, since the doors to any residential room was automatically sealed, so it didn't open when someone walked past. That little function had probably saved many an officer from embarrassment over the years. The doors hissed open, each half retracting into the wall. He stepped in and took a quick look around, waiting for the doors to close before he put any of his luggage down.

He walked into his bedroom and put the case containing the clothing down beside the bed, then lowered the box containing his cat to the ground - far more gently, since it would never do to jostle the feline. He didn't mind so much, but she probably did, and that cat was enough trouble as it was. Opening he front of the container, he allowed the cat to jump out - he let her roam freely around his quarters, since her biosigns wouldn't activate the door's automatic opening systems, so there was a fairly good chance she wouldn't go anywhere else.

The temptation to sit down and relax for a little while was almost overwhelming, but since he'd only just come aboard, he needed to report his presence to either his senior officer or the executive officer, despite the fact that at least one of the two had to know that he'd arrived. He gave a gentle sigh - protocol could be a real nuisance at times. He opened the case of clothing he had brought and removed a fresh uniform jacket, removing his current one and heading quickly into the bathroom area so he could splash some water on his face, perhaps helping to bring him to full alertness.

Half a minute later, he was wearing a fresh, unwrinkled jacket and was out the door. So much for a change of pace.

"Waiting to Join, Part Two"
By Ensign Regenna Holmes
Operations Officer
USS Galaxy

Featuring: Lieutenant Commander Samuel Rochester,
Chief of the Office of Starfleet Personnel Management, Starbase 343 (NPC)

Location: Starbase 343, Lieutenant Commander Samuel Rochester's office

"Sit down for a moment, Ensign," the tall officer commanded. As the young woman took a seat in the chair closest to the desk, he continued speaking, "The Galaxy is not going to get here any time soon. We've just received confirmation of the fact that it will indeed be at its present location for some time to come. A few of their replacement officers have already been sent to them in various transports. I checked your records and I saw that you are not rated for shuttle flight control. Is that correct?"

The ensign nodded once. "Yes, sir. I am rated for basic starship flight control but not shuttles or anything smaller than a Galaxy class ship, sir."

"Well then, Ensign Holmes, the arrangements that I have made for you will still be correct." Samuel rose to his feet and handed a PADD to the ensign across the desk. "We can't spare a personal shuttle and pilot just to take one, forgive me, insignificant ensign to a new assignment. However, a small transport vessel, the USS Frankford is leaving for that area in 30 minutes. It will take you to within a few dozen light years of the Galaxy's present location and a shuttle will then come from your new ship to pick you up. You should arrive aboard the Galaxy in about six days, barring complications. Enjoy your new assignment, ensign, and hustle. You will not miss that transport."

"No, sir, I won't sir. Thank you for your help." The dark haired young woman rose to her feet and held out her hand. The older officer shook it briefly.

"Dismissed."

Regenna grabbed her bags from the floor and hurried out of the office. "Computer, location of USS Frankford jetway."

[The USS Frankford has been released from docking in preparation for departure.]

Regenna curse under her breath. The ship was going to leave early. "Computer, location of nearest transporter."

[Transporter six is located on deck nine, section 14 Alpha. Follow the lighted panels.]

The panels to Regenna's right lit up with blinking arrows. She hurried along, following the computer's pathway, until she came to the door of the transporter room. It swished open and the transporter chief on duty nodded to her. "What can I do for you, ensign?"

Holding out the PADD with her orders, she spoke, "I need to get on board the USS Frankford before it leaves. Their departure time has evidently been moved up. The jetway has been released."

The chief nodded and tapped her comm-badge. "Starbase 343 transporter room to USS Frankford. I have an ensign here who has orders to come aboard."

[Acknowledged Starbase. We were wondering if she was going to make it. Energize when ready.]

Regenna smiled and climbed onto the transporter platform. "Good luck, ensign," spoke the chief as she ran her hands over the controls.

"Thanks, I hope to, ch-," the blue energy beam cut off the rest of the young woman's reply as she disappeared from the starbase.

"9th Rule of Acquisition: Opportunity plus instinct equals profit!"
(The Rihannsu Tangent)

Lt. (JG) Naranda Sol Roswell
Engineering Officer

Second Lieutenant Steven Jonas
SFMC, Furies Detachment

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

"I tell you, we did well out of that trade." Firk said to his cousin. "They paid well for the cargo we gave them."

Jek sighed. "True cousin, but this won't help us get the Syndicate off our back. Or get us off the black list on Ferenginar. We need a lot more than this."

Firk nodded. His cousin had always been the smarter one. And that's why he gave the orders. One day he'd have his own ship, and he'd be the one giving the orders. But for now, working with his cousin was his only path.

"WAIT!" A call came from behind.

Turning, Firk saw one of the farmers running to catch up to them.

Jek smiled. "What can we do for you?" He asked in the most polite voice he could muster. It wasn't much, but in this case, the Romulan paid it no heed.

He drew in several deep breaths before he spoke. "Do you have any Inductor Coils or Power Converters to trade?" He said in broken Ferengi.

Firk shook his head. "Sorry no."

The farmer turned to go, dejected.

Jek slapped Firk around the ears. "Wait," He said in the farmer's native language. "We have one Inductor Coil left."

The farmer smiled slightly when he head the Ferengi speak in Rihannsu. "Thank you, Neep-gren."

"Rule 9, dear cousin, Rule 9." Jek said to his cousin. "Now go get the Coil. The one you put in storage yesterday." Hopefully the hint was enough for his cousin, whom Jek constantly thought of as slightly below par as far as mental capacity went.

****

As the sun's rays hit his face as he walked out of the building, it was as if they melted away the pain and angst that he had built up over the years. As relieved as he was, he still felt unease in the pit of his stomach. Like this little adventure wasn't yet over. It gave him the chills.

Seeing Nara sitting on a haystack talking, or rather listening to the little Romulan girl, whom seemed to be talking non-stop, he started over towards her.

With Valiea inside, coming to terms with what he had told her, he was happy to wait for a couple more hours in case she wanted to talk further, and then call the Galaxy for transportation back home.

"Hi." Steven called out as he approached.

Nara saw Steven come toward her and stood and walked toward him. The little girl followed continuing her story about something or other. "How was it?"

"I think it went okay. She didn't try and attack me if that's what you mean." Steven scratched the back of his head. "I think I'd like to give it an hour or two before we leave."

The little girl made an obvious protest to being interrupted. Nara shrugged at him, "She's been telling me some story the whole time you were in there."

She hadn't shooed the child away, but wasn't as friendly as she would had been had the child been anything but what she was. So Nara tolerated her presence. She knew deep down how cruel her predjudice was, but it still took time to get over her irrelavent view of these people. Which was odd she had such a harsh one, being she was never in the war where most officers learned to hate them.

Steven took a seat on a nearby haystack and smiled at the little girl. "Hi. How are you?"

She smiled. "I'm fine."

"I see you've found a new friend." He said, looking up at Nara.

The little girl nodded.

Nara, it seemed, hadn't heard his comment. For she was looking intently off into the distance. Turning to see what had captured her attention, Steven saw the farmer and a Ferengi talking, as another approached with something in his hands. Steven had no idea what it was that he held, but it looked like Nara might.

"They won't be able to do much with that."

"Huh?"

"That coil..." She started walking toward them, engineer taking over the prejudiced officer.

She stopped just short of them and spoke up, "That's an awefully big paperweight."

Jek looked at the newcomer. "Stay out of my business huuuman." He raised his voice towards her.

"Well, I would hope you're selling it very cheap considering..." She looked at the farmer, "it won't work at all." She then looked at the Ferengi and condesendingly shook her head, "Shame, shame. Sure, they caused hell for awhile, but no one deserves such cold thievery."

Jek was getting mad now. "Go back to your huuuman worlds and leave us honest besinessmen alone."

Nara let out a laugh, "Honest?! It's missing a very key component to even RUN the damned thing."

He raised a fist as if to strike. "I'll.... I'll..." He saw that the other huuman was heading over. "You haven't seen the last of me. Mark my words." He turned to go. "Come on Firk. We're leaving!"

Nara raised an eyebrow and her muscles tensed to fight, but seeing him back off, she turned to the farmer, "Never buy from the Ferengi. Get predjudiced about it. Sometimes it serves well." She looked into the farmer's eyes a moment and frowned as she softly added, "Sometimes it doesn't." She sighed and put her straight face back on as Steven came closer, "But in this time, it does. Never trust a Ferengi."

****

Steven watched the two Ferengi leave in a huff, their sale stopped. Nara had saved the Farmer from making a huge mistake in buying the coil from them. Steven had had no idea what it was that the Ferengi had held in his hands, but she, with all her Engineering experience, had seen it straight away.

"Nice work." he called out in Sakarian. It was about all he knew, having picked that up in his travels with the Marines.

She waved him off, then turned to him, "How do you know that language?" She sighed assuming Sakarian information had already made it into whatever periodicals Star Fleet has. She smiled and replied in Sakarian, "Thank you."

Steven smiled. "I'm a marine. I get to go to all sorts of exotic places. Exotic, but quite often deadly. And the odd bar or two on the planets when the fighting is over. It's amazing who you meet in foreign bars."

The ship's engines started up and she slowly rose from the ground and turned towards the North.

Steven sighed. It looked like these guys had enough trouble with Winter coming in the next few months, so the computer banks on the Galaxy had said, and being duped by a couple of Ferengi wouldn't have helped.

Still.... Steven froze as he felt a strange tingling sensation, right before his world dissolved in a stream of blue particles.

****

On the hill, the male Rihannsu did a double take as the two Federation officers beamed away. "Call it in! Get someone tracking that Ferengi ship. And scan the Galaxy. They may have beamed back. We must find them." he said to his partner before turning back towards the camp.

**** Cargo Bay, Longchair Raider ****

As the Starfleet duo materialized, Jek smiled wickedly, his weapon drawn and aimed at the marine. "Drop your weapons and those badges. You are now our prisoners!"

Nara took off her badge, threw it at the floor and looked at Jonas, "And you said a phaser wouldn't be needed." She lifted her hands, sizing them up, looking about as discreetly as she could. She tried to find some weakness, learn what system the ship ran on.

If this would had happened before the civil war on Sakaria she would had been fighting the second she realized where she was. But she knew better. Nothing would be gained by fighting without knowledge of the enemy or even what to do once you killed them or detained them.

Steven followed suit, his badge landing near where Nara's had. He shrugged his shoulders. ~Sorry. I didn't think, when I woke up this morning, that I'd end up being captured by a couple of Ferengi.~

"What are you going to do with us?" Steven asked, feigning fear.

Jek looked from Steven to Nara and back again. "Heh. Since you caused us much trouble... and a lot of latnium, I'm going to sell you to the Lyrans. They always pay hansomely for Huuuuumans." He broke into laughter.

The other, the one called Firk picked up the gear the duo dropped and stepped outside, followed by his cousin. The scraping sound outside warned that they had sealed the door.

Her jaw clenched. She kept her expression level and her eyes forward as she mindspoke to Steven. ~Did you think we'd end up being sold to the highest bidder?~

~With Ferengi, I would say yes. All they ever care about if Profit~ Steven sighed. ~So we better start looking for a way out of here and fast.~

~Any ideas?~

"Decisions, decisions"

("European Style!")

Primary Characters:

Lt Ella Grey Assistant
Chief of Engineering

Lt (Jg) Naranda Sol Roswell,
engineering officer

Lt Jiiles,
engineering officer (written by Dru - as always!)

*** USS Galaxy ***

"Jiiles, I don't know about you but I plan to live through this." Ella told him. "There's no way I'm being taken out by an evil clone bent on blowing us all to smithereens. That's just...tacky.

"You want more motivation than living? Tell you what, you disarm that thing with time to spare and I'll French kiss Nara."

If ever there was an incentive! "You promise?" Jiiles replied choking back a sob of terror.

"Girl scout honor." Ella replied quickly.

Nara was about to protest, but shut up. She sure as hell didn't agree to that. But she supposed she could take one for the ship. Maybe kissing Ella wouldn't be so bad. She had a strange, unreal idea that Ella's mouth tasted metallic. Perhaps it was the sound of her mechanical voice. But kissing Ella would likely be no worse than kissing 8-Ball.

~Focus on staying alive, focus on staying alive.~ this was going to be a new Galaxy mantra, Jiiles decided as he stared at the bomb. He could do this, he told himself, all he had to do was concentrate; no girl was going to have to rescue him. He was the man! (By gender only it seemed at this juncture!).

Looking further up he noticed a rectangular box, a red L.E.D flashing on it. ~Defiantly not normal~ Jiiles concluded. With both legs spread, his feet against each side of the cylinder, he pushed up on to the tips of his toes.

As he moved the elements' temperature increased, heating the fluid quicker; steam flowed unbridled into the reaction chamber and the regularity of the pipette increased. Jiiles looked back down and cringed.

~Focus on staying alive!~

"Okay, I have a box." Jiiles informed the girls, "I think it's the control system." he added opening it tenderly.

"Right," he began as he inspected it, "I have three isoliner chips, one green, one red and one blue. Which one do I pull out?" Jiiles asked wiping the sweat away that was dripping into his eyes.

"The green one."

Jiiles fingers hovered before the green chip.

"Are you sure it's not the red one?" Nara countered.

Slowly Jiiles fingers wavered towards the red chip.

Ella shook her head. "It's too obvious to be the red one, Nara. Pick the green."

"Maybe she plans us to not choose the obvious?"

"Maybe she knew that we knew that we knew..." Ella countered. "We don't have time, pick SOMETHING, Jiiles."

"Ahhhh!" Jiiles shouted over the com line "Okay then the blue one."

"NO!" Nara and Ella both shrieked in unison.

"AHHHHH!" Jiiles screamed back louder than before, "Just tell me which one to pull out for crying out loud!"

"Green."

"I'm telling you! Red!"

~^~ [One minute remaining.] ~^~ the computer beeped in its ever aggravating way.

Jiiles shook his head and closed the com channel. Taking a deep breath he wiped his eyes once more and reached out to the isoliner chips with shaking hands.

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